March
Jasper was still in the city when she got home from school. She much preferred the days when he picked her up from school in the Audi or when he was waiting for her in the backseat of the town car Edwin drove. The only good thing about Jasper not being home yet was that she got the snack Ada had no doubt made her all to herself.
Today, it was apple nachos and she grabbed the entire plate and turned to head toward the den. Not that she didn’t have homework, but she needed a little break before she started. Besides, it wasn’t homework hours yet. Yeah, homework hours were eye-roll inducing, but—and she would never in a zillion years admit this to Jasper—they’d been helpful. Rules, clear expectations, consequences . . . they might make her bridle, but at the end of the day she was glad they were there. They’d done as Jasper had said they would do, and freed up her head for other things. Like snacks.
She snagged an apple slice off the plate and had taken a bite when she noticed a note Ada had left by the side of the plate.
You might want to go to your room before you go watch TV. Just a thought.
Her room? Why would she— Oh. It was college letter season and a few of her classmates had already gotten news—good and bad. Some of them were obsessively logging into admissions websites, but she’d wanted to do it the old school way: fat envelope, skinny envelope. Ada always put her mail on her desk, and since she wasn’t expecting anything else, that was likely it.
Keyne shoved the rest of the apple slice in her mouth and headed down the hall, took a breath before she crossed the threshold into her room. Maybe she should wait for Jasper. But, no. If it was bad news, she wanted to get her reaction smoothed over before he got home. And to be honest, she couldn’t get as worked up about college as her classmates were.
It was just where she would spend the next four years of her life, and then . . . then she didn’t know what. A hazard of taking one day at a time was that she didn’t care all that much about the future. She was alive, that was good, and that’s about where it ended. But that’s not where it ended for Jasper. He cared far more about where she went to college, and indeed about her going to college at all.
“You’re going,” he’d said when she made a half-assed attempt at getting out of it. Of course she’d end up going, because like the gym, it was something Jasper thought was important and when he set his mind to something, there was no one and nothing that could change his mind. Besides, it wasn’t like he was unreasonable. He’d only prodded her to reconsider when she’d declared she’d only look at schools within two hours of Havenwood.
“Fine, but that’s two hours with no traffic.” He hadn’t even looked up from the crossword he was finishing while she was leafing through admissions catalogues. Which had meant he’d missed the tongue she’d stuck out at him.
But now there was a stack of mail on her desk, and even from across the room, she thought there was at least one big envelope, maybe two. That wouldn’t be so bad.
She willed herself across the carpet, shoving another apple slice in her mouth on the way. When she got to her desk, she closed her eyes and reached for a packet, picking it up to open it without looking at the return address. Not the most effective way to go about it, but it would do.
Once she’d opened it, there was a sheaf of paper in her hands, and unless the college were abnormally cruel, it was unlikely that every page of the dozens in there said “Suck it, loser.” So she cracked open an eye and had to turn the whole thing over because she was looking at a blank page, but when she did . . .
Yale. Yale had said yes to her, and for a second, her heart couldn’t take it. That’s where her parents had met, and where they’d met the Anderssons, too. That’s where Jasper had gone, where she and Gavin had planned to go. But they’d planned to go together, and the idea of being there in New Haven without him, without them . . . It felt like someone was reaching into her chest and pulling her heart into little pieces, putting each bit in a basket. You go in heartbreak, you go in delight, you go in anguish, you go in excitement, you go in grief, and you go in hope.
How could she? But then again, how could she not? There were a couple of other thick packets and a slim envelope, but she didn’t care so much about those. What would Jasper say? She closed her eyes and crunched another apple slice, hoping it would be helpful but strangely apple nachos proved to be more delicious than functional.
***
When he got home, he remembered Ada had the night off, which meant he was on for dinner. He’d never made cooking a priority, so Ada’s nights off meant leftovers, going out, or a bowl of cereal if he was beat. Since Keyne had shown up, though, he’d made more of an effort. Spaghetti and meatballs, omelets, and chicken Caesar salad weren’t going to win him the James Beard, but it was better than a box of mac and cheese. And for tonight, he’d bothered to look up a recipe.
He shrugged off his coat as he went through the mudroom, and when he opened the door, he practically thwacked Keyne with it. Had she just been standing there, waiting for him? He was a little late, but . . .
Before he could ask her if everything was okay, she thrust a piece of paper into his face. Dark blue lettering in the upper corner and the word “Congratulations” were the only things he caught before taking the sheet in hand and holding it far away from his face to read.
Yale. She’d gotten into Yale.
A smile tried to spread across his face, but this was complicated. He wanted her to make up her own mind, not have her decision or her feelings colored by his own. On his end, there was delight and pride, with regret and sorrow coming in a distant second place. Gavin would never go to college. He’d never walk the campus that Jasper and their parents had, never be part of that legacy. But Keyne could. If she wanted to be.
