Chapter 13

The second the question is out of my mouth, I know I shouldn't have asked, but the problem with words is they move fast.

Jasper says, "What do you mean?"

I should pretend I was talking in my sleep and deny all knowledge in the morning.

Except I don't. I yank at the covers, and he has to move away to give me some slack, and I roll so I can see him, dimly lit from an exterior light mounted on the garage.

We lie on our sides, staring at each other for a while, before I say it again. "Who are you? Really? Because you start by introducing yourself as some kind of criminal sidekick, but you seem way more interested in keeping me alive than in what might be in all of this for you. And you've got this family and they love you, and I'm pretty sure you love them too, and it's all so normal. But if it's normal, then how are you... how can you do what you do? You know... henching?" I sigh. Just one thing in my life today needs to make sense, and I really hope it's this. "I don't understand."

He rolls again, onto his back, and I follow. We stare at the ceiling, and my cheeks heat because I shouldn't have said anything.

And finally, he says, "Lexi nearly died while I was in my second year of med school. She got sick—only a cold—but then it got worse and became pneumonia and she was in the hospital and she couldn't breathe on her own. She was full of tubes and connected to all these machines. My mom couldn't stop crying. It was awful. The doctors managed to save her, but they said we'd have to be careful because her lungs wouldn't be able to take it if she got sick like that again."

"I'm so sorry." I take his hand and squeeze it.

He turns his head to look at me. "I wanted to save her. I did all the research, read all the studies. And I heard about this clinical trial that was happening, a new kind of therapy, but they wouldn't take her. They said she was too sick for their study."

My throat tightens because the strain in his voice is obvious and because I am far too familiar with the tension that comes when you're trying to talk about a loved one who is suffering—or one who died—and you couldn't do anything about it. Ezekiel needed my help those first few months after Mother died, and I was too busy with my own grief to help.

Jasper says, "So I hacked the trial."

The tightness in my throat loosens so I can gasp in surprise. "What?"

"The drug was being developed at Wolfe Tech, and I thought if I broke into their system, I could get her on the list."

"And you did?" He said she was in a trial. And she looked pretty good earlier, laughing with her family.

But he shakes his head. "I got caught. Not as talented at the keyboard as I thought I was. And Walter Wolfe himself showed up outside school when I was on my way to class one day. Told me he knew what I'd done." His gaze drops to the sheets, and I hate that he's ashamed of this. I hate that I've judged him so harshly when I didn't have even half the information.

"Jasper," I say. I've still got his hand in mine and squeeze in silent thanks.

"Wolfe said I had two choices. Either he'd tell the college what I'd done and press charges. And I'd lose any chance of ever being a doctor and probably go to jail. And Lexi would die and I wouldn't be there for her."

His words bring by a multitude of old insecurities. I know too well what it is to be powerless. You try to do good things, but it's not enough, or you wind up making it worse.

"But you didn't go to jail," I say. I know how this is going to end, but I need to hear him say it so I finally have all the pieces of the puzzle.

Jasper clears his throat, almost like he's trying as hard as I am not to cry. "Or, Wolfe said, I could come work for him. He said I'd gotten further into his networks than anyone had in a while. If I quit school and worked for him, he'd never tell anyone. And he'd get Lexi into the trial, and all I had to do was help with his security and run errands and not ask too many questions."

I close my eyes, letting the dark take me for a minute, because here is the truth. And it's been obvious from the beginning, but now I have all the pieces and they fit together so clearly.

"So, you're not really a henchman," I say, sliding my fingers between his.

He laughs. "Oh, I am. It's been two years, and I have to tell myself it's worth it. Because Lexi is doing so good, and most of the time..." Jasper coughs again. "Most of the time the work's not too bad. No different than working in any other office. And when it's not... when I see things I'd rather not, I tell myself it's worth it because my sister is okay." The last part of the sentence is a little strangled. I can't imagine what it's been like for him. Good and evil are relative terms in his world. He's only ever wanted to do good, but somehow doing it has meant doing evil too. I've rigidly stuck to my principles and judged anyone who doesn't. Knowing what your principles are and compromising them every day has to be a hundred times worse.

"And your family doesn't know?" I ask quietly.

He shakes his head. "They think I'm doing my residency at the hospital. Makes it easy to explain the weird hours I keep. I moved out here so there's less chance of me slipping up and saying the wrong thing."

I take his hand more fully into mine. It's a good hand. Strong, solid bones. It shakes a little, but he settles the longer we lie there like that.

"I'm sorry for picking fights," I say.

His thumb brushes over my knuckles. "It's okay. I'm not proud of it, but it's what my family needs. Hopefully someday I'll find a way to get out, and they won't ever have to hear what I did."

Him getting out of Wolfe's clutches sounds about as likely as us getting out of this loop. Worse, in some ways, because he'll have to do it alone. No one will know either before and after and those who do find out may never fully be able to understand, just like I didn't.

