yours.

[44] Jasper

Miles is oddly quiet on the ride home. I clutch the ten bags of gummy rings he insisted on buying me in my lap, unsure whether to stare out of my window or at him.

At him, I think to myself. Definitely at him.

So I watch him carefully, waiting to see if he'll ever tell me what's on his mind.

But when he does, I wish more than anything that he hadn't.

"So. About your dad..."

I turn my gaze to the window. "Nothing interesting there."

He readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, continuing, "I just... I was just wondering, after what you said in the store... um. Jas, does your dad--"

"Get angry? Yes. We've already established this." I knew I should have chosen my words more carefully when I talked with my mother. Mentioning my father -- or, more specifically, what he'd do to me -- just raises too many questions. "Moving on. Are there different flavors of gummy rings? Because there's so much room for--"

"Yes, peach is the best. But back to your dad--"

I ignore him, trying to derail the conversation. "I mean, I'd have to assume cherry would be pretty good--"

"I just want to know if he--"

"--but you know I'd love banana--"

"JASPER!" Miles shouts, slamming on the brakes at a stop sign, and I recoil in my seat. He sees my fear and reaches out to me, but I shrink away from his touch. Panic flitting through his gaze, he tries again, "No, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

I shift closer to my car door. "Okay." My voice is soft.

"I just... Can you please tell me what's going on with your dad? I only want to help." And he's being honest, I know it.

But I can't be -- I can't let him in. Because if I do, he'll tell someone, and my father will get in trouble, which in turn will only get me in more trouble. I can't risk messing things up in my family... again. We can't take another tragedy.

So, I meet Miles' eye and say calmly, "Nothing's going on, okay? Thank you for your concern, though. I appreciate it."

He seems unconvinced. "I know something is, Jas. And I'm not going to stop caring until I know for a fact that you're living in a safe household." A line of cars is forming behind us, but he doesn't care. "Because I'm persistent, okay? Even if you don't like it." A weak smile forms on his lips.

I look away. "Pull over."

"I... what?"

"Pull over."

He finally pulls away from the stop sign, much to the relief of the dozen people waiting behind us. He drives us onto a side road, where I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for my door handle.

"Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," I shoot back. "I told you, there's nothing for you to worry about. And if you don't want to respect that, then I'm leaving." I crack open my door.

He shakes his head, leaning across me to slam it shut again. "Well, I'm not going to let you. It's not safe out there--"

"I can defend myself, thanks--"

"Jas, please." The raw desperation in his voice is the only thing that stops me from reaching for the door handle again. "Please, just... don't leave." As his green eyes search mine, I remember the promise I made to him, all those weeks ago.

No more leaving. 

Sighing, I sink back into my chair, glaring out of the front windshield. Miles relaxes a little too, and he takes my hand gently. "If you don't want to tell me details," he starts quietly, "you don't have to. But I really do just want to know if you're safe." His fingers tighten in mine. "I care about you, Jas. I do."

The affection chokes me up, and I stare down at our hands to avoid letting it show. "You're not my boyfriend, Miles," I say, my voice low. "You and I both know that. You're not my protector, you're not... anything to me." What am I doing? I think, my mind racing over my words, unable to let my terrible mistake go. That's not what I meant.

"I'm not?" He draws his hand away, hurt. I refuse to meet his eye. "Then what are we doing here?"

I'm running away. Even if I'm still here, I'm running away. Again. "I don't know." Miles just sighs, running a hand through his hair, and I keep my gaze trained on my lap. "I don't want to fight."

"I don't either, but who am I to talk? I'm nothing, apparently."

My heart constricts at his words. "I didn't mean--"

"It's fine, Jasper. It's whatever." He puts the car in drive, pulling back into the road to join traffic. When I look up at him, his expression is stony. "I'll just bring you home, where everything is fine for you, and when tomorrow comes, we won't have to see each other because things are better like that anyway, aren't they? You're busy being fine, and I'm busy being nothing--"

"I don't think you're nothing, Miles. I care about -- I love you." The words tumble out before I can stop them, and as soon as they're out there, I know there's no taking them back.

Miles' face goes blank, and I tense as I wait for his response. "Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice low.

"I... I don't know." I think I do.

He nods slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yup. I'll get you home. You're just tired. It's fine."

A horrible sense of dread floods my gut as I feel everything we've done -- everything we've made -- slipping away from me, out of my reach. Everything is going wrong, and it's all my fault. "No, Miles, wait. I'm not tired, I..." I don't know what I am. So instead of trying to explain, I wait until he slows to a stop at a red light before leaning over the centre console between us to kiss him. I try to put all of my words into my kiss, to make him understand how much he means to me and how much I'd hate to lose having him in my life.

But my message doesn't seem to reach him. He pulls away, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder to guide me back into my seat. I watch in fear as he averts his gaze to the road, remarking, "You're really confusing me, Jasper."

"I'm sorry, I--"

"You refuse to let me help you, then you try to jump out of my car, then you tell me I'm nothing to you, and then you... kiss me?" He shrugs, incredulous. "I don't really know what you're trying to say."

"I'm trying to tell you I... love you." The words don't feel false in my mouth, but they don't sound right, either. But I can't stop anything else from going wrong, why not this, too? "I'm not tired, and I'm not confused, and I love you."

"We're going home, Jasper."

"Miles, please--"

"We're going home," he repeats firmly. "And when we see each other tomorrow, we can act like none of this ever happened."

I sink back into my chair. It's a 'when,' and not an 'if,' at least. But there's still a sinking feeling in my gut telling me that nothing between us will ever really be the same.