yours.

[59] Miles

A week passes without me seeing Jasper. Then another. Every day, I go over to his house and knock on the door, but no one ever answers. It remains deathly silent inside, like no one even lives there.

Deathly. Deathly.

I try not to let myself think about that. Jasper's fine. His dad yelled at him, that's all. But I know it's not true.

I continue to go to work with my mom, and everything just goes... downhill, with my head elsewhere. I spill water on my mom's expensive monitor, I accidentally shred an original document instead of a copied one, and somehow, I manage to jam the company's main elevator. No one can use it for the rest of the day, until we can bring in a maintenance team.

But that's not the worst of it. Things finally cross the line when Dave politely asks my permission to take my mom on an official date, and I snap.

"You're not my dad, and you never will be, okay? Stop trying so hard, it looks pathetic," I growl at him, slamming a hand on his desk and sending his cup of coffee pouring across all the important-looking papers he's working on.

I'm released from service the next day.

And now, with too much time on my hands, the only thing I really can do is think about the one thing I can't have: My good times with Jasper back. I can't help my mind from straying to the memories of those days, when all I had to worry about was keeping him safe and getting him home by dark. What I'd give to go back to that.

I spend most of my time in my room, staring idly at the ceiling or out the window and wishing I could do more to help him. I should have intervened, I think, not for the first time since I left him alone with his dad. I should have... have... But I don't know. I couldn't have separated them. I couldn't have hit Jasper's dad, I know that for sure. And I couldn't have talked him down from his anger, either.

I couldn't have helped Jasper.

But I refuse to believe that -- I love him. And I'm not giving up on him. Rolling myself out of my bed, I grab my phone and trod downstairs, swiping away another unanswered text from Krystina. When I get downstairs, I see it's Chelsea's day off. Again.

"Do you ever go to work?" I ask her, and she pauses the TV from her seat on the couch.

"Do you ever wear a shirt?"

I glance down. Sure enough, I'm shirtless. And I didn't even notice. "Whoops."

I start toward the front of the house, planning to try Jasper's door again. Maybe today is the day. "Wait, Miles, did you just wake up? It's past noon."

"Yeah. See, most normal teenagers do this thing called sleeping in--"

She rolls her eyes. "Very funny." I move to leave again, and she extends an arm toward me. "Wait, wait, stop." I do. "Miley, I'm worried about you. Have you been eating?"

I run a hand through my hair -- which is getting annoyingly tangled -- groaning, "Chels, shut up. Please, just shut up. You're not my... my caretaker."

"Well, clearly, you're not taking care of yourself. Skipping meals, getting fired, staying in your room all day... Yes, I know you lock yourself in there all the time. I don't have to be here for that. But you've been acting strange..." Then she trails off, her expression softening. "Is it something about Jasper? Did you two break up--"

"We weren't together," I bark, and Chelsea recoils in her seat. "No, I mean... no, it's not about him," I lie. "I'm just not feeling great." Which isn't far from the truth, but it does sound like it. Chelsea's eyes narrow in suspicion, and I turn on my heel, striding toward the front door. "And get out of my business."