His features carefully blank, he regarded her standing before him, hands clutched together at her waist. “That’s wonderful news, sweetheart.”
Keyne’s face screwed up into annoyed disappointment. “That’s it? I get into Yale, and that’s all I get?”
She snatched the paper back, looked at it, her eyes glistening, before her gaze met his again, brimming over with beseeching want. “I thought you’d be happy for me, I thought you’d want me to go. Even if you didn’t . . . it makes me feel closer to them, even though they’re gone.”
Rolling her lips between her teeth, she bit down until they were white, and he shut his eyes just as tightly until he could be sure he wouldn’t break down. When he’d gotten his breath under control, he laid his hands on her slim biceps and held tight until she met his gaze.
“I have never been prouder in my life. You’ve worked incredibly hard, and overcome obstacles no one should have to deal with. You’ve done it all with a grace most grown women don’t possess. I would be thrilled if you wanted to go to Yale. I always thought I’d get to show you and Gavin around campus, we’d get to go to football games together, maybe even complain about some of the same professors.”
His throat tightened, those very images flitting through his mind along with a dozen others that could never be. Keyne opened her mouth, about to speak, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. “But I would also understand if you wanted to go somewhere else. If you think being in New Haven would be too much for you. As long as you go to college, I don’t particularly care where it is. Being on that campus . . . You have a choice about putting yourself in that position, whereas so many other things you had no choice in. I will support you one hundred percent in whatever you want to do. That’s the only reason I’m not breaking out the champagne and running around the neighborhood chanting Bulldog fight songs. Understand?”
The reward for his ridiculousness was a small, watery smile. “Okay. But Jas, I really do want to go. Promise.”
That’s when he let the smile break across his face, and he picked her up and swung her around, squeezing a surprised squeal from her lungs as she hugged him back. She felt so good against him, small and warm, but strong as hell. And her body pressed so tight against his . . . if she wrapped her legs around his waist, he might die. So he allowed himself another second of the embrace before setting her down.
“I think this calls for a celebration. Want to go out?”
Though most of the women he knew would jump at the chance to go out—and for something this big, he’d take her anywhere she wanted to go—Keyne shook her head. “I thought you were cooking tonight?”
“That seems like an even better reason to go out.”
She rolled her eyes, and then looked to the side, bashful as she shrugged. “I like it when you cook.”
God knew why when Ada was far more proficient in the kitchen, but if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what she’d have. “Okay. You can start your homework while I try not to burn the place down.”
But instead of settling at her desk, she took up her books and headed for the door. “I’ll do it in the kitchen. You could probably use some supervision.”
He’d like to argue, but truthfully couldn’t so he shrugged and ruffled her hair on the way down the hall which led to her trying to punch him, him trying to tickle her. By the time she was laying her books out on the breakfast bar, the world seemed like a decent place.
Jasper pulled the recipe up on his phone, and while Keyne cracked open her notebook, gathered up everything he’d need. How Ada made this look easy, he’d never know. Cutting boards, knives, pans, pots, not to mention all the goddamn ingredients. Keyne worked away, looking far more competent at her reading and note-taking than he felt surrounded by all of these things that would allegedly come together to make a meal.
He’d been doing okay—pot on to boil for the pasta, onion and garlic chopped, meat browning in the pan—when of all the things, he sliced open his finger on a can. Swearing profusely, he held his finger as the blood welled at the cut.
Before he could think to do anything other than stare and curse, Keyne was there, taking his injured hand in hers, and lifting his finger to her mouth. Then her tongue was on him, laving away the blood and surrounding his finger with a wet heat that made him forget that he’d been hurt. Profanities flooded his head for entirely different reasons.
Her mouth felt like heaven and the fiery pits of hell all at once. Heaven, because goddamn, her mouth, and what he wouldn’t give to feel those lips, that tongue against his, or god help him, on other parts of his body. But to have any of that was a sure road to perdition. Not to mention what the fuck was wrong with him for wanting that? Be a man, Andersson, be her guardian. Protect her against all things, including your depraved self.
So he yanked his finger away, not failing to notice the hurt and confusion that flashed in her eyes. Better that than realize he was clenching his jaw so hard the bones might shatter in an effort to not get hard.
“Infection,” he muttered, as he shook his hand. Maybe if he shook it hard enough, he’d be able to forget what her mouth around him had felt like.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, sorry.”
He knew he should shrug it off, tell her not to worry, because that was a perfectly normal impulse. If he were perfectly normal and not a complete and utter deviant, it wouldn’t be a problem. Sweet, even, that she had the impulse to comfort him. Things being as they were . . .
“It’s fine. I’m going to go clean this up. Could you make sure dinner doesn’t burn? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” During which he’d do his utmost to get his goddamn shit together.