Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(24)

“Because that’s what I would do if I were in your position.” A tinny laugh follows her statement, and my eyes bug out at her admission.

I know she married into a wealthy family like her own, while her sister married Harvey and lived a quieter life on the ranch. I’ve often wondered if she’s happy in her marriage but never quite worked up the courage to ask.

“Mom, I—”

My phone dies in my hand.

“What happened?” Jasper’s voice is all gravel.

“It . . . it died.” I shake my head, running her words of advice through my mind on replay.

“And what did she say?”

“She said if she were me, she’d go away for a while.”

“What about the ballet? You must need to go back soon.”

I scoff. “I took a leave to plan the wedding. So I’m off through Christmas because I opted out of The Nutcracker.”

“Why did you take a leave? The wedding is just one day.”

Slumping down further into the seat, I let the back of my head roll back and forth as I confess something that sounds so asinine my stomach curdles just saying it out loud. “Sterling said I needed to be”—I hold my hands up in sarcastic air quotes—“present to plan the wedding and enjoy the honeymoon.”

I run a thumb over the small pink scar from where I cut myself with the massive diamond on my finger. I should really take my ring off. I even want to take it off. It’s not Sterling that keeps me from doing it. It’s that I have this deep sense that once I remove it, everything in my life will change. I’ll be a new me, and nothing will look the same anymore. My family. My upbringing. Everything I’ve come to know.

And that scares me.

A muscle in Jasper’s jaw pops, and the skin over his knuckles thins under the pressure of him squeezing the steering wheel. “Fucking Woodcock.”

I snort a laugh. Woodcock.

“So what are you going to do?” The tip of his tongue catches between his straight white teeth, as though he’s biting it to keep himself from saying anything more.

“What do you think I should do?”

His mouth twists. “Sunny, the last thing you need in your life is another man telling you what to do.”

I sigh and turn away to stare at the dark fields flashing past the passenger window. I’d kill to have Jasper Gervais tell me what to do. The fact he doesn’t think he should makes me want it even more.

I need someone to take charge but with my best interests in mind. Not a business. Not perception. Me. My needs.

“What would Beau do?” I murmur under my breath.

I don’t mean to say it loud enough that Jasper will hear me, which is why I start when Jasper responds with, “He’d get the fuck outta dodge and go do something for himself.”





9

Jasper


Cade: Why don’t you join us for dinner soon?




Rhett: Beers tomorrow?




Roman: If you need to talk, I’m always around. Take care of yourself.




I curl up in my childhood bed, huddled in a tight ball like I might if I had a hangover. Like if I just lie still and quiet, I won’t hurt.

But then I remember that my brother is missing and everything hurts.

I don’t even want to think about it. I want to push it into the same corner where I keep my sister Jenny. But it’s not working. My mental game is shit right now—something I’ve proven over and over on the ice lately.

Years of ongoing sports therapy to hone my mind to handle the pressure of my position and it all crumbles with one swift kick to the foundation. Those vine-like intrusive thoughts creep up and threaten to strangle me.

I tried to do the exercise that’s always worked for me. Four seconds is all I give myself to think dark thoughts. I soak in them but only for four seconds. After that I swap to envisioning myself kicking ass, playing my best, and making a highlight reel-worthy save. And then I think about something else entirely.

Just four seconds of fear or sadness or doubt. Four seconds of insanity. That’s all I’ll allow.

But not anymore. Right now I’m sitting with those dark thoughts like they’re an old friend.

I push to sit, pads of my fingers sinking into the too-soft mattress. The house was quiet when we got here. Everyone hiding away in their own corners to deal with this in their own way.

Rhett has Summer.

Cade has Willa.

Violet has Cole.

It seems like every Eaton has someone to lean on. Except me. And Harvey. Which is why I’ve stayed here for so long. I can’t stomach the thought of leaving him all alone in this house after he made sure that I wasn’t all alone as a teenager.

Everyone I’ve cared about in life has left in me in some way or another—it’s part of my persona now. I can’t control who leaves, but I can control everything else to a point where my anxiety doesn’t cripple me.

But this? This is ravaging me and I can’t control shit.

“Fuck!” I roar, right as I turn and smash my fist into the wallpapered drywall beside me.

A low, sob sound lurches from my lungs as pain lances through my knuckles. I shake my hand and internally berate myself. How fucking old am I? Punching a wall like an angry little teenager.

My door flies open, and Sloane’s slender frame is a silhouette in the open doorway. “Jas?” She sounds panicked, a little breathless, like she ran here.