“You’re going,” he’d said when she made a half-assed attempt at getting out of it. Of course she’d end up going, because like the gym, it was something Jasper thought was important and when he set his mind to something, there was no one and nothing that could change his mind. Besides, it wasn’t like he was unreasonable. He’d only prodded her to reconsider when she’d declared she’d only look at schools within two hours of Havenwood.
“Fine, but that’s two hours with no traffic.” He hadn’t even looked up from the crossword he was finishing while she was leafing through admissions catalogues. Which had meant he’d missed the tongue she’d stuck out at him.
But now there was a stack of mail on her desk, and even from across the room, she thought there was at least one big envelope, maybe two. That wouldn’t be so bad.
She willed herself across the carpet, shoving another apple slice in her mouth on the way. When she got to her desk, she closed her eyes and reached for a packet, picking it up to open it without looking at the return address. Not the most effective way to go about it, but it would do.
Once she’d opened it, there was a sheaf of paper in her hands, and unless the college were abnormally cruel, it was unlikely that every page of the dozens in there said “Suck it, loser.” So she cracked open an eye and had to turn the whole thing over because she was looking at a blank page, but when she did . . .
Yale. Yale had said yes to her, and for a second, her heart couldn’t take it. That’s where her parents had met, and where they’d met the Anderssons, too. That’s where Jasper had gone, where she and Gavin had planned to go. But they’d planned to go together, and the idea of being there in New Haven without him, without them . . . It felt like someone was reaching into her chest and pulling her heart into little pieces, putting each bit in a basket. You go in heartbreak, you go in delight, you go in anguish, you go in excitement, you go in grief, and you go in hope.
How could she? But then again, how could she not? There were a couple of other thick packets and a slim envelope, but she didn’t care so much about those. What would Jasper say? She closed her eyes and crunched another apple slice, hoping it would be helpful but strangely apple nachos proved to be more delicious than functional.
***
When he got home, he remembered Ada had the night off, which meant he was on for dinner. He’d never made cooking a priority, so Ada’s nights off meant leftovers, going out, or a bowl of cereal if he was beat. Since Keyne had shown up, though, he’d made more of an effort. Spaghetti and meatballs, omelets, and chicken Caesar salad weren’t going to win him the James Beard, but it was better than a box of mac and cheese. And for tonight, he’d bothered to look up a recipe.
He shrugged off his coat as he went through the mudroom, and when he opened the door, he practically thwacked Keyne with it. Had she just been standing there, waiting for him? He was a little late, but . . .
Before he could ask her if everything was okay, she thrust a piece of paper into his face. Dark blue lettering in the upper corner and the word “Congratulations” were the only things he caught before taking the sheet in hand and holding it far away from his face to read.
Yale. She’d gotten into Yale.
A smile tried to spread across his face, but this was complicated. He wanted her to make up her own mind, not have her decision or her feelings colored by his own. On his end, there was delight and pride, with regret and sorrow coming in a distant second place. Gavin would never go to college. He’d never walk the campus that Jasper and their parents had, never be part of that legacy. But Keyne could. If she wanted to be.
His features carefully blank, he regarded her standing before him, hands clutched together at her waist. “That’s wonderful news, sweetheart.”
Keyne’s face screwed up into annoyed disappointment. “That’s it? I get into Yale, and that’s all I get?”
She snatched the paper back, looked at it, her eyes glistening, before her gaze met his again, brimming over with beseeching want. “I thought you’d be happy for me, I thought you’d want me to go. Even if you didn’t . . . it makes me feel closer to them, even though they’re gone.”
Rolling her lips between her teeth, she bit down until they were white, and he shut his eyes just as tightly until he could be sure he wouldn’t break down. When he’d gotten his breath under control, he laid his hands on her slim biceps and held tight until she met his gaze.
“I have never been prouder in my life. You’ve worked incredibly hard, and overcome obstacles no one should have to deal with. You’ve done it all with a grace most grown women don’t possess. I would be thrilled if you wanted to go to Yale. I always thought I’d get to show you and Gavin around campus, we’d get to go to football games together, maybe even complain about some of the same professors.”
His throat tightened, those very images flitting through his mind along with a dozen others that could never be. Keyne opened her mouth, about to speak, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. “But I would also understand if you wanted to go somewhere else. If you think being in New Haven would be too much for you. As long as you go to college, I don’t particularly care where it is. Being on that campus . . . You have a choice about putting yourself in that position, whereas so many other things you had no choice in. I will support you one hundred percent in whatever you want to do. That’s the only reason I’m not breaking out the champagne and running around the neighborhood chanting Bulldog fight songs. Understand?”
The reward for his ridiculousness was a small, watery smile. “Okay. But Jas, I really do want to go. Promise.”
That’s when he let the smile break across his face, and he picked her up and swung her around, squeezing a surprised squeal from her lungs as she hugged him back. She felt so good against him, small and warm, but strong as hell. And her body pressed so tight against his . . . if she wrapped her legs around his waist, he might die. So he allowed himself another second of the embrace before setting her down.
“I think this calls for a celebration. Want to go out?”
