Chapter Twenty-Six
Juniper
When Zade finally drives away, I’m left standing by the window, watching his taillights disappear into the distance.
I should feel relief, but instead, there’s this odd emptiness settling deep in my chest. My hands are still clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I try to hold onto the anger that’s been my shield for so long.
“Good riddance,” I mutter to myself, as if saying it out loud will make it true. But the words fall flat in the silence of the cabin, echoing back at me like a taunt.
I force myself to go about my day, trying to shake off the unease that lingers in the pit of my stomach.
I tell myself I should be glad he’s gone—that I don’t have to deal with his infuriating persistence or those intense stares that seem to strip me bare.
But instead, I find myself missing those stares—the way his eyes would lock onto mine and make me feel something I can’t quite name.
I try everything I can to distract myself.
I scrub the cabin clean, from top to bottom, until my hands are raw and the place smells like pine an d lemon.
I attempt to read, but the words blur together on the page, and I end up tossing the book aside in frustration.
Even the crackling fire, usually a source of comfort, fails to soothe the restlessness gnawing at me.
As the day drags on, the cabin starts to feel too quiet, too empty.
I keep glancing out the window, half-expecting to see Zade’s car pulling back up the driveway, but all I see are trees swaying in the cold wind.
The solitude that I once craved now feels like a burden, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe.
Then, just when I’m starting to convince myself that I’m better off alone, I hear the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside. My heart skips a beat, but I tell myself it’s probably just someone passing by. Who else would be out here?
But when I peek out the window, there he is. Zade’s car pulls up, and he’s not alone.
I watch, my heart in my throat, as Jacob steps out of the car, his face lighting up with a smile as he looks around. The sight of my brother sends a rush of emotions through me—relief, love, guilt, all tangled together.
I fling the door open and run outside, nearly slipping on the icy steps in my haste. “Jacob!” I cry while my voice cracks with emotion.
He turns, and the moment he sees me, he’s moving too, crossing the distance between us in a few long strides. He wraps me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground as if I weigh nothing. “Juniper! God, I missed y ou.”
“I missed you too,” I whisper, clinging to him as if he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s suddenly gone topsy-turvy. For a moment, everything feels right again, like the world has settled back into place.
When Jacob finally pulls away, he keeps his hands on my shoulders, looking me over like he’s trying to make sure I’m really okay. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t visit sooner. The treatments... they’ve been rough.”
“It’s okay,” I say, though the worry I’ve been holding onto all these months bubbles up. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
Jacob smiles, but there’s a trace of sadness in it, and I know he’s thinking about everything we’ve been through. I squeeze his hand, wanting to reassure him, but the sight of Zade standing off to the side, watching us with that unreadable expression of his, pulls my attention away.
He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets, looking like he doesn’t belong. Like he’s waiting for the right moment to leave but doesn’t quite know how. I should be relieved that he’s staying out of the way, but instead, I feel a pang of something—guilt, maybe—that he’s not joining us.
“Come inside, Jacob,” I say, pulling my brother toward the cabin. “It’s freezing out here.”
Jacob hesitates, glancing over at Zade. “You sure? Zade can come in too.“
“No,” I cut him off, a little too quickly. “He’s... he’s fine out here.”
Zade just nods, like he expec ted as much, and Jacob doesn’t argue.
We head inside, and I close the door behind us, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around us.
But even as I talk with Jacob, asking about his health and how he’s been, I can’t shake the heaviness of Zade’s presence lingering just outside.
Jacob and I settle down by the fire, the crackling flames casting a soft glow over the room. He talks about his treatments, the way they’ve been wearing him down, but also giving him hope. I listen, nodding and holding onto his every word, but my mind keeps drifting back to Zade.
Jacob notices something’s off and suddenly goes quiet, studying me with those sharp, perceptive eyes of his. “Juniper... you alright?”
“Of course I am,” I say quickly, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re not exactly good at hiding things,” he says as a matter of factly. “Something’s bothering you.”
