Jasper's Soul Mate (18+) SAMPLE

Chapter 2: Averted

 "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

After more cooing than I want to remember, I convince the battered man to enter my home. He limps the whole 20 feet from the garage and for just a second I have the urge to help him, to let him lean on me.

There's that weakness coming into play again. I can't give in. I can't allow myself to get burned again.

I walk past him, not missing his subtle flinch—which makes me feel like the biggest ass on the planet—and lead the way through my back door and into the living room. "You can sit there," I say, gesturing to a couch. "I'll be right back."

He makes no move, staring warily at the carpet.

I glance down, wondering if something is in his way but see nothing. "Is something wrong?" I ask.

He shudders and shakes his head lightly. Flecks of grime fly off of his wild hair and onto the white carpet. He visibly tenses. It almost appears as if he's been stunned.

Frowning, I look at the carpet again. If I had actually cared for this house, I might have been distressed by the sight. However, the circumstances that got me gifted this house are still raw. If I didn't genuinely need the peace that living so far out in the forest brought, I probably would have torched this place the day I was handed the keys.

"P-please," he stutters. "Can't."

I sigh. "Look, if it's the carpet you're worried about...let's just say I could care less if you rolled on every surface of this house. Just sit. I'm going to get a first aid kit for you."

He inhales harshly, barely placing half of his foot on the carpet before looking at me. I nod toward the couch. He takes a last breath and slowly limps over to it.

The moment I move, he flinches.

I freeze immediately, mouth opening to speak. But I think better of it. I doubt that he wants to talk about whatever he's been through. His behavior has red flags popping up all over the place and I have to admit, I'm genuinely worried for him.

With slower movements, I go and retrieve the emergency kit from a closet in the hall. When I come back, I find the man hunched over and rocking himself with his head in his hands once again. I step over the muddy footprints on the carpet on my way to him.

I kneel down in front of him cautiously, whispering, "This should help you."

He stays in his position, the subtle back and forth movement of his body sending flecks of dirt off of him and onto me.

Silk pajamas, kiss your ass goodbye, I muse inside my head.

Lightly, I touch his leg. I'm not surprised when the moment my hand makes contact, he jolts away, his teary-eyed gaze that's surrounded with mud, focusing on me.

"The kit," I say softly, holding it out to him.

He glances at it briefly and then stares at me.

I shake the item and try to give him my gentlest smile. He reaches out and takes the kit shortly after. My eyes follow his movements.

A mistake.

Now that his body is no longer hunched, I'm reminded of his nudity. The grime on his form only has so much coverage, that part of him has obviously been spared the mess. I blush and look away from him quickly.

"I'll uh...get you a towel," I mutter, rising from my spot.

A deep, frail voice meets my ears. "N-No."