Jasper Vale (The Edens #4)(42)

He nodded. “For now.”

Mom coughed, clearing her throat. She had tears in her eyes. “I need to get started on dinner.”

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the stables. She’d retreat to her kitchen and shed a few tears of joy. Then she’d fuss over Mateo the moment he crossed the threshold.

Everyone trickled out behind her, one by one, heading for the house.

Except Jasper.

He walked toward the stall, peering inside to look at the foal.

I took the space beside him, but I didn’t look at the baby. I stared at his profile, waiting for him to look my way. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Liar.

He’d told me last night he wasn’t one for family functions. Why? What was I missing? What was his family like? Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for this. Part of me wanted to beg, to plead with him to just . . . try. Instead, I told him what was in my heart.

“I don’t want them to hate you when this is over,” I whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s easier that way?”

“What do you mean, easier?”

He lifted a shoulder. “They don’t need to know me to hate me.”

“But I don’t want them to hate you.” My heart twisted. Why would they hate him?

“I don’t care if they do.”

“Jasper.” My voice cracked. “I do.”

Was that how he saw us ending? With hate in our hearts? Part of me wanted to hug him. The other part wanted to throw a handful of horse shit in his face for being such an idiot.

“I don’t want them to curse your name,” I said. “To talk about you for years as the bad guy who broke my heart. I don’t want them to think of you that way, because it’s not how I want to think of you.”

He sighed, snagging my hand and pulling me into his arms. He kissed my hair. Then together, we walked to the house.

But nothing changed.

Through dinner, he hardly spoke. He only answered questions that were directed at him.

Yes, he was quiet normally. But this was different. Tense. Even when Foster engaged with him, he gave the shortest answers possible. Until people stopped trying. Everyone gave their attention to Mateo instead, while I fought the urge to cry.

Jasper seemed determined to be the villain.

Maybe he was right. Maybe that would make it easier. Maybe it didn’t matter what anyone thought of my husband.

This was just a lie anyway.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





JASPER





Foster and I sat across from each other on the mats at his gym, stretching our hamstrings after a three-mile run.

“So did you see the announcement?” he asked.

“I did.”

This was the subject I’d been waiting for him to bring up all morning. I’d thought he might want to talk about it during the run. Instead, he’d stayed quiet, letting me push him faster and faster. Until now, when he was ready.

“Great statement,” I said.

“Talia helped me write it.”

Foster had announced his retirement today. In the news article I’d read this morning, he’d thanked the UFC and his fans for supporting him throughout his career. He’d even thanked me.

His retirement wasn’t news, not to those of us who knew him personally. He’d told me about it weeks ago but had chosen to hold off on the announcement to ride the wave of his final victory for just a little bit longer.

Until now, when it was time to say goodbye.

“It feels strange.” He dragged a hand over his beard. “Not bad, just . . . I don’t know the right word.”

“Official.”

“Something like that.”

“You all right? No second thoughts?”

He shook his head. “No regrets. I’m where I need to be.”

And he had a whole future ahead of him, a life to build with Talia and their growing family.

“Even though I’m retired, you’re still my trainer,” he said.

“I know.”

He’d told me the same thing when he’d shared his decision to step away from fighting. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Foster would pay me for the rest of his life just to run alongside him around Quincy. To spar with him at his private gym. To stretch in this very spot.

But training had never been about the money. I didn’t need money.

I’d started training because I’d needed . . . something.

More than ten years I’d been doing this and I still couldn’t exactly articulate that something.

The physical release was part of it. So was the thrill of watching a student or athlete win. And when I’d started down this path, it had been the first time in my life when I hadn’t felt like a second thought. When I’d walked into my first dojo all those years ago, I hadn’t been a burden.

Finally, I’d been in the right place at the right time.

Montana had been the right place, initially. With Foster’s retirement, well . . . I wasn’t sure what was next.

For years, Foster had forged the path. He’d led. I’d followed. That had suited me just fine. But he’d finished his journey. He’d found that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.