Page 21

Chapter 21

Jasper

W hen Jasper had wrenched the door open again, Caleb was gone. Of course he was. Confronted with the knowledge of what Jasper really was, how could he do anything but leave?

Malcolm left too, and good fucking riddance. It meant Jasper was alone to fall apart.

He fished the Oreos out of the trash and sat down on the fine leather sofa—treated leather, of course, because you could just wipe it off. He grimaced. But that wasn’t the point. With shaky hands, he opened the pack of Oreos.

He’d never bothered counting them before. There’d always been the prospect of more, but there wouldn’t be more from Caleb.

Thirty–nine. And now that the pack was open, he’d be lucky if the cookies stayed fresh for more than a week or so. Still, he could stand a couple stale cookies.

He’d eat three a day. One for breakfast, one for lunch, and one for dinner. Make them last.

He picked out his first one, twisted the cookies apart, and ate top and bottom separately, just to spread it out.

Jasper had gotten halfway through his pack of Oreos when he started to get hungry again. The real kind of hungry.

He wasn’t sure he would’ve cared, except Caleb had tried so hard to make him well. He’d killed an enormous monster and fought for him, and Jasper couldn’t just throw that effort away.

He dragged his ass back to Silverstone’s Emporium, trusting that Sasha hadn’t read Poppy wrong and the whole thing with the flowers had been a big misunderstanding. Leaving the apartment meant showering and making himself presentable for the first time in days. It was exhausting.

The bell above the door jingled when he entered, and Poppy Silverstone came out of the back. She stood there, staring, and Jasper’s feet glued to the spot as she started to glare.

“Ah, you.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Sorry, but I’m done with your whole”—she waved her hand down his body—“sad, suffering, twinkubus bullshit. We’re closed.”

Jasper blinked. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

He expected the world to be disgusted with him, but he didn’t hear it out loud often. And she’d been so ready to help the last time he’d been there, even if her advice was unhelpful. Jasper was completely willing to accept that he’d eaten the wrong flower, done something the wrong way, somehow made the whole poison fiasco entirely his fault.

Of course, maybe she’d hated him from the start—had wanted him poisoned—and Sasha had been wrong the whole time. Hell, plenty of people had valid reasons for hating incubi.

“Listen, if I’ve—if I’ve done something to offend you, I’m really sorry, Ms. Silverstone.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrank into his rounded shoulders.

That only made her madder. Hands braced on the counter, she leaned toward him like those few inches would be enough that her glare would catch him on fire.

“You’re sorry? I sent you out into the woods, gave you a shot at everything , and here you are back again for—what? Baby incubus is hungee?” For the last, she used a cold, high, mocking voice.

He had no idea what he’d done, but he shrank further under her anger. “I’m sorry. The flowers didn’t work. They, uh, they made me sick and?—”

“Yeah, and you’d have been fine if you hadn’t shoved half a dozen in your mouth. They just suppress your, you know, pheromones or whatever. Doesn’t feel great . Might make you sick. But if you’d just eaten one, it’d have worn off in a day.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been trying to kill him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted again. “Just, one day wasn’t going to fix?—”

“It wasn’t about one day!”

Was she mad because he’d messed up? He hadn’t hurt anyone but himself. Well, himself and?—

“Caleb tried with you,” she hissed. “He really tried. And do you have any idea how hard that is for him? How rare? And he didn’t do it because of your demonic whatever, or your stupid pretty face—he did it because he’s good. And he’s fucking lonely. And I am the idiot who thought you were different because you’re sad .” Her face had turned a scary, pale white, her eyes flashing like she could open a hole in the fabric of the universe and chuck him through. “Well, now he’s sad. And you, Jasper Jones—you can go and fuck yourself.”

Jasper stood there, gaping at her. Her glare didn’t let up, but he didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, again, like that meant anything to anyone.

He rushed out of the shop, got in his car, and sped home. By the time he got into the flat, he was shaking.

For a long time, he sat there with his hands curled around the steering wheel. He didn’t know why Poppy Silverstone cared about Caleb, but it didn’t matter. She was right. He definitely didn’t deserve her help.

There were too many people on the sidewalk. Slowly, Jasper’s hunger came back—a thrumming ache he wanted nothing to do with. He forced himself back into their building, up the elevator, to their apartment.

“Fucking hell, are you starving yourself again?” Malcolm asked from the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table, when Jasper let himself in.

Jasper didn’t have words. He rushed to his room and threw himself on the bed.

A minute later, or maybe an hour, there was a soft knock on the door. He grunted. He didn’t want company, even Sasha’s, but she slipped inside anyway.

“Hey,” she whispered. The bed sank with her weight, and she touched his shoulder. “Tell me what’s going on?”

“I fucked everything up,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Okay, couldn’t hear that. You’re gonna have to?—”

He lifted his head. “I fucked everything up.”

That, the whole world deserved to hear.

“That’s hard to believe. You’re a little too sweet to go fucking up everything , Jas. What happened?”

Before he knew what he was doing, because she was his sister, he was spouting out the whole story—the flowers, how Caleb had picked him up and nursed him back to health, how hard he’d fought, how kind he’d been, and how Jasper had left him anyway.

“I don’t know how we—how we can be with someone, Sasha. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want him to go all glassy eyed and empty. I love him the way he is now. I just?—”

She grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back, so he had to look at her. “You listen to me, Jasper, you are not Dad. And you’re not Malcolm, and you’re not just a demon. You’re Jasper Jones, and if you want to be with Caleb the kind-hearted bear man, you can do that.”

“How?” His voice cracked pathetically.

“You said those flowers suppress our influence?”

Jasper nodded.

“Well, maybe try that? Not all the time—sounds shitty. But you’re worried about Caleb’s consent?”

He nodded again.

“Well, Caleb can consent to being with you, even if you’re an incubus and a demon. Not everyone hates that, and we do come with some pretty cool fringe benefits.” She winked. “As for the thrall thing, don’t treat him like a sex doll, and he won’t become one. Just... treat him like a person. He can make his own choices. Loving you’s a pretty good one.”

Jasper chewed his lip. He was still scared he’d mess up, but she kissed his cheek and pressed on.

“You’re not going to be happy in Lyric anyway, Jas. It’s okay. Just, maybe make him get a landline? I’ll go crazy if you ditch me here with Malcolm and Dad and reclusive Declan and no word.”

Jasper’s mouth felt dry, but slowly, he nodded. Maybe, maybe he could do this.

Then, he was up, grabbing a leather backpack that was more for show than use, and stuffing clothes into it.

“That’s my boy,” Sasha said, making sure he packed his cell phone and charger and—and there wasn’t really much in his room that he needed.

He pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. Then he slipped his feet into his hiking boots. “Give me a ride?”

“Are you ditching your car?”

“I... think so. Caleb’s got one, and mine’s kind of over the top to sit out in the woods all the time. Don’t even know how I’d charge it.”

Sasha grabbed his keys, grinning. “Sweet.” She hugged him tight for a second anyway.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Jasper whispered.

“He’d be a fool not to.”

Jasper wasn’t sure that was true, but he had to try anyway. He slung his backpack onto his shoulders. “I just need to make one stop on the way out of town.”

He had to get some Oreos.