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"I was quiet, but I was not blind."
-Jane Austen
Minutes, maybe hours later I awoke to three voices talking in the kitchen in low tones. I couldn't make out what was being said but I could tell that Charlotte was trying to soothe someone. A chair scraped loudly as someone got up and walked out, the footsteps paused at the living room door for a few heartbeats, then kept going.
The remaining voices made their way closer until they were right outside, going back and forth in whispered yells.
"He is going to stay in the state he's in if she doesn't go talk to him!" the man insisted.
That must have been Peter, they were arguing about Jasper and I.
"She is probably terrified of him right now and needs a little space first," she rebutted "you saw his office!"
That sounded bad, really bad. I couldn't help but hope my chair survived. I'd lay on the floor all day before I sat back on the stool until this eased up.
"Yes, I saw the office but you should have seen him. Then you should have heard him when he came back to himself. He doesn't know which one to be more wrecked about," Peter pleaded with her.
I let my thoughts roll around for a few minutes. My mental landscape felt far more solid now than it had earlier.
Now that that was established I had a choice. Either I could lie here and go back to sleep, or I could get up and see what the hell was going on.
That was a tough decision. Getting up was certainly going to hurt if my memory of lying back down was accurate. Charlotte had promised a muscle relaxer though and I was going to have to get up sometime anyway.
Up I went, although much slower than anticipated. I was sore pretty much everywhere from the middle of my back down and my shoulders. It was a thousand wonders I hadn't nailed my head on each of the steps I'd fallen down. Walking, I quickly found, was a chore. Each step flexed aching muscles and by the time I'd made it to the doorway I had decided that the floor would actually be a perfectly fine spot to lay and not move again. By this time though I'd already been spotted.
"Bella! Are you ok?" Charlotte asked.
Apparently I'd either slept a really long time or not much at all. Gauging from the lack of shadows on the floor I'd slept the rest of the day.
"Just sore, and probably really bruised. What time is it?" I asked, rubbing my face and wishing for a hot tub to boil myself in.
"Just after nine. We were going to wake you earlier but Jasper told us to let you sleep," Peter said, watching me closely.
"I guess I needed it…" I rubbed at my arms with my palms before looking him square in the eye, "Peter, what happened?"
He blinked, taking a moment. I guess he was expecting me to flinch at Jasper's name or something.
"I think you'd better ask him, Bella. He thinks you're terrified of him now… Well, more terrified of him anyway," he said.
Peter was right, I was going to have to talk to Jasper. Did I think he was evil? Yes, because, well, here I was. Was I afraid of him? I used to be. Now that I'd seen some of the actual person under the Person Suit, I wasn't so much. He was just a man. Powerful, yes. Deadly, absolutely. Terrifying, when he wanted to be. I had something to explain to Peter.
"He can be frightening when he wants to be but this isn't a one off response. His natural demeanor is calm, even when he's angry, and that's all I know him to be. I've never heard him raise his voice let alone have a reaction like that. The men in my life, Phil, Charlie, Carlisle, they were all calm people and if they yelled it was to yell over noise or make up for distance. I'm sure they had yelled plenty when getting into arguments and fights and whatnot but there was ever very little reason to for things that I was present for. Phil and Renee were still in their honeymoon stage when I moved to Forks, plus he was gone most of the time. There, it was just Charlie and I, and I was adult enough for him to talk to me like one, even when I was being stubborn and we were disagreeing. Carlisle was pacifistic. I witnessed him yell one time, and when he did I thought brimstone was about to rain down. I fled then too," I said.
That was also the day I thought Edward was going to get his ass kicked by his father. I didn't mention the motorcycle incident that Jake and I got caught in. Charlie didn't yell, but rather turned an interesting shade of chartreuse and stuttered through a few words before going to have a drink. I had been grounded for a while after that. Of course I'd heard other men yell but they hadn't set a previous pattern like mine did for me to react to when they broke their mold.
He let this percolate before nodding.
"Where is he?" I asked. May as well get this over.
"In the blue room. But Bella, you don't have to do this right now. You can go lie back down if you want," Charlotte reassured me.
From how I had reacted earlier I'm sure she thought I was going to have another hysteric episode at any second. Admittedly, it was possible.
"I appreciate it Charlotte, I'll be fine," I hoped.
I squeezed her hands before hobbling past the both of them. The whispered argument resumed and moved to another room.
