As soon as the police gave the all-clear, Russell and I went inside. He wanted to walk through first, as the police said things weren’t in a great state, but there was no way in hell I was staying the center of attention outside for a minute longer.
We went directly up to my apartment, and despite the continued police presence, there was some relief being out of sight. Three officers stood in the middle, by the dining table, blocking the view. As we approached them, I glanced into my bedroom and gasped.
Russell and I stepped through the doorway and he let out a low curse. “This guy is fucking nuts.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, holding me steady. The small trashcan from my bathroom was overturned in the corner, its contents dumped out beside it. But on the floor, spread out in a row at the foot of the bed, were used condom wrappers, a clear accusation of my infidelity. Beside them, lay the large knife from the set in my kitchen.
The knife had been put to extensive use. The bedspread and mattress were ripped to shreds, material in tatters and stuffing overflowing the bed and onto the floor. Deep grooves had been cut into the mattress. It looked like Neal had tried ripping the springs free, but only succeeded in breaking them so they shot from the wounds he’d inflicted like twisted spikes.
And there were roses, kind of. The red petals had been ripped off and strewn over the ruined bed, making the mass of material, springs, and stuffing appear splattered with blood.
Russell knelt by the row of condoms but didn’t touch, before looking up at me. “He’s not exactly subtle, is he?”
I stared at the wrappers next to the knife. For the first time, fear overtook me. Real, true fear. The kind I hadn’t even felt when Neal had tried to force me into the car. “I think you’re right. He is crazy. Like… actually crazy. This is different than before.”
He stood and took my hand once more. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. We don’t need to see this. I’ll get it cleaned up, and then you can come back, and we can put the place back together.”
Feeling too numb to really think through what he was saying, I let him lead me out of the bedroom. Though he turned toward the stairs, I glanced the other way, and without the cluster of police by the dining table, saw the real damage.
Without thinking, I pulled my hand out of Russell’s and ran to the alcove. The shelves were shattered, books spread over the floor, pages ripped out. Glass from picture frames sparkled in the light, shattered and jagged. Photos were crumpled and ripped. Mementos and knickknacks lay scattered among the rubble, some broken, others ground to dust. I collapsed to my knees, joining them.
Twenty
Russell
I felt completely powerless as Jasper fell to his knees. The sight of him kneeling in front of his destroyed alcove clarified exactly what the place meant to him. I’d already realized how important it was, and why. All the books, keepsakes of family and loved ones, the memories. But with him kneeling before it, I saw it was more than that. It was almost an altar, a sanctuary, the place that held his soul.
From the way he’d crumpled, I’d expected him to be sobbing. But as I rushed to him, Jasper was silent. He just knelt there, shoulders slumped, arms slack, hands resting on the floor between his legs—just staring, his eyes glazed.
Maybe I should’ve picked him up and carried him away, gotten him out of the destruction, but he looked as powerless as I felt, and I couldn’t add to that. The only other option was to join him. Lowering so my legs straddled him, I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him to me. After a few moments, his hands lifted, gripped my arms, and his fingers clung tight.
As we stayed there, the bustle of the police behind us faded away, and I assumed they went down into the bookshop to give us some space.
The tears never fell; Jasper didn’t even say a word for what felt like forever. I’m not even sure how long we stayed that way. Long enough that I spotted a few things among the rubble that looked like they might not have been broken. Maybe not all was lost, but most of it was.
Word traveled fast, which wasn’t surprising. One of the good things about Lavender Shores was everyone knowing each other, so when Harrison, Adrian, Connor, and Micah showed up, the police let them enter. With the four of them at our sides, and Jasper’s hand in mine, we took stock of the rest of the apartment.
The bookshop wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. Most of the books had been ripped off the shelves in the rear of the space and some in the middle, but no shelving had been destroyed. I was surprised it wasn’t worse. Maybe Neal had spent most of his rage on the alcove and the bed. Maybe he’d started in on the bookshop in the middle of the night and someone had walked by the windows and startled him into running away.
