Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(66)

“They wouldn’t have rested until they found her. Whether her people or mine, they never would’ve stopped coming for her. And that would’ve put you in danger. Every day for the rest of your life. She didn’t want that. Neither did I. We couldn’t risk you, honey. I couldn’t risk you. Not my Muse.”

My eyes sting with unshed tears. I don’t try to stop them from falling. They just don’t. I think they can’t. Maybe I’m in shock. Or maybe I’m just all cried out.

“I hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you. I just didn’t want you to have to live with that in your head. In your heart.”

At this, I stand up, straightening my spine and raising my chin. “I’m stronger than you think, Dad.”

“I never thought you were weak.”

“Yes, you did. You just never wanted to admit it.” He starts to argue, but I cut him off by moving past him. “I’m going to bed. If this is a one-bedroom, I hope you don’t mind the couch.”

With that, I walk numbly to the first bed I come to and I fall face-first onto it.





THIRTY-TWO


Jasper

Rogan and Tag have long since faded down the street, yet still I sit here in my car, thinking. Avoiding. Trying not to feel. Failing miserably.

I’m agonizing over what I have to do. I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s really the only thing to do. I never would’ve imagined myself in this position. I didn’t think I was capable of . . . all this. But even if I had, I wouldn’t have imagined it being this hard.

Finally resolute, I get out of the car and open the trunk, taking out the small black duffel. I never thought I’d use this in such a way either. These days “never” isn’t as absolute as it once was.

I never thought I’d lose my mother the way I did. I never thought I’d have to worry about betrayal from one of my own. I never thought I’d hesitate to do my job. I never thought I’d meet someone who could make me feel so much—desire, frustration, guilt, regret. And probably even love. I don’t want to start labeling things; it just gets even more complicated. Best not to go there. I just need to get this over with and move on. She’ll be better off and that’s what’s important.

I walk quietly back toward the Colonel’s little house on the hill and I mount the steps. I don’t bother knocking, but I do notice the silence when I close the door behind me. I check the living room, which is empty, and then the kitchen, which is not. The Colonel is sitting at the island, toying with an old picture of a woman who looks remarkably like Muse.

He glances up when I stop in the doorway. We stare at each other, exchanging information without saying a word.

He glances at my bag. I heft it up as if to say Yes? this is what I’m doing.

He sighs and nods, knowing it’s the right choice. The only choice.

“Afterward, get out of the country.”

I nod in return.

He tips his head to indicate the space behind me. I turn to follow his silent instruction.

I walk to the first closed door I find and I knock softly. There’s no answer, so I turn the knob and push until there’s a crack big enough for me to see through.

Muse is lying facedown on the bed, unconscious. Her chin is tipped just enough toward me that I can see her relaxed expression. The other half of her face is buried in the comforter. Her fiery hair is spread out behind her like she’s on fire and running as fast as the wind.

God, she’s beautiful! I’ve never met someone who bothers me on so many levels. And I say bother because anything that upsets my carefully maintained existence is a bother. Or at least it was. Until I met her.

She’s the most mind-blowing, body-quaking bother I could ever imagine meeting. I love so many things about her that I can tick off a dozen things without even having to think. I love the way she wholeheartedly throws herself into what she feels. She doesn’t hold back. She just jumps. I love that I can turn her to putty in my hands with a simple touch or look. I love that she can stand against all my rough edges and never get cut. I love that she accepted who and what I am without all the lies I could’ve told her. And probably most and least of all, I love that, despite my resistance, she made me feel. She woke me up. She brought me to life.

But all good things must come to an end. And this is our end.

I look down at her peaceful face. Even though I want to touch her and taste her, to commit her scent and her feel to memory, I don’t want to wake her. She needs the sleep, the rest. The escape. I walk to the bedside table and ease open the drawer. There is a notepad and pen inside, which I remove. I jot her a quick note and set it on top of the black bag, which I leave on the floor right in front of her. She should see it as soon as she wakes. And if she doesn’t want to take my offer, her father will talk her into it. He’ll help her see the wisdom in it.

As for me, I didn’t get the good-bye that I’d like. Hell, I’d rather not say good-bye at all. But this is the best one I can give her. I just hope she’ll understand it.

It’s as I’m backing silently out the door that Muse wakes. She lifts her head a couple of inches and fixes her bleary eyes on me. I see confusion. When she speaks, I wonder if she’s actually awake.

“Jasper?”

“Go back to sleep,” I tell her softly.

“Don’t go,” she slurs, resting her head back in the same dip from which she raised it.