The door handle was cold to the touch, much like the pendant had been when it first touched my chest earlier in the day. A deep breath in, then out slowly, and I turned the knob.
The door opened as silently as ever. I wasn't sure what I had expected but it wasn't for him to be sitting, curled up in the seat I considered to be his. His cheek supported by his fist, his eyes glued to his lap. He looked like someone had ruined his life. On the coffee table was an open bottle of bourbon with a couple of inches missing.
He was gone to the point that he didn't even look up when I moved in front of him. It wasn't until I reached out to touch his hair that his head shot up, mouth opened and eyes stern like he was expecting Peter to be there, ready to continue the kitchen conversation. It was would have been comical if it hadn't been so sad. He jerked back, horrified. I let my hand drop and clasp the other.
Human, I thought as his facial expression morphed from anger to horror to sadness. I had not seen this much emotion from him before. He was either amiable, amused, angry or focused. He returned to staring at his lap.
This was not the man I had come to know over the past several months. Although neither was the other I had encountered yesterday evening in this very room. Was he the person I had come to know? Was he the person I saw last night? Was he the man in front of me, clearly expressing remorse and struggling for something to say? Of course he could be all of them but which was persona or lesser facets and which was the predominant?
As lost as I was with what to do now I tried to think of what I would do if it were Edward or Jake sitting there.
The answer came easy.
I followed my original intent and reached out, stroking his hair. It was soft, thick. Lightning fast, and enough to give me heart failure all over again, he reached up to grasp my wrist. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears in the momentary pause where it seemed he was making up his mind before he moved it to his face. He held my hand against his cheek and closed his eyes. I let my thumb stroke along his skin.
"What happened?" I whispered.
He shuddered, clenching his jaw to regain his strict control.
"This morning I received a phone call, presumably from the people that had sent the scouts. They said they had taken Rosalie and Emmett after they got back to the docks… in Progreso" another tremor slammed through him. He held his breath, fighting himself and clenching his teeth again, "They're not answering their phones, Peter can't track them."
Rosalie was his only remaining family, so that's what Peter meant by him being destroyed. I tried imaging it if it was Charlie or Edward or Jake but couldn't fathom the thought. More like couldn't stand it, so I locked it into the back of my mind with all the other things I couldn't actually stand to think about anymore.
I stepped closer, and resumed the petting of his hair with my other hand.
What would you do for them? I asked myself again.
And it was simple.
All it took was a small tug, not even that really, and he was sliding forward to the edge of his seat. His arms slid around my hips and thighs and pressing his face against my stomach. The majority of the pressure was against my stomach and he had ahold of the back of my dress more than anything else. I could feel his inner thighs, just barely touching the outsides of mine. Charlotte must have told him what happened since he was avoiding the places of major damage.
This must be what an impending implosion looks like.
If Rose died I wasn't sure what would happen but I knew it wouldn't be good. A wrecked office was only the beginning. I wouldn't put it past him to burn down the house or Monterrey. Or go on a killing spree and annihilate anyone who even thought about having a tertiary connection to anyone involved, and then burn down Monterrey. Whatever happened it would be bad, for everybody.
When he shuddered again I began shushing him, stroking the back of his head.
"It's going to be ok, you're going to get her back, if they have them at all," I said soothingly.
I continued my ministrations for a while and bit by bit, he relaxed and his breathing evened out. He eventually released my dress and pulled away, sliding back into his seat. He caught my hand on the way though and gently guided me to sit next to him. He was under enough stress, so I sat closer than I normally would, rubbing one hand along his shoulder. He turned, appraising me still with sad eyes.
"I never should have frightened you like that, earlier. And for that I am sorrier than you will ever know. I could have seriously hurt you or further traumatized you more than what I already have. You did nothing to deserve any of that. I'm glad you got out when you did. Even if you did hit me with Crime and Punishment on the way," he said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips before it was gone.
Oh yay, I'd nailed him with a thick hardback book. That meant I was getting punished.
"Did I hurt you?" my free had begun fidgeting with my dress as I asked.
"I hurt myself more than you could have by throwing a book, Isabella," he said, extending his right hand, palm down.
Across the back were several cuts, a couple stitched, the rest glued. I had a feeling this was only an example rather than the whole of the damage.
"How bad was it?" I ventured.
Maybe I wasn't getting the belt after all.
"Well, I have to have a few things in there replaced. Several really. About the only thing that went unscathed was your chair," he admitted.
"So, what do we do now?" I asked, nauseated at the possibilities.