"My mother never left a lot of room for gray areas when I was growing up," I say, even though it hurts to talk about her. But I want him to understand. Maybe I want him to forgive me. "Good was good, bad was bad. There was no ambiguity, no room for things like sick sisters and tough decisions. The tough decision was following the right path, no matter the cost."

He laughs. "My best friend growing up had parents like that."

My turn to laugh. "I doubt that."

"No." He rolls so he can brush his free hand along my cheek. "You're not the first kid to grow up in some screwed-up religious family who thinks they have a monopoly on morality."

I hear his words but need another moment before I understand them. And, oh. Yeah, I guess that's one possible explanation. Why would he assume my mother fought crime and had superpowers when it's easier to assume she was some hardline Christian?

And I should tell him the truth. He's told me as much, so it's only fair. But I can't. I've held the secret of our identity my whole life. There's no gray area. No acceptable reason to share.

I can't give him that, so I give him something else, something I've been wanting too since we got here.

I kiss him. I close the last few inches between us until our lips meet, and from there it's easy. The hand on my face tips my jaw up so we fit together just right. His lips are cool under mine, and unlike before, with Leo coming up the hall, there's no hurry here, so we take our time.

"Morgan." He slides under the blankets with me. I bury my face in his neck. I really do like the way he smells, and now it's all around me. On him, on the sheets, on me, where I'm wearing his clothes.

I haven't touched anyone like this in a long time, and I'm tired. Tired of keeping secrets, tired of being strong. More than anything, I'm tired of being alone. Jasper's here and he's not the person I thought he was, and it's the best news I've heard all day.

He groans as I suck on the hinge of his jaw, and our legs tangle together. His hand goes to my hip, and I remember the feeling of it there, fingers pressing into my thighs as he held me in place as Leo stomped up the hall. I'd wanted him then, but it wasn't the right time.

Now would be okay, though.

"Morgan," he says again, his mouth chasing mine as I get to know him a little better. His fingers slide under my—his—shirt, and I jerk at the sensation. "Are you okay with this?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "I mean, yes. Yes, I'm okay with it. I'm not sure it's a good idea, but..."

He laughs, mouth spreading wide against mine. "If it's a bad idea, we can try again tomorrow."

I ignore the implication. We both know it's there. He's not talking about the real tomorrow. He's talking about ours. The one where something happens—a freak tornado, or the floor gives way and I get crushed as we tumble into the garage below—and I die, and we have to start all over again.

But as Jasper runs his fingers down my spine, I think maybe we'll be okay. Maybe this is all we needed to do. If we tell each other our deepest secrets, maybe the spell will be broken?

Though if that's the case, there are some things I have to say, but it's so tempting not to and go with what we're feeling right now.

"Jasper, wait." I put a palm on his chest, and he freezes instantly.

"What? Is something wrong?"

This is a bad idea. We should stick with the kissing. But he was honest with me, and I should do the same. It's about trust, and I want to trust him so very much.

"I need to tell you," I say, "about my mother. About me. It's—" It's hard is what it is. The words are all jamming up in my throat.

"It's okay," he says, mouth coming to mine again, tongue flicking over my lower lip. "Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me now."

I don't have to, but I should.

Except then the decision is made for me when the apartment door bursts open and six men in black masks and carrying guns burst into the room.

I put my hands up in some old defensive reflex the way my mother used to when she needed to conjure up a ball of living flame and blast the bad guys. She taught me to do the same, even though nothing ever happened. No flame. No ice. For a second, I nearly feel a wave of cool power wash over me like I used to hope it would, but it's a phantom sensation and there's nothing there. Before I can make a complete fool of myself, Jasper's got one arm around me and he's pulling me behind him.

"What the hell?" he shouts, but that's all he gets to say before the men are on us and we're wrestled out of bed and down to the ground. My arms are wrenched painfully behind my back.

"Let go of me!"

"Leave him alone," Jasper says.

"Don't be a dick and this doesn't have to hurt," the man over Jasper says, planting his knee in Jasper's back.

"Leave now and you won't have to apologize later," Jasper sneers, but his words only earn him a boot to the face, clipping his chin and jerking his head back.

"No!" I shout.

Jasper spits blood on the carpet. "Another mistake. You don't know who I work for."

The man on his back laughs. "Of course we do, Jasper. Who do you think sent us?"

"What?" Jasper twists his head around, only to have it shoved back to the floor.

"You've been poking around places you shouldn't," someone says before I'm pulled to my feet. My hands have been bound behind my back, and something tight like a zip tie digs into my wrists.

Another man, taller than the others, is standing by the door. He chuckles once. "Mr. Wolfe would like a word with you and your friend here."

Then a hood is pulled over my head, and I don't see anything else for a while.