His Custody

by Tamsen Parker

  “Get out. Now.”

  She shook her head, the vulnerable look disappearing, her brassy ponytail swinging behind her. “I’m right. You’ll see.”

  She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving footprints in the fine layer of dust that had settled on the rug while Jasper stood there, his hands clenching into fists.

  As soon as the front door slammed shut, he stormed off to find Ada, kicking his shoes off as he got to the threshold so he wouldn’t make more of a mess than necessary. He’d have to check that Sarah hadn’t left any surprises on her way out either. Thank god Keyne was out like a light and wouldn’t know; she didn’t need the guilt of feeling like she’d broken them up even though it’d been inevitable. She wouldn’t see it that way.

  ***

  When Keyne woke up in the morning, it was to a note from Jasper on her bedside table.

  Keyne,

  I have a few things to discuss with you. After you’re up and have eaten, come find me in the library.

  -J

  It was funny he wrote her notes instead of texting like a normal person. But she liked the paper, the way a little bit of Jasper must be etched into the surface because of the aggressive way he wrote. She knew he did it because if he was in a rush, he couldn’t even read his own writing. But this, the forceful way he painstakingly made sure she’d be able to read it, it made her feel like he cared.

  Even if he was awkward, and didn’t know what to do with her, he was trying. The least she could do was try too.

  She took a shower and got dressed, headed down to the kitchen where Ada had some waffles keeping warm in the oven for her, and tried to eat. Food used to be something she looked forward to, but now it was another chore on the long list of things she needed to do. More accurately, that Jasper told her she needed to do.

  It was something he tried not to make a big deal out of, but he got edgy when she didn’t eat. Maybe he was worried she’d refuse in a bid to waste away into nothing? Come to think of it, that didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. There had to be worse ways to go than starving yourself to death. Like drowning . . .

  She shook her head and cut off a few bites. Objectively, she knew the waffles were delicious but they may as well be sawdust in her mouth. It was like the guys her friends thought were cute. She could play the game, and gossip about the same boy-band stars and hot actors they did because she knew she was supposed to find them attractive, but she . . . didn’t. Didn’t fantasize about them, didn’t hang their posters on her wall. Had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with her.

  She took another bite of her waffles, this one a square she’d cut so it was filled to the brim with syrup, and still. No pleasure at all.

  Jasper had looked almost hopeful when he told her Sasha’s mom had called him asking if Keyne wanted to spend the night. Was it because he wanted some time with Sarah? She tried to give them privacy, space. Jasper hadn’t seemed to mind if she wanted to be around them, to hear other people breathing, living, even if she pretended to read a book. But Sarah had given her dirty looks. Had she done something wrong? She couldn’t think of it if she had, but for the first month or so she’d been here, she’d been more of a ghost than a person and she couldn’t remember. It seemed far away.

  When she’d said no, though, he hadn’t seemed irritated. Accepted her answer with a nod and headed out of her room, saying into the phone he had tucked against his shoulder that it was kind of them to offer, but Keyne wasn’t ready yet . . .

  She took one more bite and then pushed her plate away. Giving Ada as much of a smile as she could manage so she wouldn’t think it was her, she also said thank you. Because her parents had taught her manners, dammit, and she’d hold onto any bit of them she could.

  Next on her list was finding Jasper. He’d said he’d be in the library, which was one of her favorite rooms in the house. She liked it better than his office because the chairs in the library were meant to sink into. Some were so big she could hide inside of them.

  When she got there, the door was open, and she could hear Jasper on the phone.

  “Why the fuck is he dragging his feet so hard on this? Because I’m not—”

  He must’ve heard her then because he turned around and clammed up, his shoulders rising and stiffening. It made him look bigger, which goodness knows, he already looked big enough. The furniture around him looked like it was built for him whereas it made her feel like a toy who’d wandered into the wrong scale dollhouse.

  “I have to go, Deja, but if you get any more information, I want it. Email or text for the next hour, though.”

  Jasper hadn’t taken his eyes off of her even as he finished his conversation with Deja. Gavin’s had been a sweet baby blue, whereas Jasper’s were grey. She’d never met anyone else with eyes that color, but she was glad. They would’ve been intimidating on anyone else but on Jasper . . . they were part of him, something she took for granted.

  She picked up a paperweight that graced one of the side tables and hefted it in her hand. The thing was heavier than it looked. “What was that about?”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket, and then ran a hand over his hair. She hadn’t noticed before, but his tie was undone and hanging around his neck, the top button of his shirt undone. That was a habit he’d shared with Uncle Arvid: they both wore a shirt and tie and not jeans when they were working, regardless of whether they were at home or in the office.

  “Just Deja.”

  She liked Deja. Unlike Sarah, Deja had always been nice to her. Plus, Keyne had wanted to be her when she grew up. Not work for Jasper, but a badass lawyer who didn’t take crap from anyone and who was so good at her job even a bull-headed guy like Jasper listened to her.

  “Not ‘just Deja.’ You would’ve finished your conversation if it were ‘just Deja.’”