"I've already set several things in motion while you were resting. Peter has come up with this program on the fly that will continually search for Rose and Emmett's cell phones. If or when it finally alerts, the program will notify Peter and we can call them and make plans if they answer," he explained.
It didn't sound good but at least we weren't going out and neither was he wasn't leaving. As much as I despised having him around, him being here increased his likelihood of safety, which kept my survival in the probable category.
"Where did they go?" I asked.
"Scorpion Reef, due north of Progreso. They go out there on their yacht for a few weeks at a time every once in a while. An isolated vacation. They pay off the government enough for them to give them a pass whenever and prohibit most others from going at the same time. That way there may be a few people, but it makes sure it they get all the privacy they can take. They scuba dive and snorkel all around the reef, live on the beach and drink for a couple of weeks. Enjoy being away from everything and everybody. They turn their phones off and toss them in a container. They only turn them back on when they're on the way back. It's possible they're still out there. Sometimes they forget what day it is or how long they've been gone or just decide to extend their vacation," he explained.
It was little effort to imagine myself on the beach somewhere with a bottle of tequila, nobody around for a hundred miles and a stack of books next to my chair.
"I hope they're still out there," I said quietly.
"Me too, Isabella, me too," he murmured.
I got up and fixed him a lowball glass of ice, bringing it over and pouring him a couple of inches before handing it to him.
I was still hobbling some and now that he was paying attention again he grew concerned.
"I imagine you're sore," he said, sadness back in his eyes again.
He blamed himself for my fall apparently. It was only a matter of time really with my track record.
"Yeah, I'm sure it'll go away in a couple of days though. It wouldn't be the first time I've fallen down stairs, nor the worst," I said.
"I can give you something for it, if you'd like," he said, glancing at me out the corner of his eye.
That look had mischief written all over it. I'd received it far too much from Jacob and Edward to not recognize it when I saw it. My instincts said to be wary.
"It's not going to knock me out this time is it?" I asked, mirroring him.
"Not unless that's what you want. I have an assortment of things on hand. Mainly it'll just relax you and take the pain away," he explained.
That sounded tempting, but I wasn't really into taking sketchy drugs from anybody.
"Nah, I try to stay away from the pharmaceuticals. Thank you though," I said, playing with my fingers.
"I also have some high quality smoke," he offered.
"Pot?" I asked, surprised.
I didn't take him as a smoker. I also didn't take him as someone who allowed drugs to be in his house at all. He seemed too strict for something like that.
He nodded, "Peter said that I was going to learn to relax one way or another and for my birthday last year he delivered half a brick of the stuff, a pipe, a bong and a tray of brownies. So I surrendered and smoke occasionally. Do you?" he asked. He looked intrigued now.
"I've tried it a couple of times, but hadn't really had the time to regularly do it, nor the resources to devote to the habit. I only ever tried a pipe and coughed like mad. Plus my Dad is a cop, which makes me more averse to it. If he'd have ever came to my apartment and found it, he would have hauled me straight back to Forks and locked me in the Cullens' basement," I explained.
Esme would probably be agreeable. Something told me that Carlisle wouldn't so much be though. He might have busted me out.
There were a lot of lines I pushed, just not that one.
He nodded, then reached down and pulled a small wooden box out from the small space under the couch.
"If you want some I can shotgun it to you," he offered "It won't be so bad that way."
I pondered it and shrugged. Why not? I wasn't sure what shotgunning was but surely it couldn't be bad. Maybe it was just inhaling a lot real quick. I'd heard the term tossed around before but had paid it little mind.
"Sure, may as well," I answered.
He was already grinding up some of the buds, merely nodding, then got his pipe loaded and lit up. He took the first couple hits off of it, blowing a ton of smoke out of his nose and making me think of a dragon. Fire breathing and terrifying when need be? The ability to be crafty, charming, possessive and destructive? Yes to all of the above. It was probably his spirit animal.
Maybe it was similar to hotboxing. I knew what that was but shouldn't we be in a car or small bathroom or something?
Then he reloaded and took a big hit, setting the pipe down and turning to me as he held it in. He threaded his fingers through my hair and leaned in, gently pulling me forward to meet him. My mouth fell open, about to ask him what the hell he was doing. He said he wasn't going to force me into anything and getting high was no excuse to go back on that! Even if it was just a kiss. About the time I was sucking in an alarmed breath to stutter out my panic, he came not even a millimeter shy of touching my open mouth with his, exhaling all his smoke into my inhaling mouth.
