The Christmas Collection, page 25
Mine is larger and rectangular, about the size of a vinyl album, but thicker and sturdier. It feels like it might be a book.
His is much smaller, the size of a jewelry box—because it is a jewelry box.
I crawl over and kneel on the floor in front of him. As I hand him his gift, I look up and tell him, “I want to preface this gift by saying that I didn’t know what to get you when we went shopping. We hadn’t had sex yet, and also you were shopping with me and you pay constant attention to everything, so it was really hard to grab something you wouldn’t notice.”
Jasper’s beautiful lips tug up as he looks down at the present wrapped lovingly in candy cane paper and topped with a tiny silver bow. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to.”
“It’s small, but I thought it was perfect,” I tell him.
“I’m sure it is,” he says, plucking the bow off the package and sticking it on top of my head.
I shoot him a look, but I leave the bow where he put it and watch as he tears into the package.
I picked out something for him at the mercantile where we bought the bulk of our Stillwater gifts. They had these cute little key chains—handmade like everything else—shaped like Minnesota with a red heart where Stillwater is located.
“Since I love the town so much,” I rush to explain. “It’s like, ‘my heart is in Stillwater.’”
He nods, looking down at me and smiling. “I understood the implication. It’s great. Thank you.”
I flash him a smile. Now it’s my turn to open the present he bought me, so I start to tear into it.
“Wait,” he says before I can.
I pause and look up in question.
He scoots over, patting the couch cushion next to his. “Sit up here with me.”
My hesitation fades and I smile again, pushing myself up and joining him on the couch. This is cozier, anyway; I much prefer it to sitting on the floor at his feet.
Not that I can’t think of instances where that might be fun, but this isn’t one of them.
I’m excited to see what he picked out for me, but I can’t shake a slight nervousness, too. It’s his mood more than the gift making me feel that way, but while today filled me with hopes and built up even the wildest of my dreams, Jasper seems… grounded.
We only stand a chance if we’re both willing to be a little crazy, so grounded is not ideal.
Still, I’m optimistic as I run my hand over the red shiny gift wrap. This isn’t the paper I bought, so he must have snuck my gift to his mom or his sister and wrapped it with some of theirs.
“Did you wrap it yourself?” I ask.
“Of course.”
That makes me smile. “Mr. I can’t wrap, I can’t bake—I can’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
He smiles a little at me teasing him, but that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Can I open it now?”
Jasper nods.
I rip the paper off easily—one pull and it all comes undone. He must not have anchored the paper to the gift with a piece of tape like I usually do.
I don’t care about the wrapping though, I want to see what’s inside.
My eyes light up when I see an absolutely beautiful copy of The Night Before Christmas sitting on my lap. It’s a leather bound edition of the children’s book—one I pointed to at the book shop downtown while we were doing our Christmas shopping.
“Jasper, it’s beautiful. I love it.” I smile at him warmly. “Thank you.”
“I know it’s a kid’s book, but when we were at the bookstore, you told me about your little Christmas Eve fantasy,” he explains.
I know the one he’s talking about. I nod, my smile softening. “I remember. It’s perfect, Jasper. Really. Thank you.”
He nods, looking down at the illustration of Santa in the center of the cover so he doesn’t have to look at me. “I wanted to be the one to get it for you. I wanted you to have it so you could read it your babies someday.”
His voice is low, his gaze stuck on that cover. It’s a beautiful cover and it’s a lovely, personal, incredibly thoughtful gift… but why won’t he look at me?
It’s a really sweet gesture, one that I love more than he knows. I’m so distracted by how nice it is, it takes a moment before the details of what he just said fully register.
I guess it always does with me.
I was so swept up in the roaring fire and the twinkling Christmas tree, in the private gift exchange and the gorgeous man sitting next to me, I didn’t realize…
“My babies,” I repeat.
He doesn’t say anything.
“You said my babies, not… our babies.”
He still doesn’t say anything for several seconds that seem to stretch on forever, but finally he says, “They can’t be mine, Autumn.”
I sit back against the couch, feeling like he just knocked the wind out of me.
It was mere hours ago when I surrendered to the idea of throwing caution to the wind, of going all in on the wild card and taking a risk instead of playing it safe.
I’d leave my whole life behind me and run away to Chicago with him if he wanted me to.
And now…
Now I guess he’s telling me that he doesn’t.
I try to swallow past the knot in my throat. I try to breathe, but it’s harder than it should be. “I see.”
My voice sounds faint even to my own ears, so naturally Jasper notices.
He reaches over and takes my hand, commanding my attention without words.
A million different emotions swirl inside me like the start of a particularly devastating tornado, but still I meet his gaze.
What I see in his intense blue eyes incapacitates me even more. I think… I think this hurts him, too.
“I wish it could be me,” he says fervently, holding my hands between his much larger ones. “I do.”
Tears sting my eyes, then well up before I can stop them.
His words sound nice, but it feels like a hollow wish.