Through it all, Jasper absorbed it in wide-eyed apathy. Only when Harrison insisted that Jasper and I stay with him and Adrian, did Jasper return to life. He wasn’t going to be chased out of his home. Wasn’t going to give Neal the power. No amount of arguing or pleading could persuade him.
I didn’t try too hard to dissuade him. The police were going to be patrolling every few moments all night long, I had no doubt. And unless the man was utterly and completely incapable of practical thought, there was no way Neal would return.
Like the kitchen, the guest bedroom I’d occupied hadn’t sustained any damage. Proving that Neal knew who Jasper was, he’d gone for the heart, for the areas that would hurt Jasper the most.
We lay there in the dark, my body curled around Jasper as I held him tightly to me. I kept hoping he would fall asleep, but just when I decided he had, he’d let out another long, sad sigh. Again, for the billionth time, I felt powerless. “I can practically hear your thoughts. You’ve got to quit beating yourself up. This wasn’t your fault.”
He snorted, and was silent for several moments before he finally whispered, “You know, you told me in the past you aren’t very good at reading people’s emotions. Either you lied, or you’re completely unaware of your uncanny ability. I constantly feel like what I’m thinking is displayed on the big-screen for you or something.”
It was strange, but with Jasper it sort of felt that way. “That’s only confirmation that you are beating yourself up.” I pulled him closer. “Cut it out. This is Neal’s fault, not yours.”
Another snort. “Really? Using Mom’s birthday as a security code wasn’t my fault?”
I’d questioned that when I first arrived and Jasper and Harrison had taken me through all the details. “You were sure Neal didn’t know it.”
“I can’t believe he did. He never acknowledged it when we were together, at least not after that first year.” Jasper shook his head, his scruff scraping against the pillow. He was quiet for a while, and once again I could hear the wheels turning in his mind. “What do you think he’s doing? All these days in between. I don’t believe he’s hanging out in Lavender Shores. Someone would notice him. So where is he going? What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. The police are still trying to figure out where he’s getting the roses. The flower shop here says they’re not from them. Maybe they’ll have something to tell us soon.” I wasn’t sure if I should keep going, if it made things better or worse to keep talking about him, but since that’s where Jasper’s mind was anyway, I decided to go with it. “I have a theory, though. Wanna hear it? See if it rings true for you?”
He nodded again.
“Neal was pretty big into the drug scene.”
Jasper gave a third snort, this one even more derisive than the others. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“My bet is that he’s using again. Probably going on binges. Who knows, maybe in one of the towns nearby, or more likely in San Francisco.” I soothed my hand over Jasper’s bare arm as I spoke. “From what I can tell, the police have done a good job communicating with other local law enforcement. If he was hanging out in one of the smaller towns, we’d know. So he’s got to be going back and forth between here and the city. And short of setting up roadblocks night and day, there’d be no way to catch him,
besides luck.”
At his slow headshake, it was like the room got darker.
“I can feel you doing it.” I squeezed his arm. “Quit beating yourself up.”
Jasper pulled out of my grasp and flipped around to face me, though he was barely visible. “All the evidence is there, Russell. Nothing I didn’t already know, but it’s hard to have it shoved back in my face over and over again.”
I tried to make sense of it but couldn’t. “Evidence of what? Neal using again?”
“No. That I was such a fucking idiot. I know the police didn’t believe me back then when I swore I wasn’t aware Neal was using. That I had no idea he was dealing drugs. Hell, I had no idea he’d been cheating on me. He was the first guy to pay me any attention.” Jasper laughed darkly and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “That first day of college, all he had to do was look my way, bat his eyes, and tell me I was pretty. And I was his for five fucking years.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shakily. “Things were amazing for a few months. Then they went to shit. Drunk, mean, name-calling, all the fights, all the jealousy over nothing, the accusations. I wish he’d started hitting me right from the beginning. Maybe then I wouldn’t have ignored it. Wouldn’t have thought I needed to stay and work it out. But I did. For five years, Russell. All the evidence was right in front of my face, and I was blind to it. Thought he needed rescuing. Thought I could get back the man—the relationship—I’d had for those first few months. I was so desperate for attention, so desperate to be loved, that I was willing to put up with anything, and fell for the first jackass to spare me a glance.”
