Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(16)

“What are you doing?” His eyes widen beneath the brim of his maroon Calgary Grizzlies cap pulled down low.

Ignoring his question, I toss my purse into the back and crawl into the seat beside him. He smells minty and fresh, but the circles beneath his eyes are dark and his handsome face looks drawn. He looks sad, but edible in a pair of torn jeans and a downy plaid jacket. I glance down at my simple gray sweat suit that could fit two of me inside it.

Harvey laid it out on my bed for me while I showered last night. I’m sure it’s his, but I’m not about to put my wedding dress back on. So it’s good enough.

I reach forward to crank up the warm air coming from the vents. “Fucking freezing out this morning,” I mumble, catching sight of myself in the rearview mirror, hair all wavy and disheveled, eyes all puffy.

“Sloane. What are you doing?”

I rub my palms together and blow into my cupped hands before reaching over my shoulder to buckle the seat belt. Strapped in, I have a better chance of not launching across the center console to hug the man beside me. “I’m coming with you, Jas. What does it look like?”

He blinks at me. “I have a game tonight.”

“I know you do.” I hunker down into the leather. “Does this thing have heated seats?”

He scoffs. “Of course, it does.” He reaches forward and presses the button that puts the seat to full heat.

“Perfect.” I turn wide eyes on him, signaling that he should get going, but he just stares back at me.

“It’s six in the morning.”

I yawn, holding my hand that is wrapped in the too-long sleeve of the crew neck sweatshirt up to my mouth. “Don’t I know it. Can we stop for a coffee?”

He shifts the cushy SUV into drive, even though I can still see the questions dancing in his eyes. The front of his Volvo is lit only by the dash. It’s early enough and far enough into the year that it’s still fully dark right now, and as the heat from the seat seeps into me, I sigh.

“This is a comfortable car.” My eyes flutter shut. “I almost feel like I could fall asleep.” Lord knows I didn’t sleep a wink last night.

Being a runaway bride that no one could reach stressed me out. And hearing Jasper quietly weep through the thin wall that separated us made me cry too. There were too many things to think about—too much pain to relax— so I laid there, watching the hours tick by on the digital clock. I tried to formulate a plan, visualized my favorite moments on stage, and forced myself to not crawl across the roof and into Jasper’s room to hold him.

Because he wouldn’t want that. Even listening to him felt like an invasion.

“The safest money can buy,” he says, fingers pulsing on the wheel as he looks both ways on the dark country road. Then looks again.

It makes perfect sense he’d choose something incomparably safe.

“You have your purse,” he announces as he finally pulls onto the gravel road.

“Yeah. When I went downstairs, it was on the table with a note from Violet informing me that she was heading back home to be with her babies. I get the sense that everyone is retreating to their own corners with the . . . news.”

“Does that mean you’re going home? To Sterling?” His voice is thick and he sounds resigned.

I press my lips together and force myself to stare out the windshield. “No, Jasper. It means I’m coming with you.”

The lines of his body stiffen at my response. What I just said feels altogether too vulnerable, so I change the subject. “Can we stop at a Walmart or something so I can get some clothes that fit?”

My question has the corners of his mouth tugging up. “I can just see the headline now”—one broad palm waves across the console in a dramatic swoop—“Canadian Telecommunications Heir, Sloane Winthrop, flees wedding and is found shopping at Walmart.”

I snort. “Works for me. Sterling will stop blowing my phone up if he sees me shopping with the peasants.” My fingers do little air quotes when I say peasants, and my eyes roll in time.

Jasper shakes his head but says nothing more.

It strikes me I should be more devastated about my disaster of a wedding day—but I’m not.

I was set to marry someone out of duty, not out of love. I’d dreamed about my wedding since I was a little girl. And I’d given up on that dream enough to agree to spend the rest of my life legally attached to a man who doesn’t care about me at all to help my father close a deal.

It sounds archaic. It sounds insane.

I love my father. He’s always been good to me and doted on his only child, but there’s a niggling voice inside me that says if he loved me as much as I love him, he wouldn’t have asked me to marry a man to further his financial interests.

It’s not something I tell Jasper. He already dislikes my dad and that gets me feeling defensive—whether or not he deserves my defense.

We drive in silence and stop for coffee at the closest drive-through that’s open this early on a Sunday. Closer to the city, we pull into a Walmart, and I tell Jasper I’ll just zip in to grab what I need. He ignores me and unfolds himself from the driver’s seat, grumbling about not letting me go in alone.

I waddle through the parking lot, hanging back because I have to hold the huge sweatpants up so I don’t drop them and flash him. I’ve always wanted to get naked with Jasper—but not like that.