I open my mouth to deny it, but the words stick in my throat, and I let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s bothering me is standing outside on the porch.”
Jacob chuckles, glancing toward the porch. “He’s not that bad, Juniper.”
“Don’t say that, Jacob,” I snap, but there’s no real bite in my words, just a weariness that I can’t seem to shake.
A few hours pass, and the time comes for Jacob to leave.
I walk him to the door, my heart heavy at the thought of him going back to Cody, back to the treatments that are taking so much out of him.
Zade’s still outside, leaning against the car with his arms crossed, looking like he’s been waiting forever.
“I’ll come visit again soon,” Jacob promises, giving me one last hug before climbing into the passenger seat.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
As Zade helps Jacob into the car, our eyes meet for a brief moment, and something passes between us—something I don’t have the strength to name. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a small nod before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling away.
The car disappears down the driveway, and I’m left standing alone in the cold, watching the snowflakes drift down from the gray sky. The cabin feels emptier than ever as I head back inside, the warmth of the fire doing little to chase away the chill that’s settled deep in my bones.
????????????????????
Two weeks pass, and Zade still won’t quit.
He’s been parked outside the cabin like he’s made up his mind to stay forever.
Every morning, I watch from the window as he drives off toward the city, and the second his car disappears, I shut the window and pretend I’m not waiting for him.
The quiet gets to me more when he’s gone. It’s not peaceful anymore. Just empty.
I should feel happy that he goes away every day, at least for a while, and that I finally have my space back.
But instead, I just feel this empty, sad feeling inside.
It’s silly, really. Today, I am a bit on edge.
Why am I missing that jerk? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
It does n’t matter how I feel. What matters is that he’s gone for the day, and I can finally have some peace.
But just as I start to relax with a book, I hear a car approaching again. My heart skips a beat, and I tell myself it’s probably just someone lost or a delivery truck. But when I peek out the window, I see Zade’s car pulling up again.
He gets out of the car, holding something. I can’t tell what it is. My chest tightens. I feel that weird rush again—part of me wants him gone. The other part... I don’t even know what it wants.
What the hell is he doing back here?
I shift back from the window, jaw tight. He’s always showing up when I finally start to breathe again.
He doesn’t knock this time. He just stands outside, holding a thermos. I stare at him through the window, trying to decide if I should ignore him or go see what he wants.
The way he stands there, looking so sure of himself, annoys me.
But there’s also something about his stubbornness that pulls at me, making it hard to stay mad.
Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I throw on my coat and step outside, the cold air biting at my cheeks.
“What are you doing here, Zade?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed.
He holds out the thermos with a small smile. “Thought you might want some hot chocolate. It’s freezing out here.”
I hesitate, torn between telling him to go away and feeling a li ttle warm inside at the nice gesture. I reach out and take the thermos, the warmth spreading through my cold fingers. “Thanks,” I mumble, trying to keep the annoyance in my voice.
Zade just nods, his eyes on mine. “Mind if I stick around for a bit?”
I should say no. I should tell him to get lost. But instead, I find myself nodding and stepping back to let him come inside. “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m forgiving you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with a little smirk as he steps inside.
We sit on the porch as the sun sets behind the trees. The fire crackles inside, but out here, it’s just us and the cold. I hold the mug of hot chocolate, trying to focus on anything but him.
Zade leans back in his chair, staring out at the woods. It’s quiet, and I’m about to make an excuse to leave when he speaks.
“So is this your cabin?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Dominique’s parents have had this cabin for years,” I start. “Jacob and I used to come here when we were kids with our family.”
Zade’s eyes soften, and he leans forward. “Must be hard. This place holds a lot of memories.”
“It does,” I admit, feeling a bit nostalgic. “Good ones, mostly. We’d explore the woods, pretending we were on adventures. Jacob was always the brave one. I got scared of every little noise. ”
Zade chuckles warmly. “I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. “Oh, trust me, I was a chicken. I still am when it comes to some things.”
“Like what?” he asks, teasing but curious.