  The corner of Jasper’s mouth lifted and she couldn’t help but mirror his expression while she tossed the paperweight in the air and caught it again. He wagged his finger at her, and snagged the weight out of the air, tossing it behind himself and back to her.

  “You pay too much attention.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Don’t be sorry, it’ll serve you well later in life. And if you have to practice on me, well, that’ll be good practice for me, too. Apparently my poker face could use some work.”

  They tossed the paperweight back and forth, and it was easy. When everything else was so hard, this simple act was comforting somehow. She let him do it for a few minutes before she caught the heavy glass globe and held on, ruining their rhythm, his hands outstretched and waiting for a prize that never came. “If you think you’re going to distract me, you’re wrong.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  No, she couldn’t, and actually, she appreciated it. That he’d been trying to hold everything away from her, no matter how mundane. But she was curious now, and stubborn as she ever was, so she sat on one of the oversized couches and waited for him to sit next to her. He didn’t.

  Instead, he stood in front of her, and gestured for the paperweight. She tossed it to him, and he shifted it back and forth between his hands.

  “So, what I actually wanted to talk to you about was that you won’t be seeing Sarah anymore. She and I ended things last night.”

  He tossed the weight back to her, and she caught it before it landed in her lap. “You broke up?”

  She’d read somewhere that British people think you frown with your forehead and Americans think you frown with your mouth, and decided in that moment that Jasper must be British somewhere along the line because he was frowning without his mouth moving. “Yes.”

  Jasper made a “come on” motion with one of his hands, and she let the glass roll off her fingers. She’d barely put any force behind it and he had to bend almost to the floor to catch it. There was that icky feeling in her stomach that crawled u
p through her ribcage.

  “Because of me?”

  He said no, but didn’t look at her as he said it. That meant yes.

  “Don’t lie. She broke up with you because of me, didn’t she? I’m sorry, Jasper. I know I said I didn’t want to go to Miami, but I could. Sean and Deborah aren’t that bad. You can call Sarah and tell her—”

  Suddenly his knuckles were white around the paperweight and he pointed at her with his free hand. “I will do no such thing, and you aren’t going anywhere. So, yes, the symptom of our split was she’s not a fan of not being able to live the single childless life we did before, but—”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but Jasper cut her off before she could. “Don’t you dare. What I was going to say was even though that was technically the reason, it wasn’t the root cause. I realized I wouldn’t want to be with someone who wouldn’t do the same thing and who wasn’t willing to make some changes when someone in my family needed me. Do you see the difference?”

  “Sort of.”

  “No, not sort of. I forbid you to feel bad about this.”

  He lobbed the weight back and she caught it with a smile. “You know you can’t control my feelings, right?”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try when you shouldn’t feel bad.” Hands on hips, he stared at her. “It might’ve taken longer, but she was immature and self-centered, and it wasn’t like I was going to marry her or anything, okay? You saved me some time and effort. So thanks.”

  She didn’t buy it, but the icky creepers had retreated to the bottom of her stomach and she didn’t have a ton of capacity to hold onto it anyway. It’s not like she and Sarah had been besties. Now if she’d done something to make Deja leave, then she’d be sorry. Speaking of Deja . . .

  “So what was that phone call about?”

  “Right, that.”

  He started pacing, so she held the glass in her hands, and it grew warmer as she passed it back and forth. It was pretty, looked almost like earth from space. She waited for Jasper to talk. He wasn’t one for hesitating. Gavin hadn’t been either, but she suspected their reasons had been different. Gavin couldn’t even help it, words bubbled right out of him, whereas Jasper was so sure of himself there was no reason to wait.

  “Deja’s been trying to access information about your parents’ financials, but their attorney has been resistant.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means . . .” Jasper put his hands on his hips and shook his head, blowing a breath out his nose. That was never a good sign. “It means that whatever’s there probably isn’t good news.”

  ***

  He shouldn’t have told her. That was clear. She stiffened and blinked too fast, and her eyes darted side to side, like she didn’t quite understand and was trying to see if he’d stashed the answer around the room somewhere. He wished. At least he’d had the good sense not to mention the other phone call he’d had with Deja this morning.

  Sean and Deborah, apparently not knowing when they’d been beat, had filed a custody suit. Judge Pollard had refused to consider it . . . thus far. His stomach lurched and he needed to find something else to focus on. How about the scared shitless girl in front of you who’s doing her best not to have a panic attack, asshat?

  Yeah, that’d be a good start.

  “Hey, what’re you doing for the rest of the day?”

  Her nose wrinkled up like a bunny’s and all of a sudden she was a kid again. “Freaking out about possibly being a penniless orphan?”

  “You’re not penniless.” His voice was gruffer than he’d intended, but regardless of what shook out, she wouldn’t be destitute.

  True, though, that speculating about the state of the O’Connells’ affairs would be what was running on a loop at the back of his thoughts, too, but he didn’t want her obsessing about it. He needed to do something. She needed to do something. Even if it was something frigging useless, as long as it could give them the illusion of having some control.

  That’s when it hit him, and he needed to make a call. But first, he had to occupy Keyne while he did. What did she love best that he could give to her? She had a worn copy of Peter Pan in her room, she’d grown out of her horse phase, and she’d never been much for TV. What she did like though . . .