Suddenly, it was clear what the term meant and my ignorance had almost earned me heart failure. I recovered enough to suck most of it in and hold it. Not being used to it, I wasn't able to hold on to it long and ended up coughing the smoke back out fairly quickly. He chuckled at me and handed me the glass of bourbon I'd made for him.
Well, it was wet, I thought as I took a careful drink. It certainly wasn't as bad after the smoke incident but it still burned all the way down. From the face I apparently made, he got the idea that it wasn't a favorite and got up to make me a rum and coke.
"I'm guessing you didn't know exactly what I had meant when I said shotgun. Forgive me, but your confusion was amusing," he said, snickering.
I rolled my eyes, "Not exactly, I thought it was like hotboxing. You learn new things every day I suppose."
It didn't take long for the buzz to set in. Whatever it was Jasper had, it was good but not too strong. Not that I knew much about it aside from what I'd heard friends talk about. Billy grew on the sly for medical purposes and Charlie had always looked the other way. He'd always worried we'd get into it when we got older but Billy had grown just enough for himself and nobody wanted to put him in a position of discomfort due to a shortage. When I left for school, Sam and Emily had been talking about getting a producer and a processor licenses in order to up employment and quality of life on the rez. They also figured that legal access to pot at a reasonable price would cut down on the local alcoholism.
I hadn't thought of that again until now. It made me wonder how everything worked out. Maybe one day I could check up on things somehow.
He was watching me, I realized suddenly. So, emboldened a bit in my inebriation, I watched him back.
"Feeling any better?" he asked.
I shifted some, and found things to be better than expected. Not pain free but it had helped a lot.
"Yes, thank you. I can still feel it of course but it's much less intense," I said, grateful, "Are you?"
"Some, yes," he shrugged.
We were back to watching each other. Now that he saw that I wasn't back to spitting venom at him immediately he seemed less despondent. Certainly better than when I'd first came in.
It was still so odd to sit down and talk with him. He was quiet by nature, stoic and sometimes broody. Ok, often times broody. Or maybe he just seemed so because he was actually an introvert when he wasn't working. I didn't know but now felt like a good time to ask some things and put his claim to the test. We were both high and having some drinks, that should be enough social lubricant.
"How long have I been here?" I asked without preamble.
His mood seemed to shift to resigned and he became serious once more. He had been expecting this line of questioning, probably yesterday.
"Nine months, roughly," he said.
I couldn't decide whether that seemed too long or too short. It was what it was, I supposed. I was working up the nerve for the big question when he spoke again.
"Be careful what you ask. Not because of my reaction, but make sure you really want to know the answer," he advised.
That wasn't ominous at all. It didn't deter me though.
"Why did you take me?" I asked, staring him in the eye.
He didn't waiver or flinch. Instead he gave a soundless sigh before beginning.
"Do you remember when your father made a big drugs and weapons bust? Put several people in prison?" he queried.
The look on my face answered for me.
"They were my men and caravan. The ones that were ahead got on through before he'd made the bust, they caught the rest behind them though before they could divert. I was angry. I was angry and personal retaliation was expected. So I came to Forks myself and checked into a motel. I did recon on the area and went to your house to watch for a while. The last night I was there I was going to deal with the situation. Then I saw you through my scope," he paused, reliving the memory, "Eleazer taught me that to kill a man in that sort of situation was too easy, too light. To take or destroy something precious was a more appropriate way to do things. Death provides no learning, no real consequence to the person themselves. Just a waste of life. You know the rest," he explained.
It felt like something had hit me hard. Harder than my landing at the bottom of the stairs. Harder than when Edward had accidentally knocked me out with the ball during a family baseball game. To his credit he hadn't been cocky or obnoxious. Very 'just the facts ma'am'. That should probably piss me off in some fashion but it didn't currently in my inebriated state.
"So it was my life for Charlie's," I said, staring at the glass in my hands.
"Essentially," he sighed.
That changed everything.
In the case of my life for his, I would have made this choice willingly. Forks needed Charlie, Billy and Jake needed Charlie, the Cullens needed him too. In my mind, I was the expendable in this situation. As long as he was safe and alive, I decided, I would do whatever I had to to survive even if it meant never seeing him again. Knowing he wasn't alone made the pain more bearable. I knew with all my heart that everyone was looking after him, just as they had when Renee had run off with me.
