Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(12)

“Perfect,” I murmur reverently as I reach forward and grab the six-pack.

When I spin around, Jasper is smirking at me. “Buddyz Best is perfect?”

“Yes.” I lift the cans to my face and stare at the droopy faced, sad-looking dog. I feel like a basset hound inside right now. “Buddy is the perfect man for me. Cheap. Alcoholic. And most importantly, not a human male at all.”

The grin I give my friend is unhinged at best as I storm to the till and plop the beer down on the counter. Finally, the man lifts his chin from his phone where he’s watching what appears to be competitive bowling.

His eyes assess me before dropping to the beer and glancing back up at Jasper. This guy looks like he’s seen some shit. I expect him to have questions, but all he says is, “Congratulations, you two,” as he scans the beer and tells me the total in a bored tone.

I reach for my purse but realize I left it behind when we ran.

A long arm reaches over me, tossing down a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” Jasper says. He guides me out of the store with a gentle hand cupping my elbow, eyes fixed on my bare feet. “Sunny, you’re gonna need a bath when we get to the ranch.”

“Maybe if I drink enough of these”—I lift the six-pack, feeling a little loopy—“I’ll invite you to join me.”

Jasper just stares back at me, jaw popping like I’ve pissed him off. Not a single word crests his lips, not a single tug up on his cheeks.

“Just kidding!” is what I fill the awkward silence with before turning and scurrying back to the comfortable SUV. I strap myself in, crack a cheap-ass beer, and take a deep swig in an incredibly sad attempt to drink my problems away and forget the off-color joke I just blurted out.

Jasper and I drive in total silence. I continue to drink and he makes no comment on that. Instead, he just grips the steering wheel like he’s trying to strangle it while keeping intense eyes on the road.

And after my third beer on an empty stomach, I feel a little bit better. Also a little bit drunk.

So I monologue, like I often do with Jasper. “You know I didn’t want an ugly fall wedding. I wanted a spring wedding. I wanted a flowy, feminine dress and an outdoor ceremony. No uptight tuxedos, and definitely no black bridesmaid dresses.” I hold up my hand, staring at the rock about the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. “And I hate this ring. I saw one at a little boutique on Sixteenth Avenue—you know that funky area? It was a purple oval sapphire. How cool is a purple sapphire? And they set it sideways in matte yellow gold. Sterling said it was ‘weird’ and then gave me this ring the next week. I swear he picked the opposite of anything I’d ever want on purpose.”

“Romantic,” Jasper says, his jaw ticking with tension.

I drink silently, stewing over the fact I pretended I liked this ring when he gave it to me because I didn’t want to offend anyone.

When we pull into Wishing Well Ranch, Harvey’s truck is in the driveway, even though we thought he and Beau were going to be at the wedding. Jasper and I exchange a confused look, and the second his vehicle is in park, he’s skipping steps to get to the front door. I run after him, heart pounding, because something is off.

Inside, Harvey is sitting at the expansive kitchen table with a big glass of bourbon gripped between his palms. An odd shade of green colors his complexion.

Jasper freezes in the doorway, staring at him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask instantly because it’s one of those moments when you can just tell.

The house is too dark, too quiet.

My uncle, who is always all smiles and warm gazes, looks gutted.

Harvey doesn’t comment on my bare feet or ask why I’m here. Instead, his eyes latch onto Jasper’s and he says, “Beau is missing.”





5

Jasper


I register the sound of Sloane’s beer can hitting the hardwood floor, but everything else is just white noise. Blood rushing. Heart sinking.

Harvey’s haunted face staring at me from the kitchen table is one I’ll never forget. It’s seared into my memory, right beside the day my little sister died.

“I’m going to need you to say that again.” I hear myself talking, but it’s out of body, like I’ve stepped out of my skin and am staring down on myself. I see Sloane swaying, her delicate hand pressed against her lips while the other props herself up against the doorframe.

“Beau is missing,” he says again.

“What do you mean, missing?” It’s like I’ve completely detached from what I didn’t want to hear.

He clears his throat and takes another heavy pull of the amber liquid in his glass. Everyone is anxiety drinking tonight. “Come sit down, son.”

Anxiety unfurls in my chest, spreading through my veins like wildfire and transforming into blind panic. I feel like a cornered animal.

“I don’t want to sit down.” My arms hang limp at my sides. My fingers have gone numb. Beau is my best friend. We’ve been joined at the hip for years. He’s the kid who saved me and brought me here—no questions asked. He’s my brother in every way that counts.

A special forces soldier with a personality the size of his doesn’t just go missing.

“I want to know what’s going on.” My voice sounds hollow and robotic to my own ears.