Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(84)

“Yeah. You’re definitely getting old. That store is called Forever 21.”

Rhett swipes a hand through the air as though batting away a fly. “Whatever. I only know about the skimpy dresses.”

“Are you two done? I need a drink if I’m going to stay here all night.” Winter’s arms cross over her stomach protectively. From what I know, she and Summer have been mostly estranged all their lives, and for good reason. But in recent months, they’ve been trying to mend that bridge.

“Ah, yes, Winter, meet my protégé Theo Silva. Theo, meet Doctor Winter Hamilton, my future sister-in-la—”

“Winter Valentine,” she corrects stiffly.

“For now,” Theo reiterates and winks at her. She rolls her eyes dramatically, which makes Theo smile bigger as he sticks his hand out to shake hers.

She walks past Theo’s outstretched hand without a second glance, and he rolls with it by swiping his palm through his hair, joking like he wasn’t trying to shake her hand at all.

“Call your dog off, Eaton,” she mutters as she passes Rhett and enters the log ranch house.

“Woof!” Theo makes a deep barking sound into the snowy night air, and Rhett laughs at him as Winter disappears.

“You’re an idiot, Theo.”

“Dude. I think I’m in love with your sister-in-law. She’s so fiery.”

Rhett shakes his head as he turns to go back into the house, Theo on his heels. “Like I said, man, you’re an idiot.”

The door closes, and Jasper and I snuggle up into each other on the quiet bench again.

“Well . . .” he starts, arms swiping up over my back. “Should we go in? I don’t want to miss this dinner. It’s gonna be a good one. I can tell already.”

“Yeah.” I chuckle, kissing his bristly cheek. “Let’s go.”

I go to extricate myself from his lap, but his hands clamp down on me, keeping me where I am.

“First, can I come to The Nutcracker? I wanna see you dance. I wanna be there. Front row. Big bouquet of roses. The whole thing.”

“You better be there, Gervais.” I grin at him, heart swelling in my chest. Having the people I love in the audience is the best part, and suddenly my heart twangs at the loss I feel where my parents are concerned.

They might not be there, and I’ll be spending Christmas without them for the first time in twenty-eight years.

My birthday is this week too. I absently wonder if I’ll miss that with them as well.

But as we stand, Jasper squeezes my hand and draws me close. And nothing in the world has ever felt more right.

I can’t have them but I have him. And the more time I spend living my own life, the more I think that’s an okay trade to make.

Jasper is worth it.





32

Jasper


Beau: Dad just told me you paid four times face value for a front row ticket to see Sloane dance. They pay y’all too much to run around on ice wearing blades.

Jasper: It’s an investment.

Beau: In what?

Jasper: Us.

Beau: Oh, dude. You’re so far gone.

Jasper: You’re such a dork.

Beau: Only you would have waited this long. I almost feel bad she had to fall for someone as slow to process as you. Do they give Olympic medals for patience? You could give her yours.

Jasper: You know what her dickhead of a dad said to me.

Beau: Yeah. But that was then. That guy ain’t shit sharp now. You’re Jasper fucking Gervais. Olympic gold medalist. Future Stanley Cup Champion. Sports Illustrated cover model material. Cousin fucker.

Jasper: I am really glad you’re alive. But I also hate you.

Beau: Hate you too, bro.




Sloane is incredible. She weaves magic on stage.

I’ve come to know her body well over the last couple of months, but I’m still in awe of the way she moves, the attention to detail. From the tips of her toes to the very ends of her fingers, she’s in perfect control of every movement without even trying.

She’s stepped into this role and made it look effortless beyond compare. She leaps across the stage and lands so softly, and from the front row, I feel like I’m right there with her.

In the moment . . . oblivious to the ornate theater and every person around me.

But she’s always had this effect on me. The ability to pull me out of my head just by chatting, or dancing, or resting a hand on my shoulder.

It’s like she and I are tethered together, but she’s the strong one. The pillar. And when troubled waters wash me downstream, all I have to do is follow the rope that ties me back to her.

It always leads me back to her.

Getting to watch her do something she loves from the front row rather than back in the nosebleeds is something special. The spot where her tattoo sits itches, and I press my arm against it.

I missed her first one, but I wouldn’t miss the rest if I could help it, even if it means a grown-ass man sitting by himself in the front row at the ballet.

Seems like the least I could endure for her.

Because I love having her at my games, and I know she must feel the same. When the dancers line up to take their final bows, her eyes find mine and a heart-stopping grin spreads out over her captivating face.

And I realize it then . . . I’d do anything to see this girl smile.