When Jasper wanted me that first night, he took me—even when I wasn’t willing.
When he wanted me in the shower, he took me again—even though I told him not to.
If he really wanted that life with me, if he really wanted me…
He’d take me.
Jasper lets go of one of my hands, bringing his up to cradle my face. “Look at me.”
I resent it a little, but my gaze shifts back to him.
It’s hardly fair of him to demand I look him in the eye while he breaks my heart, but maybe I shouldn’t have expected a man like Jasper to play fair.
“I’ve never been in love before,” he tells me.
His gaze holds mine in such a raw, aggressive way, like he’s being ripped to shreds by this emotional storm, too.
I want to flee. I want to get in out of the rain, but he demands I stay here with him, so I do.
“But I could fall in love with you. It’d be so easy… like breathing.”
I have to look away from him so I can blink away the tears. My chest feels like it’s caving in. Memories of last night assault me, giggling in bed, holding each other, kissing and touching, and…
“Then why?” I ask softly, not trusting my voice not to break if I speak any louder.
He drops his hand from my face, hanging his head as he draws his hand away from mine, too. “I don’t know that I can keep you safe, and I can’t put you in danger. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to you and I knew it was because of me.”
I sniffle, dashing tears from my face. “We talked about this. You said you could—”
“Autumn,” he interrupts, gently.
My gaze shifts back to him. His eyes glint with remorse I know is real, but I can feel the steel underneath. I know he won’t be moved, no matter what I say.
“You won’t,” I say more honestly. “You don’t even have to do it now, I wasn’t asking for that kind of commitment, but you won’t even consider that maybe down the road…?”
I feel myself starting to drift. The need to bargain with him, to talk him out of this and change his mind…
But I shouldn’t have to.
If I want him enough to take the risks I’m willing to take to be with him, he should want me enough to take a risk himself.
He’s not, and I’m done chasing men who only want me a little bit.
His silence says all I need to know, so I don’t argue anymore.
I nod slowly, then I stand. I leave the wrapping paper, but I take the book he bought me.
“Good night, Jasper. Merry Christmas.”
CHAPTER 24
JASPER
Like every Christmas in recent memory, I end this one drunk off my ass and all alone.
My own damn fault.
It’s the way it has to be, though.
After polishing off the very last of the top shelf whiskey Tom keeps stashed in his den, I plant the empty bottle on the floor in front of me and roll off the leather couch.
I stumble a little, but I catch myself before I fall flat on my face.
I deserve to fall on my fucking face for hurting Autumn. It killed me to let her go back to that bedroom alone, but I had to. I knew if I followed her, I’d try to ease her pain, and since I’m the one who caused it to begin with…
It was better I stayed away.
Better for her.
Maybe she’ll start to hate me, but that will be better for her than loving me would.
Only one of those can end up getting her killed.
I make my way down the stairs and glare at the Christmas tree as I walk past it. I’d like to hurl the damn thing out into the back yard, but I settle for scowling at it as I walk out of the room.
Tom’s wet bar is downstairs. I’m drunk enough, but what the hell? I stop and pour myself one more shot. I throw it back, but I’m so far gone, I can’t even feel the liquid in my mouth. I’m sure it’s supposed to burn as it makes its way down my throat, but the only twinges of pain I’m aware of aren’t physical ones.
Autumn.
If I had any decency, I’d sleep on the couch tonight and let her have the bed. We’re planning to leave in just a few hours, so we’ll be gone before anyone wakes up. They’d never know I didn’t sleep in the bedroom with her.
Doesn’t matter if they did, I guess. They’ll never see her again.
That hurts more than it should. I’m already surly as hell about it as I walk toward the bedroom, then my eye catches on that little red truck.
I walk over and snatch it off the shelf, glaring at it accusingly like it’s the toy’s fault it reminds me of her.
I carry it with me into the bedroom, but I have to stop to adjust to the dark. I figured she’d be asleep, but some part of me hoped she’d still be awake, too.
I close the door behind me and walk over to drop the little red truck into my duffel bag. I approach the bed quietly, my gaze seeking out her shape in the dark.
She’s curled up on her side of the bed, as far away from mine as she can get. Her back faces my side, and she’s got the blankets wrapped around herself in a cocoon, like she needs it to protect her from me.
She definitely needed protecting from me, but a goddamn blanket was never gonna cut it.
I should let her sleep. She probably hates me now. I saw the resignation on her tear-streaked face when she left me on the couch. However she felt about me this morning, it’s not how she feels about me now.
I should definitely leave her alone.
I should behave for once in my life, turn my ass around and go sleep on the couch.
I should, but I don’t.
Her body shifts as I climb onto the mattress. Even in sleep she tries to pull away from me, curling closer to the edge of the bed.
That irritates the living fuck out of me.
Sober, I’d possess more tact.
In my current state, I grab her shoulder and pull her over onto her back.
Autumn startles awake, bleary-eyed at first, disoriented for a few seconds after.