Though most of the women he knew would jump at the chance to go out—and for something this big, he’d take her anywhere she wanted to go—Keyne shook her head. “I thought you were cooking tonight?”
“That seems like an even better reason to go out.”
She rolled her eyes, and then looked to the side, bashful as she shrugged. “I like it when you cook.”
God knew why when Ada was far more proficient in the kitchen, but if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what she’d have. “Okay. You can start your homework while I try not to burn the place down.”
But instead of settling at her desk, she took up her books and headed for the door. “I’ll do it in the kitchen. You could probably use some supervision.”
He’d like to argue, but truthfully couldn’t so he shrugged and ruffled her hair on the way down the hall which led to her trying to punch him, him trying to tickle her. By the time she was laying her books out on the breakfast bar, the world seemed like a decent place.
Jasper pulled the recipe up on his phone, and while Keyne cracked open her notebook, gathered up everything he’d need. How Ada made this look easy, he’d never know. Cutting boards, knives, pans, pots, not to mention all the goddamn ingredients. Keyne worked away, looking far more competent at her reading and note-taking than he felt surrounded by all of these things that would allegedly come together to make a meal.
He’d been doing okay—pot on to boil for the pasta, onion and garlic chopped, meat browning in the pan—when of all the things, he sliced open his finger on a can. Swearing profusely, he held his finger as the blood welled at the cut.
Before he could think to do anything other than stare and curse, Keyne was there, taking his injured hand in hers, and lifting his finger to her mouth. Then her tongue was on him, laving away the blood and surrounding his finger with a wet heat that made him fo
rget that he’d been hurt. Profanities flooded his head for entirely different reasons.
Her mouth felt like heaven and the fiery pits of hell all at once. Heaven, because goddamn, her mouth, and what he wouldn’t give to feel those lips, that tongue against his, or god help him, on other parts of his body. But to have any of that was a sure road to perdition. Not to mention what the fuck was wrong with him for wanting that? Be a man, Andersson, be her guardian. Protect her against all things, including your depraved self.
So he yanked his finger away, not failing to notice the hurt and confusion that flashed in her eyes. Better that than realize he was clenching his jaw so hard the bones might shatter in an effort to not get hard.
“Infection,” he muttered, as he shook his hand. Maybe if he shook it hard enough, he’d be able to forget what her mouth around him had felt like.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, sorry.”
He knew he should shrug it off, tell her not to worry, because that was a perfectly normal impulse. If he were perfectly normal and not a complete and utter deviant, it wouldn’t be a problem. Sweet, even, that she had the impulse to comfort him. Things being as they were . . .
“It’s fine. I’m going to go clean this up. Could you make sure dinner doesn’t burn? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” During which he’d do his utmost to get his goddamn shit together.
Chapter Fifteen
May
She used to love her birthday. She would have a big party, everyone from school would be there and all the attention would rain down on her like star dust. When she’d turned sixteen, there had been fireworks. Big, huge Fourth-of-July level fireworks. It embarrassed her now. She would trade every last sparkler to have her parents back, to have Aunt Emily and Uncle Arvid back, to have Gavin back. Even just one of them. She’d trade it all. That not being an option, she’d told Jasper no parties, no nothing. She’d asked if she could not go to school and he’d refused. Hard ass.
She’d been surprised he’d so taken her wishes to heart, though. Nothing special for breakfast, no flowers, not even a card. Just a kiss on her cheek that had maybe made her blush and a murmured happy birthday. That’s what she’d asked for, right? What she’d wanted? Still.
Anyone who mentioned it at school got a tight smile. For the most part no one did. People didn’t talk to her much anymore. They didn’t know how. She couldn’t blame them. If they talked about everything she’d lost, she hated them for being callous or digging up freshly buried memories. If they tried to talk to her about inane, everyday things it felt unimportant.
When she got home, Ada greeted her at the door with a hug. “Happy birthday, Keyne.”
“Thanks.” Ada was so different from her mother, plump like a partridge instead of delicate like a humming bird, but she was as close to a mother as she had anymore, so she let Ada hold her for a while, pulling away when she was worried she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from falling. “Where’s Jasper?”
“Mr. Andersson is in the library. He’s been waiting for you.” Ada arched a sly eyebrow and her face lit up with a smile.
Oh, no. What had Jasper done? She’d told him . . . A spark of irritation flared behind her eyes. He could boss her around all he liked about most things, she would be thankful for it even, but not this. She’d been very clear.
She stalked toward the library and when she flung the door open, she was so stunned by the sight she forgot her fit. Jasper was standing there in a tux. Holy crap was he handsome. She knew, of course, he was good-looking. Hadn’t realized until recently how good-looking he was, but if she’d had any lingering doubts, any last reservations because he’d been like her brother, her much much older brother, they were gone now. All she could think was Holy shit, he’s hot.
Also, she knew how his sand-papery cheek would feel against hers if he kissed her on the cheek again, and how good he would smell, and the idea of him being that close again . . . Her knees were unsteady and she was suddenly aware of her own body in a way she wasn’t usually.
