Page 28 of Wild Thorns

The words were strange. Wrong, somehow. People didn't say things like that.

But before I could question it, he was asking: "Can I come up? I won't if you don't want me to. But I'd like to be closer than shouting distance for this conversation."

I hesitated. Every instinct I'd developed over three years with Marcus said to keep people at arm's length, to never show weakness, to handle everything alone because needing someone was dangerous.

But Jasper wasn't Marcus. And I was so tired of being alone with this.

"Yeah," I said. "Okay."

He came up the stairs quietly, without the usual bounce in his step. When he reached the top, he didn't sit down immediately, just stood there giving me space, letting me set the terms. His hands were at his sides, palms out, like he was showing me he meant no harm.

"Can I sit?"

I nodded toward the step beside me.

He sat. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, far enough that he wasn't crowding me. The consideration of it made something in my chest ache.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. He didn't push. Didn't fill the silence with chatter or jokes. Just sat with me, watching the morning light move across the yard, waiting.

His presence felt different than it usually did. The fun-loving charm was gone entirely, replaced by something steadier. Older. He felt like a wall between me and everything that might hurt me, solid, unmoving and impossible to get through.

"There's someone," I said slowly. "From before. He doesn't... he doesn't take no for an answer."

Jasper went very still. The kind of stillness I'd seen in Callum, that coiled readiness that could explode into violence without warning.

"He?"

"My ex. He's been... It's complicated."

"Is he the reason you came here?"

"He's the reason I ran." The words felt heavy, shameful. "I've been running for months. I thought I was safe here, but he found my number again. Last night."

Something changed in Jasper's face. Not just his expression, but something… something else. For a split second, his eyes seemed to flash gold, bright and inhuman, and then they were amber again and I was probably imagining things.

"What did he say?" His voice was quiet. Too quiet. The voice of someone keeping something leashed.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the blocked messages, showed him. I'd deleted the text but the notification was still there in my settings, a ghost of the words: Did you think you could hide from me?

Jasper read it. His jaw tightened. A sound came from his chest, low and rumbling, almost like a growl.

"How many times has he contacted you since you've been here?"

"Twice. Different numbers each time. I block them, but—"

"But he gets new ones." Jasper nodded as if this confirmed something he already suspected. "Does he know where you are?"

"I don't think so. I've been careful."

"That's not what I asked."

"No," I said. "I don't know."

Jasper nodded slowly. His hands had curled into fists at his sides. The knuckles were white. His forearms were corded with tension, muscles standing out in ways that seemed more pronounced than normal.