How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,83

disappointment, not anger.

“Do you listen to music?”

Since I’ve ended our unspoken agreement not to talk to each other, Jasper slides a glance in my direction. “Sometimes. Not when I’m driving.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, his gaze shifting back to the road. “I like to be alert when I’m on the road. Music is a distraction I don’t need.”

“You let me listen to Christmas music in the car when we were driving through Stillwater.”

“A lot of things were different in Stillwater,” he says.

“Tell me about it,” I murmur under my breath, turning my head to look out the window again.

We don’t talk much the rest of the way. I tell him when I need him to pull off so I can pee, and he does. He asks if I’m hungry and I say I’m not, even though it’s not true. I just don’t want to stop for food. I don’t want to find some place on an exit along the way. I don’t want to explore with him.

I just want to go home.

My rumbling stomach gives me away and Jasper makes some excuse about needing gas so he can pull off at the next travel plaza. I’m starving by that point so I use the bathroom while we’re there, then I buy a bag of chips and a cup full of fruit to eat in the car to stop my tummy’s rumbling.

When I get back out to the car, I find Jasper waiting with a couple of hot dogs and pops that he bought while I was inside. I get in and he passes me a hot dog.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I take it.

He nods, not saying a word.

That’s our last meaningful interaction before we make it back to Chicago.

When we finally get back to the city, I feel some of the weight dropping off my shoulders. This week has been a whole thing, but it’s so close to being over now.

When Jasper drove me out of this city, I thought I might never see it again.

It could have been worse. He could have done more than scratch up my heart. He could have killed me.

It’s a dingy silver lining, but it’s the one I’ve got.

Now that we’re here, I stop moping about Jasper hurting my feelings and I concentrate on getting back to real life. This week was an adventure, a wrong turn that led me somewhere crazy and—in its own weird way—wonderful. It was an experience to remember, but it’s over now and the real world is waiting for me.

Jasper’s words from last night resurface in my mind, because I feel them, too. I miss him even though he’s still here. Now that the car ride is practically over, some part of me even wishes we’d spent it talking to one another instead of sitting here in silence.

I suppose there wouldn’t have been a point, though.

I know I’ll miss him when I go back home, but it doesn’t matter.

I’ll get over it. I have to. It’s my only option.

By the time we pull into Jasper’s apartment building, I feel pretty confident that I’ve got this. I can navigate the rest of these waters without taking any more damage.

I just have to get away from him first. I was right that first night, he is a danger to my well-being—just not the way I thought he would be.

Jasper’s hand is on the door handle. He’s about to open the car door and get out when I blurt, “I actually think I might just call a cab.”

He stops and turns to look back at me. “What?”

“I need to go get my luggage from Brady’s house. I fly home tomorrow, and… I need my things. Plus I have to pay him back for the Christmas gifts we gave your family. I think maybe I’ll just get a cab to take me there tonight, and—”

Interrupting before I finish, he says, “Your stuff is here.”

I blink. “What? How?”

“I sent a friend to pick it up,” he says evasively, before climbing out of the car as if the matter is settled.

I guess it is. Maybe I should be relieved. A cab ride to Brady’s house would have been costly, and having to see his family again after all this… no thanks.

It’s no less daunting to imagine walking into Jasper’s home than Brady’s parents’, though. At least I wasn’t well on my way to falling in love with them. They might’ve made me feel uncomfortable, but it would have been a fleeting thing that only lasted as long