She only realized she was gaping when he tugged on his cufflinks, the way he did when he was nervous. She’d never seen him do that before she came to live with him, but she’d learned it like a tell.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything for your birthday, but we have theater tickets and I didn’t think you’d want them to go to waste. There’s a dress set out for you. We need to leave in an hour to be on time.”
He glanced at his watch as if to double-check what time it was and then looked up at her.
The theater? She hadn’t been to a play in ages. Not since . . . Well, it wasn’t like she had other plans for tonight. It was Friday so she couldn’t use homework as an excuse, and the idea of being seen somewhere with Jasper? Looking like he did? That sealed the deal.
She didn’t say a word but walked out the door, casting a pointed glance over her shoulder as she turned to the left, toward the bedrooms. It was her birthday, she was allowed to be bratty.
Jasper smiled at her, the split of his mouth breaking up the harsh lines of his face. He was even more handsome when he smiled. Not many people got to see this side of him. It was precious, hers, so she smiled back before heading down the hallway.
When she got back to the library, she’d changed into the dress that had been hanging up in her closet: a cocktail length, emerald green lace sheath. If she’d been the type of girl who relished sneaking into clubs, it would’ve been easy to tonight. She looked so . . . sophisticated. And pretty. God, did she look pretty.
She pushed the door open and was amused Jasper seemed to be pacing in front of the fireplace. He stopped when he heard her and for a split second, there was the wildest look on his face. Greedy. Possessive. And though she’d never used the word before, it was perfect for this instant: coveting. It ought to have scared her, but it didn’t. It thrilled her. But before she could feel too much beyond her initial reaction, the look was gone.
“You look nice.” The corner of her mouth rose. The words had come out of his mouth like smoke from flames being smothered. Yes, “nice” was a word.
“So do you.”
Jasper stared at her for another second, his head tipping in a way that reminded her of Gavin. How he’d looked at her sometimes when he couldn’t quite believe she was real and she was his, she’d chosen him. Jasper shook his head like a wet dog and pulled something out of an inner pocket of his jacket.
“Don’t get mad, Tinker Bell,” he said, cutting off her protests before they made it out of her mouth. “They’re on loan so it’s not a present.”
He opened the box and nestled into a cushion of velvet were the most beautiful earrings she’d ever seen. Emeralds the exact shade of her dress cut into teardrops and surrounded by diamonds. She was a little sad she couldn’t keep them forever, especially when Jasper took them out of their comfy home and brushed away some hair that had curled in a tendril by her neck. She shivered at the pass of his fingers over the sensitive skin and the way his fingers gripped her lobe as he fixed the clasp. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath so she wouldn’t sigh. Or moan. God, that would be embarrassing.
Jasper cleared his throat. “All right then. Ready?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice with words.
***
He fidgeted on the way to the play. Jasper Andersson did not fidget. He was either stony, unyielding, or he was a blur of predator about to sink his teeth into someone’s throat. Neither of which allowed for fidgeting. He tried to make small talk with Keyne, asked her about school, but they talked so much every day there wasn’t much to say.
She’d probably dream-walked her way through today anyway. Better than sobbing. He didn’t blame her for wanting to escape some. As long as it didn’t last too long, he’d let her.
She must’ve been wondering about where they were going. They went into Manhattan often enough she must’ve realized that’s not where
they were headed. Or maybe she didn’t, lost in her own world. How much time did she spend in the past, with them? He missed them, too. If he let himself. But he couldn’t let himself, because she needed him.
If he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb out.
They pulled up in front of the building an hour later. Keyne was staring out the window, but she wasn’t seeing anything. She’d have something to say about it if she did. He climbed out and walked around to her side of the car, offering her a hand. When she’d eased her way out, she snapped back to the present.
“Where the hell—”
“Language, Keyne. There are children present.”
He studied her shocked expression as she gaped at her surroundings and smugness overcame him when she narrowed her eyes after seeing a sandwich board proclaiming tonight’s entertainment.
“You brought me to the Keep Community Children’s Theater production of Peter Pan?”
“Yes, I did. I’ll have you know, these tickets weren’t easy to get ahold of. You’re lucky I have connections.”
She tried to keep the scowl on her face, but she couldn’t. Not once the delight started to form cracks. That corner of her mouth perking up always gave her away. Had since she was a little girl.
“Try not to smile, Tallulah Tinker Bell. I dare you,” they’d say to her when she was in the middle of a particularly bad emotional maelstrom. She hadn’t been able to resist as a small child and she couldn’t now.
She almost knocked the wind out of him with how hard she flung herself against him, throwing her arms around his waist and burrowing her head into his chest.
He gritted his teeth and hugged her back. You cannot get hard when you’re holding her, Andersson. You can’t. When she’d walked into that library, he’d almost choked on nothing but air. He knew the dress would be flattering on her. It was a perfect color and would cling in a way that would show off the few curves she had. But he hadn’t anticipated how beautiful she would be. How feminine, how delicate, but most of all how adult she looked. He had to keep reminding himself she was eighteen. Had literally just turned eighteen.
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