This didn't make me happier by any means but it made it livable. I had picked the right time to try to go along and get along. It was my only choice now if I wanted life to stay on the upward trend of improving. It would never be what I would have chosen but I was going to have some sort of happiness somehow. I had the feeling if I committed suicide my body would end up going back to Charlie, probably bit by bit to torment him even more, so that was definitely out. Better he deal with it now and let that wound heal.
I tipped my glass back and drank the rest of it in one go. When I reached for his glass he pulled it back.
"Easy, the goal isn't to get sick. Just sit tight," he said.
It was good that he wasn't gloating yet or being a prick because I would probably try to smack him or something equally stupid. He was highly capable of both.
He'd done one thing however, and that was keep his word. He answered me honestly, just as he said he would. Taunting or antagonizing me would go against his plan of building bridges together. Me attacking him would collapse my plan and my progress.
He handed me another glass of the same and kept an eye on me as I drank slowly. When he was satisfied that I was going to listen he hit the pipe again. When he turned with his lungs full of smoke I was leaning in towards him. He did the same thing as last time, cupping my skull to keep me steady and not touching me. It was easier this time to hold the smoke in a little longer. I felt my body relax further, the pain lessening, still there but only just. As long as I didn't move too much.
"What if you hadn't come?" I asked.
He didn't look at me, running his thumb across the engraving of the silver lighter.
"Someone else would have and most likely brutally killed you both. I wasn't the only person affected. The different mafias have learned to work together to circumvent the law. We all still mind our own business for the most part unless we do things that benefit us both. They stay in their neighborhoods and we stay in ours, like polite neighbors. The heads have quarterly meetings to discuss new laws and coordinate. It's not unusual for them to pool funds to give to a lobbyist to buy off enough people to vote against laws unfavorable to them. Anyway, if it hadn't been me it would have been someone else that had been affected. I was given first choice because it was more of a blow against me. I made my choice, wrote a report that was presented that quarter and it was deemed acceptable," he explained, draining the last bit of his drink.
In other words I was lucky in a very fucked up fashion. Something crossed my mind though.
"Charlie made that bust when I was in high school. I was only a little while away from my degree when you took me," I said, eyes back on his.
"You would have already graduated if you had either stuck with your original major or started your program from the get go," he commented idly.
I rolled my eyes, "I could have done several things with an English degree and the classes were great but I got a taste of it by doing some side work for an editor and I decided on something else pretty quickly," he opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off, "My mother is the teacher, not I."
I looked at him expectantly. He knew what I wanted to know.
"I waited because I wanted you away from Forks for one. Also to get at least some life experience and I wanted you to graduate. People began to get impatient, especially the Italians," he said, watching me.
That stopped all my thoughts in their tracks. My neighbors that had moved in a few months prior were Italian.
"Demetri and Felix…" I choked out.
"Felix is actually from Greece, but yes they're both with the Italian mob. I was sent some photos a few months after I got a letter from Aro, inquiring about my plans and timeline," he said.
From the set of his mouth he looked bitter over that.
"What were they of?" I asked, slowly and with dread.
I knew, of course but I trusted him to give detail.
"One was through your window, you were reading a book and eating. One was of you walking to class with Newton, another was of you leaving the gym…" he hesitated saying anymore.
"Was that all?" I asked.
"No," he said, clenching his jaw afterwards.
That was a bad sign.
"What were in the other ones?" I asked cautiously.
He sighed again, forcing the air out his nose, "One was of you after you'd come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and the last one… The last one was of you sleeping in your bed. The bathroom shot was probably taken from your closet and the last one was from next to your nightstand."
He was pissed, not at me though. I was freaked out. Someone had been inside my apartment, had stood next to me while I slept and photographed me in my most private moments. My brain started to take a left turn to wonder if I'd inadvertently given a show after I got in bed that night but I shut it down. If I did then it didn't matter because I couldn't change it. If he was ever lewd to me should we ever cross paths I was sure Jasper would take care of it if he hadn't already.
"After I received the pictures I called the twins and told them to roll. They had been in Vegas for a week and were on the way back. They...delivered a message to the Italians the night before they took you. Tracked them down to a bar and jacked them up pretty good. That was no skin off of their nose. Some sort of family drama that happened back in the 40's during World War two between the Russian mafia and the Italian mafia. They're really removed from it because of time but it's a Hatfield and McCoy's sort of thing, they hate each other," Jasper said, shaking his head.
This gave me something else to think about.
