Page 63 of Discretion

I sighed. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Even if I wanted to. God, how I wanted to stay. To avoid reality for a little longer.

My dad had been recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and these past few weeks with Jasper had been the only thing keeping me sane. Jasper had been my escape. My salvation.

“Because of Kai.”

And my dad, I thought. But I didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not when Jasper’s hands were still caressing my skin. Not when our naked bodies were intertwined.

I nodded. It was true—I needed to get home to Kai. But it wasn’t the full truth.

There was no way Jasper and I could be together in the real world. And spending the night with him was merely prolonging the inevitable.

“I just…” He sighed, his fingers tracing mine. “I don’t want this to end. Not when it feels like the start of something…”

I kissed him. I would always wonder what he’d wanted to say, but I couldn’t bear to hear it. So I’d kissed him.

Passionately. Deeply. Pouring everything I felt into that kiss.

Devastating. The man was absolutely devastating.

What had started out as a way to escape reality, to numb the pain, had turned into something else entirely.

When I pulled back, Jasper opened his mouth to speak. I cupped his cheek and shook my head, hoping he’d understand.

This had already gone on long enough. It had to end.

“Last summer?”Jasper’s question was an echo, and I could see a million questions swimming in his bottomless eyes.

“Last summer, after my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I wasn’t in the best place mentally. Honestly, there are still many days that I struggle.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. The grief will always be there, but with time, it will get easier.”

He gave my hand a squeeze before releasing me. I felt the loss of his touch, his warmth. He leaned back to rest his elbows on the step behind him.

I clutched his jacket to me, its scent familiar and calming. I’d forgotten what it was like to be enveloped by him, and I ached to hold him after his earlier confession. I ached to be held by him, to feel that comfort and warmth and protection that he so willingly gave.

“And your fears? How did you get past them?” I asked. “Or did you?”

“There are times it still affects me. Not to the extent it once did. But grounding myself in the present always helps. It reminds me that I can’t control life, but I can appreciate the time I have with loved ones. Focusing on sensory details or doing mindfulness exercises helps.”

“I can see that. You’re always so aware of your environment and putting people at ease.”

He smiled at that, and my heart lifted a little. He’d been through so much; all of them had. But it also made meadmire him even more. He was strong and resilient, but he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable.

“Connection also helps center me, touch. Adopting Rosie has been a game changer. I used to spend a lot of time with Graham’s Irish wolfhounds, and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed having a companion to come home to.”

“And Graham?”

He kicked at a piece of lint on the stairs. “Yeah. I miss him too.”

It was the first time he’d admitted as much, but I wasn’t surprised. Jasper and Graham might be as different as night and day, but they had an unshakable bond.

“I’m sure he misses you as well.”

Jasper’s expression turned more serious. “Not likely. He’s so busy with Lily and the château and the new Fleur-de-lis line of properties.”

“You’re busy too,” I said. “And yet you still miss him.”