Sucking up to him? Maybe.
But maybe I can try to tell him when he gets back. Once it’s out there, it’s out there, and I won’t have this secret hanging over my head.
Meanwhile, the nights Jasper is here, he’s getting to know each of the kids, especially Rhys, and I think they like him. The twins like anyone, Zoe doesn’t care because she hangs out in her room mostly, and I think the only one who is wary of him is Hazel, but she’s too polite to say anything. I find her staring at him, lips pursed, and it’s like she’s trying to figure him out. Or us out.
I’m going to have to talk to her about it. I’ve been giving her space because when I ask about school now, she freezes up, and I’m worried the bullying is only getting worse, but she refuses to talk to anyone about it.
Because the team is at practice over the break, I’ve had to ask Mrs. Peterson to help out a bit more. I still feel guilty when I need to ask her to work extra time, especially considering she’s meant to be retired and enjoying peace and quiet and not looking after hyperactive twins and moody teenagers, but she insists she likes it. “Keeps me busy,” she says all the time.
A few of the team are heading up to Montreal after their last practice, and as I see them out, watching as Asher pulls the Range Rover out of the parking lot, an idea forms.
Impulsiveness and a side of me that I thought was long buried comes out. The side where I do something because I want to, as selfish as it may be.
With hockey being out the next few days and Asher going away … I take my phone out and type a message.
I want to tell the kids tonight.
Jasper’s reply is immediate: *gulp*
I hit his number.
“It’s scary,” he says by way of greeting.
“It’s not. They’ll love you.”
“Asher won’t.”
“Asher’s not going to be there.”
“What if one of the others tell him?”
“Then they tell him. I plan to do it after he gets back in a few days anyway because I’ve decided I can’t wait any longer. I figure, if the others know, then maybe you could start spending the night with me. All night. In my bed. In a bedroom that has a lock on the door.”
“What time should I come over?”
I laugh. “Want to tell them together?”
“No, but I will, if you’d prefer it.”
“I’m heading home to tell them, if you want to join me.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Bring your toothbrush.” I end the call and race home. Jasper has to pack a bag so that will take some time, but I want to make sure the house doesn’t look like its usual bomb has hit it, even though Jasper’s seen it at its worst while tutoring Rhys.
I want to make it feel like a home because if I have my way, Jasper will be staying over a lot.
Entering the house, I’m met with a confusing sight. I pause in the doorway and blink. Then I blink again. The place is … clean. And tidy. The twins are playing on their Xbox, Hazel’s in her usual spot with Rhys opposite her working on math problems Jasper sent him “for fun”—they’re both crazy if you ask me, but whatever—and Zoe’s nowhere to be seen, but she’ll no doubt be upstairs.
Mrs. Peterson steps through the entryway from the kitchen. “You’re home.”
“I am. What, umm, happened in here? Did you clean? That’s not part of your job.”
“I got the kids to clean.”
My gaze narrows. “I’ve walked into the wrong house or an alternate dimension, right?”
She chuckles. “You’re so funny.”
Rhys scoffs and mutters, “At least someone finds him funny.”
“Heard that,” I sing. “And I’ve definitely got the right house, then.”
Mrs. Peterson steps closer to me and lowers her voice so the others can’t hear. “You know all that guilt you carry around?”
My mouth drops, but she doesn’t let me ask how she knew.
“Please, it’s written all over your face whenever you have to leave the kids. My point is, you know what guilt is good for? Making children do things. When I told them you’ve been working hard and they should show you some appreciation, they got to work. The place scrubs up nice, doesn’t it?” She glances around the room, at the shiny hardwood floors and light gray furniture. It looks nice when it’s not covered in socks, jackets, schoolbooks, and all the other random crap the kids have.
“Tell me all your secrets. Please,” I beg her.
She just smiles. “You’ll learn one day. Okay, I’m going to head home and feed my girls.” By girls, she means her two schnauzers.
“Thank you for all your help over spring break.”
“Thank you for funding my next vacation.”