"Wait, I thought you said they worked together?" I asked, confused.
"They do, I'm referring to the twins and their direct lineage specifically. Their family is hated by the Italians because they won't let things die. Everyone outside of their parents and living grandparents have let it go. So they've essentially been assigned to me here in Mexico because I keep them out of trouble. With Balthazar and his brother they get into too much shit," he explained.
That distracted me enough from the thoughts of the photos. It didn't surprise me though that they were a pair of little hellraisers. If anything it was amusing, not to mention satisfying to hear that my poser neighbors got their asses kicked.
A more sobering thought entered my brain.
"I'm never going home am I?" I asked, forlornly.
"It's doubtful. The wheels of fate turned with that traffic stop. Unless the Italians die off suddenly or decide to retreat back to Italy and become hermits. Even then I would have to get permission or the original plans would go through. You should know how the Mafia is. If you expose us you're dead," he said.
He seemed sympathetic, to an extent.
"Keep the secret," I sighed.
I had already known, I just needed to hear it out loud I supposed.
He nodded, "Exactly. There's a reason the percentage of people who leave are microscopic. Many retire but they're never really out."
I had another question I wanted to ask but at the same time, didn't want to ask it. I worried my lip between sips, glanced at him and then away.
His patience wasn't infinite.
"Ask," he said.
I started and stopped, then again before letting out a great sigh, "Why didn't you just kill us both?"
There it was.
His eyebrow cocked high.
"Do you want me to kill you both?" he asked, dead serious.
"No! I just, I don't understand why you'd want me here," I said, mumbling the last part.
He wasn't deaf. More like on level with a bat.
"When I saw you, I knew there was something about you. Something that drew me to you. So I chose the better option between the two," he said.
He looked like he was hoping I'd get off this line of questioning. I wouldn't want to have to explain something like that either so I accepted it. Maybe at some later date he'd be more forthcoming all on his own. I doubted it but if you'd told me eight months ago we'd be having drinks and sharing pot I'd told you that you were out of your fucking mind.
This didn't change the fact that I had a strong resentment of him for what he'd done to me thus far. I didn't appreciate being a toy or an experiment. My high was wearing off, my agitation was rising again like it did when I was sober. I took a long drink and finished off the glass.
There, that should help.
We shared another bowl and I had a thought that made me want to give myself a lobotomy. He was right there, maybe a millimeter away. I could lean forward and close the hair's breadth between us and see what he tasted like. I hadn't been kissed in nearly a year and being intoxicated made me think stupid things about this Lucifer-beautiful man.
I leaned back and put my feet up on the coffee table next to my glass.
"This has been the longest day," I muttered rubbing my hands across my face.
"Tell me about it," he grumbled, slouching down in his own seat.
Time passed in peaceful, stoned quiet. Right when I was ready to drop back off Jasper looked at his watch.
"It's early but both of us could probably benefit from some sleep," he said, slowly climbing to his feet.
He extended his hand to me, palm up as always. And as always I placed mine into it and let him haul me to my feet. He picked the box up and led me upstairs, his hand a ghost at my back. I could tell that it was at the small of my back from him having bumped his hand into it once on accident.
When we got into our room I looked at the bed so longingly. I was mentally and physically, not to mention emotionally exhausted.
Before I was able to go collapse, I had to brush my teeth and wash my face first. I deviated my course from the bed to the bathroom. I sped through my evening routine and changed into some pajamas. Padding out I saw that he was in his side of the bed, texting away like mad. That didn't seem good. I made my way on around to my side and slid in. I stretched out to not quite a sprawl, but close.
Finally he finished his rapid fire texting and laid down as well.
I didn't know how it had happened but his hand brushed against mine as he was rolling over onto his stomach to get comfortable. I almost wanted to say 'ouch!' out loud but the moment had already come and gone. I simply pulled my hand back to get further out of his comfort zone. It felt like static electricity and then some. I was cautious not to touch him again.
I woke up one time during the night and it was to see him lighting up a bowl in the open bathroom door. I drifted off pretty quick before I could ask for more and was sucked into strange dreams.
That night I dreamed I walked behind Jasper, carrying his rifle with its powerful, heavy scope into the woods. Like a devotee, I followed along behind him without complaint. I couldn't remember doing anything else except for endlessly following him through dense green foliage for what seemed like forever. Then right as we reached our destination darkness crashed over my mental scenes like a tidal wave and swallowed me up into true rest.