I wasn’t sure what to do after high school, so I took some classes at the local community college and commuted from home. But after Libby’s sixteenth birthday, I had to get out of there. I was asked about working on large engine machinery for a few of the farms, and the college I went to offered courses on it. They set me up with a job once all my paperwork went through, and now I’m the on-demand mechanic for all the farms in the tri-state area. I never thought I could make this much money at twenty-one years old, but it turns out this shit pays extremely well.
I keep myself busy with work, and that seems to be the only thing that can quiet my mind. But even then, it’s not enough. Thoughts of Libby are always in the back of my mind, and it’s only gotten worse since I moved out.
Today my dad called me and asked me to come have dinner tonight. He said Carol missed me, and that I needed to see Libby. The way he said it made me think there was more to it. Like there was a specific reason I needed to see her. He also told me that we needed to have a man-to-man talk, and I don’t even want to think about what that might mean.
I lean forward, this time putting my forehead on the steering wheel and trying to will myself to leave this parking lot and go to my parents’ house. I was on my way there after I got my dad’s call this morning, but I stopped in town to have a slice of pie before I did. That’s when I saw Libby unloading her baked goods, and I sat here, watching her like a lecher.
There should have been a point in my life when I stopped having feelings for her. I should have gone out and found a woman and fucked this out of my system. But instead I’m a twenty-one-year-old who’s never so much as kissed a woman. I’m embarrassed for my own dick because there’s only one woman he wants, and he won’t be satisfied with anything else. Meanwhile, Libby is probably getting felt up and God knows what else by little fucking pricks who don’t know how to treat a delicate beauty like her. Baby-bitch boys who would touch her like they wanted and not understand that she’s the most precious fucking thing that has ever existed on this goddamn earth.
I sit up, hitting my steering wheel so hard my palm burns. Good. Maybe the pain will stop this ache in my chest.
My eyes travel up, and I see Libby standing there with a box in her hand as a guy walks over. It’s John Bishop's boy, Owen. I’ve never had a problem with him, but suddenly I hate every fucking thing about that shithead.
I’m out of the truck before I know what I’m doing. If I had a rational thought, I’d make myself stop. But I’m not listening to myself. I’m only seeing red as he reaches out and touches her cheek. I don’t know what he is to her, but he’s about to be six feet under.
When I see him bring his hand up to his mouth, I reach out grab his wrist, and then turn my eyes on Libby. I need her to look at me and not at him. I’m so fucking jealous that I can’t stand to have her eyes on any goddamn man except myself.
“Jasper,” she says, and the sweet, soft sound has my every inch of my body hard.
“Go get in my truck, Libby. I’ll meet you there.”
I let go of Owen's wrist, not wanting to touch him, but I keep my eyes locked with her bright greens. A light blush creeps across her cheeks, and she looks down at the ground. I hate that I don’t get to see them on me anymore, but she nods, and a little peace settles in my chest. She and Nicole turn to leave, but I don’t watch her go. Instead I turn to Owen, standing in front of him, my big body blocking his view of her.
“What’s up, Jasper? Just saying hey to your sister. No harm, man.” He holds his hands up like he doesn't want a fight. But he obviously does if he’s touching what’s mine.
I try to rid my mind of the thought of Libby being my property, but it’s no use. She’s been mine since we were kids, and there’s no changing my stupid brain now.
“Keep your hands to yourself, Bishop,” I say, and I don’t move an inch, daring him to come at me. I could use a fight right about now. It would probably help me burn off some pent-up aggression.
“Look, I know she’s your sister and all. But I’m a decent guy. Why don’t you put in a good word for me?” He shrugs like he’s some sort of fucking prize.
“No,” I say and turn around, walking towards my truck.
“No?” I hear Owen say behind me. “Fucking asshole.”
He says the last part so low I don’t think he expects me to hear it. But I’m so pissed off I could hear a mouse fart in a cotton ball.
“What you’d call me?” I say, whipping around and taking two long strides to put me back in front of him.