“Like... spiders,” I say with a grimace. “And heights. And, apparently, people who are bad for me.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and the mood shifts. The lightness fades, and we’re both reminded of the mess between us. I see regret flash in his eyes, but before he can say anything, I try to change the subject again.
“Did you know the lake nearby is supposed to be haunted?” I ask, trying to sound playful.
Zade’s brow arches. He’s clearly confused. “Haunted by what?”
“A fisherman who drowned there years ago,” I explain. “They say you can hear him singing at night, luring people into the water.”
“And have you ever heard him?” Zade asks, his eyes sparkling.
“No!” I laugh. “But Jacob swears he did once. Probably just to scare me.”
Zade grins, and for a moment, it’s easy to talk, like we’re just two people getting to know each other.
We talk about other things—favorite books, places we’ve traveled, silly childhood memories.
Somehow, despite ev erything, I find myself laughing at his jokes, feeling the tension ease just a little.
But then, out of nowhere,He leans in, and everything shifts. The way he looks at me—it’s too steady. Too much. Then he glances at my mouth, and suddenly he’s kissing me. No warning. No buildup. Just heat, fast and real.
For a moment, I get lost in it. The feel of him, the taste of him. But then reality hits me, and I pull back. My chest tightens like I forgot how to breathe for a second.
“I... I can’t,” I stammer, standing up quickly, putting distance between us. “I can’t do this, Zade.”
His eyes widen, and I see the hurt before he quickly hides it with a look of understanding. But there’s something desperate in his eyes. He stands slowly, holding his hands up like he’s trying to calm me down. “Juniper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you. I just... I couldn’t help it.”
The way he's looking at me, all open and real—it hurts. Hurts like hell. But I can't do this again. I shake my head, trying to hold it together, but my words come out shaky. "You gotta go. Please, Zade. Just—just leave."
"I'm not leaving," he mutters, sounding stubborn about it. Something in the way he says it sends panic straight through me. He steps closer, jaw locked, looking ready to fight for whatever he's holding onto.
“Zade, don’t,” I warn, but he doesn’t back down.
“Juniper, I can’t just walk away from you,” he says, almost desperately. Too desperat ely. “Not now, not when there’s still something here.”
“There’s nothing here!” I shout, the lie burning my tongue. I can tell he knows it’s not true. But he doesn’t back down. Instead, he closes the distance between us, his hand reaching out to touch my arm.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says softly as his fingers graze my arm. I feel it right away—like a switch flipping on. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I flinch at his touch, but I can’t pull away. My body betrays me, leaning into him even though my mind screams to run. “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” I manage, my words cracking. “I can’t trust you. I can’t let myself get hurt again.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. “I know I messed up, Juniper. I know I hurt you. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving until you hear me out. Until you know, I’m serious about making this right.”
I look into his eyes and see the man I once gave a chance—the man who made me believe in something more. But that man is buried under lies and betrayal, and I can’t dig him out. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Zade, please,” I whisper, stepping back toward the door. “I can’t do this.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but I don’t let him. I turn and rush inside the cabin. My heart.. It beats so fast… It won’t slow down. I slam the door shut, leaning against it, trying to keep the world out.
But he follows, pushing the door open with force. “Juniper, don’t run from this!” he shouts, standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with intensity.
“I’m not running,” I shout, though we both know it’s a lie. I back away, retreating until my back hits the wall. “Just leave me alone, Zade. Please.”
He steps forward, his expression softening, but the determination in his gaze tells me he’s not letting this go. “Juniper,” he says, almost pleading. “Don’t shut me out. Not like this.”
But I can’t handle it. The emotions, the memories, the hurt—it’s all too much. I shake my head, my vision blurring with tears. “Just... just go,” I whisper. “Please, just go.”
I watch him step back, his shoulders slumping. Relief floods through me, but it’s short-lived when I see him hesitate at the door.
He doesn’t leave.
Instead, he spins back around, staring me down like he's not budging. "No," he tells me, quiet but solid. "I'm staying put."