And again Jasper laughed, a horrible sound. “I was shocked when he got arrested for drugs. But so happy. I couldn’t even feel betrayed by that point. I hadn’t seen it coming, but it was like I’d been given a gift. The first few years I tried to save him, but then I gave up and was just trapped. I couldn’t leave. I don’t even know why, I just couldn’t. And then… he was gone. Locked away. The decision was made for me. I never had to man up and save myself. He was just gone, and I was free.”
I wasn’t sure if I should touch him again or not, so I didn’t. “So that was the night you went to the bathhouse. The night we met.”
“Yeah.” Jasper’s hand found mine, solving my dilemma. “That was who you were with that night. I thought I was celebrating. I was so happy and free. I saw it as a way to shake Neal off me. To prove exactly how free I was. To have another man touch me, a random man who would be safe enough that I wouldn’t fall into another stupid, suffocating relationship. And there you were.” I thought I heard tears in his voice. “Good thing you didn’t know the kind of guy you were fucking that night, huh?”
“Cut that shit out. Seriously.” I squeezed his hand, probably harder than I’d meant to. “How can you know what I told you, about why I was there that night, and still say that? I’d just lost my career, my marriage, everything. I was shattered and broken and weak. How the hell could I judge you?”
He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either.
“You know what I see when I think back to that night, knowing what I know now?”
The scratch of his scruff against the pillow filled the silence once more as he shook his head.
“I see strength, bravery.” I scooted closer, so our faces were only inches apart, and repositioned our entwined hands up to rest against my chest. “I see a man who’d just lived through five years in hell and didn’t crumble when it was over. And trust me, I saw that all the time. The partner of some abusive jackass ends up alone, and instead of feeling free, they have no idea what to do so they jump into another abusive relationship. You didn’t do that, Jasper. You went to the bathhouse, said I’m going to get fucked the way I want to get fucked, and then you hit reset on life, moved across country, opened your dream bookshop, and built this beautiful existence. You did that, Jasper. You did all of that.”
“And my past showed up and shattered everything. The past that I chose.”
The darkness filling Jasper’s voice cut ever deeper; it scared me. I hadn’t thought he could sound like that. He was always so bright and beautiful. But it was a sound I recognized all too well.
“You escaped him before. You’ll escape him again. And we’ll rebuild everything that was lost. You heard Harrison, he’s already contacted someone who will rebuild the alcove tomorrow. We’ll get it all back, either exactly how it was, or we’ll make it bigger and better, if that’s what you want.”
Jasper was silent again, but just for a second, before he launched back in, this time anger burning at his words. “You think I was brave? That I was able to hit reset and build this new life by my own merit? Did you somehow miss that my brother is Harrison Getty? In case you didn’t realize, he played professional football, was a model, had his own fucking reality TV show. The man has more money than God.” He jerked his hand away and sat up. “Harrison restarted my life for me. I didn’t have any money to move across the country. You think I could afford to buy the bookshop and this apartment? You think I did any part of this on my own?” He was nearly yelling, the tears finally flowing down his cheeks, glistening in the dim light coming through the window. “I didn’t. I’ve never had to do anything on my own. I didn’t even make the choice to come out. Harrison did it for me. Took all the attention and focus from Dad so he’d have the macho, perfect son he always wanted and I’d be invisible. He made it where I was safe to be my gay, geeky, pathetic little self.”
I joined him in a seated position and took his face in both of my hands. “No wonder I love you.”
“What?” Jasper flinched so hard, that he jerked his face away and nearly lost his balance. He stayed upright, and a cloud must’ve moved from in front of the moon as light suddenly illuminated his expression, which was a mix of utter shock and horror, that swiftly transitioned to confusion. “You love me?” Without the brighter light, with as soft as his words were, I wouldn’t have heard them, but I saw them on his lips.
Maybe I hadn’t meant to say them, but my words didn’t surprise or alarm me. I’d figured out way too soon that I was in love with Jasper. And every single second only took me deeper. “Yeah. I do.”
