Chapter 18 Juniper
EIGHTEEN
JUNIPER
I’m buzzing this morning. Horny, restless, agitated energy hums under my skin like I plugged myself into a Christmas bulb socket. I can’t even focus on my audiobook while I get ready because every other sentence fades out to make room for him. For last night.
God, last night.
The memory still makes my knees weak. I can’t believe I did that. In my bookstore. Liam’s ridiculously strong thigh between my legs like I’d been starving for him for a decade. Which, apparently, I have been. But the evidence should not have been left all over his pants. Yet, it was.
And his mouth. Those filthy, perfect words.
Grind that sweet cunt on my thigh.
Jesus, I didn’t know I’d like it that much. But then again, I do read about dirty-talking heroes for a living, so maybe it shouldn’t have shocked me that his filthy mouth made me come so damn fast and hard.
And now? Now I’m left standing here, staring at my coffee pot like it holds answers. What the hell is happening between us?
After the thigh incident, and my meltdown of a climax, we just went back to restocking shelves. Like nothing happened. Like we hadn’t just done that. My brain was a blur of holy shit and do not get attached.
Because there is no us. Not really.
If his rejection last year gutted me, what’s it going to feel like when he packs up that perfect accent, that orgasm-inducing thigh, and flies back to his perfect New York City life next week?
I’m reading into it too much. It was just a moment. A wild, hot, filthy moment with a man I’ve secretly wanted since the day I met him. Nothing more.
My head clears just in time to stop myself from pouring the pot of coffee into my bowl of oatmeal.
Oh my god, Juniper. Get it together!
I set everything down and breathe. One step at a time. Coffee in the mug. Oatmeal in the bowl. Sanity somewhere in my body.
When I feel more composed, I drift over to my advent calendar. Now that I’m certain it’s Liam who has been sneaking little surprises behind each door, it’s become a ritual I both dread and crave.
At least he’s not here this morning to watch me open it. The relief I felt when he texted to say he’s spending the day snowmobiling with Jasper was almost as satisfying as last night. I need the space. I need a minute to process.
And yet I miss him. His steady presence. His lazy grin. Another reason I can’t let myself fall back under his spell.
I crack open today’s tiny door and find a small firefly brooch tucked inside. Delicate wings, a swirl of green on its tail.
My heart clenches. It’s beautiful. Thoughtful.
Firefly. His nickname for me, whispered like a secret in the dark. His word for how I glow when I’m happy. How he says he’s always seen me—bright and warm and impossible to ignore. And he knows I love to collect little vintage trinkets like this.
It’s too much. Too sweet. Too intimate for my desire to keep him at a casual distance.
But I pin it to my sweater right away. Right over my heart. Like I want him there even if I know better.
I spend the morning alphabetizing a stack of holiday romances I’ve already organized twice. Every time I catch my reflection in the front window, the firefly pin winks back at me, like a dare I’m not ready to take.
The bell jingles above the door and my mom breezes in.
“Brought you sustenance,” she announces, like I’m not fully capable of feeding myself.
Though with all the holiday events and the store restock and Liam consuming nearly every waking thought, she might be right.
I accept the egg salad sandwich and bag of chips she pulls from her purse. Unwrapping the sandwich, I see the avocado peeking out and my mouth waters. I love avocado.
Before I can thank her, her phone rings.
It’s the default ringtone at an ungodly volume, and it takes her far too long to answer. I’m about to jab the button for her when she bats my hand away and gingerly picks it up.
“Hi, Jasper.”
I turn my attention to my sandwich while I wait for her to finish the call, but an audible gasp snaps my head back up.
“Oh, my goodness,” she exclaims, clutching her chest. “Liam hit a tree?”
Liam. Hit a tree.
A vivid horrifying image flashes through my mind. Liam’s body flung from a snowmobile, slamming into a tree trunk like a rag doll. My limbs go numb.
Liam. Hurt.
Injured.
Dead?
Appetite gone, my chest cinches tight, and I think I might throw up.
“What?” I whisper, my voice so thin it barely exists. My gut twists so hard I nearly double over.
“But he’s okay?” my mom asks, pressing her lips together when she nods. “Oh, that’s good.”
He’s okay. Not dead. Good.
She keeps nodding, murmuring something I can’t hear, but it does nothing to settle the storm inside me.
I stand abruptly, my untouched sandwich forgotten. I grab my purse with shaking hands.
“Juni, where are you—” She starts, but I cut her off.
“Can you watch the store?” I blurt. I don’t wait for her to hang up. I’m already grabbing my keys and bolting for the door.