Her confusion clears when she looks up and sees me hovering over her.
Before she has a chance to respond, I climb on top of her, straddling her in case she has it in her mind to try and get away.
“Jasper, what are you doing?” she demands groggily.
What am I doing? I don’t fucking know. I know I wanted her to be awake with me for every one of our last hours together, and that’s where my thought process ended.
“What time is it?” she asks, trying to sit up.
I’m straddling her hips, so she doesn’t get far.
Her eyes narrow at me when she realizes I pinned her there on purpose. “Get off me.”
“I can’t sleep,” I tell her.
“Have you even tried?” She sits up a little and takes a whiff of me. “You’ve been drinking.”
“I have,” I verify.
“Perfect. You’re supposed to drive us back to Chicago in just a few hours.”
I ignore her comment. I don’t like it. I don’t like her tone, the way she uses irritation as a shield to try and make it seem like she doesn’t have fondness for me anymore.
“Don’t speak to me that way.”
Her eyes widen, a flash of white hot anger momentarily piercing her cloudy detachment. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not Brady or any of those other guys you fucked with. You can’t dismiss me like that.”
“I can do whatever I want,” she informs me, eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not yours, remember?”
I know it’s not a challenge, but it feels like one. I know she’s mad and hurt, I even know she has a right to be, but I’m so used to sweetness from those lips… I really fucking hate the venom.
I grab her jaw without thought.
Autumn gasps, her eyes widening. A flash of caution crosses her features, softening her eyes and everything else.
God, she’s so fucking pretty when she’s a little bit afraid.
I’d never hurt her, not really, but she looks up at me now like she doesn’t know that. Like all the words I’ve said to her don’t mean shit because of the ones I said tonight.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, then I swoop down and crash my lips against hers.
Autumn gasps against my mouth, trying to crawl back away from me. I don’t expect that. I expect her to kiss me back. I expect her to melt in my arms like she always does.
Why isn’t she melting?
It takes me a minute to adjust to my new position in her life, and I don’t fucking like that at all.
I’m not yours, she said.
Wrong.
She is mine. She always will be. Maybe I can’t keep her, and maybe that pisses her off, but it doesn’t change how I feel about her. It doesn’t mean I want her any less.
I know she still wants me too, she’s just mad right now.
She’s so mad she kicks at me, trying her best to unseat me.
So mad she fights back when I grab the hem of her T-shirt and start pulling it off her body.
So fucking mad when I roll her over on her stomach, writhing and fighting me every step of the way, and pin her little ass to the mattress.
I’m on top of her now and she’s naked beneath me, tummy down on the bed. She’s so mad she’d probably hit me if she could. She huffs, trying to rear back and shove me off her.
“What the hell, Jasper?”
I press down on her back, flattening her against the bed and lowering myself on top of her. She still tries to throw me off, but it’s easy to deflect her sorry attempts.
“I’m gonna have to teach you how to fight, snowflake. This isn’t gonna cut it. Suppose you really did want to get me off you—this isn’t the way to do it.”
“I do really want to get you off me,” she says, twisting uselessly.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’ve fought people genuinely trying to get free. This isn’t what it feels like.”
Autumn sighs like I’ve just said the most exasperating thing in the world. “You can’t compare my strength to that of full-grown men fighting for their lives, Jasper.”
I smile at how she says that—exasperated, sure, but still understanding of my fucked-up barometer. It feels more like it felt between us before when she’d comment about all the twisted things I do for work like it was normal. It makes me wanna kiss her.
I slide my hand around to the front of her neck, pulling her back gently so I can lean in and kiss the side of her face. I’m careful with her, reminding myself through the fog of alcohol to make sure I don’t hurt her. Typically when I’m fighting someone, I don’t care if they come to harm.
Typically I’m not kissing them, either.
Autumn turns her face away, still full of attitude, but I’m not having it. I remain gentle but firm as I pull her face back in my direction, holding her where I can reach her lips so I can lean down and kiss her.
Like a brat, she seals her lips together and refuses to kiss me back.
“Is that how it’s gonna be now, snowflake?” I murmur lowly, dragging my lips across the naked curve of her shoulder, kissing her every couple of inches.
I feel a shudder pass through her, but she pretends to be unaffected as she glares back at me. “Yeah, Jasper. That’s how it’s gonna be.”
“All right.” I nod slowly, dragging my hand down the curve of her bare back and watching her face. “I can work with that.”
She doesn’t ask what that means. I think she’s about to, but then my hand slides between her thighs and she gasps in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she asks, trying to kick at me again. “You don’t get to fuck me anymore, Jasper. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to kiss me. You don’t get to—”
Before she can finish telling me all the things I no longer have a right to do, I flip her over.
She tries to take advantage of me shifting positions to roll away, but I throw her down on her back, reclaiming my position on top of her.
She huffs, her pretty brow furrowing with annoyance as she looks up at me. “You’re drunk.”
