Chapter Twenty-One
Zade
The next morning, I’m driving through the streets of Cody, and every corner feels like a punch to the gut.
The town’s small, but it’s packed with memories of Juniper.
The café where we met? It’s right there, mocking me.
The bookstore where I bought those books for her, thinking it’d make her laugh—she’s not there either.
It’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Her laugh, her voice—they're all over this damn town, haunting me, but she’s gone.
Finally, after hours of driving around, I reach the hospital. I park and head to the bench, the one where Juniper and her brother sat—when I gave them a lift on that rainy evening.
I sit down, closing my eyes, and let the memories flood in. I miss her—her smile, her innocence, her vulnerability.
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice Dominique until she sits right opposite me on the bench. She doesn ’t say anything at first, just sits there like she’s supposed to be part of the scenery.
Dominique’s eyes lock onto mine, the anger radiating off her in waves. “I figured I’d find you here when Jacob mentioned you were back in town,” she grits out, her voice taut, barely containing the storm raging beneath her forced composure.
“Dominique,” I say quietly. I’m not sure if I’m saying hello or bracing for the fallout. But the second her name is out, the room feels different.
She doesn’t hold back. “What you did to Juniper, Zade... You’re worse than everyone else in this town.
Sixteen years ago, they broke her, and now you just threw her back into the fire.
You gave her hope, only to rip it away. You used her, kept her dangling with promises of a connection while my pathetic excuse for a husband did your dirty work. Are you really that low, Zade?”
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say, but the words taste bitter and empty.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” she snaps, her voice hard with disgust. “You didn’t care enough to find out what she went through, did you?
You just barged in, dragging her into your mess without a second thought.
And now, what? You’re here, acting like a good guy?
Where were you when she was being torn apart by this town? ”
Her words cut deep, leaving me reeling from my own ignorance. “I didn’t know,” I murmur, almost inaudible.
“Of course you didn’t,” Dominique spits. “You didn’t bother to know. This t own didn’t just gossip about her—they crucified her!”
“I swear, I’ll make it right,” I declare, the desperation clear in my voice. “I just need to find her, to explain, to tell her—“
“To tell her what?” Dominique interrupts, her eyes narrowing. “That you suddenly care? That you’ve realized how incredible she is? Where was this epiphany when she needed someone to stand by her? Where were you when she was being ripped to shreds?”
“I’m here now,” I say, almost pleading. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’ll do whatever it takes to fix them.
Juniper means everything to me. She’s strong, kind, and resilient—she’s been through hell, and she’s still standing.
I admire her more than anyone I’ve ever met. I just... I need her to know that.”
Dominique’s anger doesn’t fade, but there’s a flicker of something else in her eyes—something like pity. She sighs, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
“With everything I have,” I confess. “But I need to find her, Dominique. Please. I need to tell her that I see her, that I understand now. I’m not the man who hurt her, not anymore.”
Dominique studies me for a long moment. As she stands up to leave, she hesitates, turning back to me. There’s a look on her face, like she knows something I don’t. “You know where Juniper is, don’t you?” I ask, looking straight into her eyes.
Dominique meets my eyes, and there’s something in her gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. She doesn ’t say anything, just gives me a sad smile, and I know she’s got the answers I need.