Again his mouth moved, though this time it was completely silent before he shook his head and finally glared at me. “Now you figure it out? When you realize what a complete fuckup, weak, helpless sack of—”
That time I grabbed his jaw and held it tight, not enough to hurt or bruise, but firm enough to shut him up. “I don’t care what you’ve been through. I don’t care what that fucker did to your brain, or your waste of space father either. I am not going to sit here and listen to you rip yourself apart. So shut the fuck up. I love you, and I won’t take having you hurt yourself like you are. And no, I didn’t just realize that I love you. That knowledge has slammed into me multiple times with about every corner I’ve turned around. But I just figured out why.”
The tears started again, but they were slow. Jasper lifted his hand, placed it over mine, and moved it from his jaw and repositioned our hands to his lap. “Why?”
And it all poured out. Things I hadn’t even realized I’d been keeping secret from myself. “I loved being a police officer, and I miss it with everything in me. But I didn’t have to work for that job. I wasn’t even the one most qualified. But I was a Wallace. I rose through the ranks as smooth as a hot knife through butter. Again, I was good, but not the best. But I was a Wallace. That name meant something to the Nashville police. Hell, we’d been Nashville-police royalty for generations. If I’d lost my shit on any other person, for any other reason, I wouldn’t have lost my badge. I could’ve shot an unarmed man in the back and they would’ve covered for me.” I had to take a second to breathe. I was not going to cry. I just wasn’t. “I think the only thing that the Wallace name didn’t cover was being a faggot, and defending one. To the department’s way of thinking, to my family’s way of thinking, that kid’s dad was doing exactly what any good father would d
o. Whatever it took to save his son from being a queer, even if it meant beating him within an inch of his life.”
“How the hell does that compare to me being weak and never having to do anything on my own?”
“Because I never did, either. Everything I achieved, everything I was, even everything I thought I was had been laid out for me. I didn’t question a thing, just connected the dots. Nearly beating that man to death was the first decision I think I ever made on my own. But even that, I didn’t make. My body did it for me. If I’m being honest, the first decision I ever made, the first real one, was going to the Male Box that night and choosing you.”
“You didn’t choose me.” Jasper was barely audible once more. “You were half asleep. I chose you.”
God, how I loved those words, and I couldn’t hold back a short burst of happy laughter. “Yeah, you did choose me, didn’t you?” I kept going before he could reply. “But I picked you as well. I’d been all over that nasty little place, nearly decided to leave. Almost convinced myself I wasn’t the big old fag I thought I was. Turned every single man down. And then you showed up, standing in front of me like a vision.” I leaned in closer. “I think I fell in love with you then and there.”
Jasper laughed a little and gave a snotty sniff.
“What? What are you thinking?”
He laughed again and rolled his eyes. “I’ve read so many romance novels that I can’t even begin to count. But not one of them had such a pathetic beginning to a love story as this one.”
“I don’t care.” I lifted my free hand and cupped his cheek once more. “I never thought I’d get a love story.”
“You deserve better. Haven’t you been listening to me?”
“Goddammit, dude. I thought we’d covered this. Quit slitting your own throat.” So that was what love was. Loving someone so much that you simultaneously wanted to smother them with a pillow, because they were pissing you off so badly and yet needing to wrap them in your arms and hold them just so you could breathe. “My thinking has been screwed up, obviously, many times over in my life—hell, for most of my life. But I never, not once, believed that money made a man. Just because your brother gave you the cash doesn’t mean you didn’t build this place, doesn’t mean you didn’t choose to start over. Do you know how few people ever really start over? How few people actually go for what they want, for what they dream? And so what if Harrison paved the way for you to be gay in your own home? You were gay everywhere else on your own. Don’t tell me that was easy in high school in Nashville. I know better. You think you couldn’t have made the same choice as Harrison? You couldn’t have been your daddy’s second little football player? You couldn’t have given him the two stars of male perfection he wanted?”
The Alcove (Lavender Shores Book 7) Page 23