Twenty minutes later, I’m screeching into the parking lot of the Summit County Hospital.
“Take a breath, Juniper,” I mutter, trying to calm the thundering in my chest. “Don’t kill yourself on the way to check on him.”
Liam is okay. He’s alive. But that doesn’t ease my heart at the thought of what could have happened.
What if he was gone? And I’d been standing there playing it cool, pretending I didn’t care. What’s the point of guarding my heart if I could’ve lost him anyway?
Cranking the steering wheel, I fly into a parking spot. I almost forget to put my car in park and nearly hit another car.
“I’m so sorry!” I call to the startled driver across from me, then slam my door and sprint for the entrance.
I blow through the automatic doors like a woman possessed, the sound of my boots squeaking against the sterile floor echoing through the ER.
“Liam Hargrove?” I pant to the nurse behind the desk.
She looks up from her screen, mildly alarmed. “He was brought in a little while ago. Exam curtain five—right over there.”
I barely wait for her to finish pointing before I’m weaving between wheelchairs and IV poles, muttering apologies, while my heart thuds in my ears.
Curtain five. Please be okay. Please be okay.
I whip it open and stop cold.
Oh. Oh no.
A man, no, a mummy, lies in the hospital bed, fully encased in a head-to-toe body cast. Only his eyes and mouth are visible. His face is battered, and a little puffy. But he’s tall, dark-haired, and currently very silent.
“Liam?” I croak, my voice wobbling.
He doesn’t answer. Just blinks. Twice.
My eyes fill with tears as I step closer, grabbing the edge of the bedrail. Yes, he’s alive, but a full body cast? It’s so much worse than I’d imagined.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe this happened to you. I—” I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m so mad at you. For scaring me. For being reckless. For kissing me like you did last night and now I can’t even touch you.”
He still says nothing, just another blink.
That’s how we’re going to have to communicate now.
Blink once if you need water, twice if you have an itch.
Selfishly, I’m dying for him to touch me. And now he can’t. At least not for a while. Ugh. Is the universe punishing me for not leaping into his arms the moment he showed up?
Knowing what I’m about to say will be another hit to the ego, I power through the humiliation anyway.
“Here’s the truth, okay?” I say softly, my voice cracking. “You do mean something. You always have. Even when I didn’t want you to. Even when I swore I’d let this silly crush go.”
From behind me, a throat clears.
If that’s the nurse coming to check vitals, it’s the worst possible timing.
“Just a minute. I have to get this out,” I say, dropping to the chair next to the bed.
“That watch you found? It was for you, but it wasn’t from Jasper.
I picked it out. I saw it at a vintage shop and immediately thought of you.
” I swipe at a tear sliding down my cheek.
“Even after last Christmas, I never stopped thinking about you. I don’t know how to stop. ”
“Firefly.”
The deep rumble makes my heart seize. But unless Liam has a talent for ventriloquism, it did not come from the mummy in the hospital bed. It came from behind me.
I turn my head slowly, and there he is—Liam. No body cast, no tragedy. He’s dressed in snow pants and a sweater, a stitched-up gash on his forehead, and the smuggest fucking grin I’ve ever seen.
“I meant curtain six,” the nurse calls from the hallway. “Sorry! My bad!”
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask.
“Not long.” His lips twitch. “But I did hear every word through the curtain.”
“Oh my god.” I cover my face with both hands.
Swallowing hard, I turn to the man in the hospital bed and whisper, “I’m so sorry.” Then, I shoot Liam a hard stare as I move to rush past him.
He reaches for me, pulling me behind the actual curtain six where I see his winter coat is lying across the bed.
I fold my arms. “You look pretty okay for someone who hit a tree.”
“My ego took the worst of it.”
I practically snort. His ego? Ha! It’s got nothing on mine. I’m the idiot who didn’t think twice about hauling-ass to the hospital when I thought he was injured. And for what reason? Because I care even if I wish I didn’t.
“Five stitches.” He points to his brow. “It could scar and the hair might not grow back right.”
“Poor thing.”
“Mr. Hargrove, your discharge papers.” The nurse dips inside the curtained-off room to hand Liam his paperwork. “Check out at the front when you leave.”
“Thank you.” He smiles at her, but the second she’s gone, his eyes come back to me and his grin softens.
He sees it then and his gaze drops to my sweater where the tiny firefly brooch glints under the fluorescent lights. He lifts his hand, brushing a knuckle gently over the pin.
“It looks perfect on you,” he murmurs. The teasing edge in his voice is gone. What’s left is something warm and sincere that makes my throat tight all over again. “Better than I imagined.”