  He strode over to a bookshelf and knelt in front of it, digging around on the bottom shelf for what he knew was there, if only he could find it. Ah, there it was. The thick volume wasn’t as heavy as its bulk would suggest, and he grabbed a pencil off his desk before he thrust both of them at Keyne. He traded her the paperweight, and when she’d read the title, she looked up at him.

  “You want me to do crosswords?”

  “You like crosswords.” Didn’t she? She and Gavin would do them together on the deck of the boat or lounging together in the hammock in her parents’ backyard.

  “I do.”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her reluctant concession. “See? I need to make a call, so you can get started, and then I’ll need to do some more work, but we’ll do something special this afternoon. Get us out of the house, okay?”

  “Yeah, all right.” It delighted him to no end she’d already cracked open the book and was flipping to find a puzzle that hadn’t been started yet. Wasn’t even looking at him when she answered. Good call, Andersson. Way to not totally fuck up. Hopefully he could tally up another point in his favor later today. He drew out his phone from his pocket as he strode out of the room and scrolled through his contacts until he found what he’d been looking for.

  “Alice, darling. It’s been a while, but I’ve got a favor to ask. How busy are you this afternoon?”

  ***

  Keyne pushed the sweat-matted hair out of her face. Jasper was insane, and he was so going to pay for this.

  “Again!”

  Ugh. But she wasn’t about to not do what this woman asked of her. So she punched the mitt on the woman’s hand with one hand—a jab—and then with the opposite hand—a cross.

  “C’mon, Keyne, hit me harder. Or is that all you can manage with those spaghetti arms?”

  Oh, so that’s how it was going to be? Fuck this lady. She wasn’t any taller than Keyne, and yeah, maybe she was built like a lithe and attractive tank, but Keyne wasn’t going to stand for this “spaghetti arms” nonsense. So she hit her harder. Harder and harder until her hands hurt and the sweat was streaming down her back and she had to take a break to wipe it out of her eyes, and then she hit her some more.

  Alice. When Jasper had said they were going to go visit a friend of his and she should wear some clothes she could move in, she’d been expecting a hippy dippy yoga place with too much incense—which frankly, was any amount of incense.

  What she’d gotten instead was an MMA studio that looked like it was abandoned from the outside, and smelled like a legion of sweaty dudes on the inside. She’d glanced around at the built guys who looked like people she wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley and wondered which one of these meatheads was friends with Jasper. To be fair, if you took Jasper out of his suits and put him in the ring . . . Yeah, he’d fit in fine.

  But Alice she hadn’t been expecting. She had bleached blond hair coiled up on top of her head in a way that would make Princess Leia proud and a body like G.I. Jane. Keyne had been in awe the second she’d set eyes on Alice, but when she’d punched Jasper and put him in a headlock as soon as she came over, her admiration had turned into major heart eyes. Alice had held him that way while she’d introduced herself, and when she’d released him, she’d grabbed Keyne by the arm and said, “Let’s get started.”

  And so they had. She’d been punching or kicking the air, a bag, or the pads like catching mitts on Alice’s hands for over an hour and she was about ready to fall over dead, since she was damn out of shape from being a grief potato for a month and she hadn’t been workout Barbie before tha
t. But what she wanted even more than to collapse on the mat was for Alice to be proud of her. So she kept at it.

  The combinations Alice was trying to teach her gave her something to focus on, and managed to edge out a little of the desperation, some of the misery. All the unfamiliar moves had demanded not only her attention, but her effort. For the first time in over a month, she was tired from actual exertion, which felt cleaner, somehow. Better. Like maybe some of her paralyzing grief had been burned away. Not a lot, but even a little was a start.

  Plus, despite Keyne being a flailing bundle of suck, Alice had encouraged her, been patient. She’d made Keyne feel like even if she wasn’t strong now, there was the possibility she could be in the future. After not giving a crap since the explosion, she’d found it hard to care about anything. But this, bizarrely, gave her something to care about in a way that didn’t feel too dangerous. That wasn’t too much of a risk. All she had to do was keep pounding on the mitts.

  After a few more combinations, Alice lowered the pads and smiled. “Not bad for a new girl.”

  Keyne managed to smile back, and wiped more hair out of her face with her wrapped up hands. She’d taken her shirt off at some point since it had started clinging to her with sweat, and she became aware of standing in the middle of the boxing club in her sports bra and some cropped yoga pants. But she was also aware of Jasper sitting on a nearby bench, and shooting any guy who slowed down to look a glare that would melt most people and made it clear they should move along.

  Nevertheless, she grabbed the sweat-soaked tank from the floor and pulled it over her head before accepting the water bottle Alice offered her. After she’d squirted what felt like a gallon down her throat—which still hadn’t quenched her thirst, probably because she’d left her body weight in sweat all over the mats—she let Alice lead her over to Jasper, who was scrolling through some things on his phone.

  “Well?” he asked, and though he was looking at her, Alice answered.

  “She was awesome. You’ve got quite the warrior on your hands here, Jasper. I wasn’t sure about her at first, but your girl’s got some mettle when she puts her mind to it.”