Chapter Twenty-Eight
Juniper
When I come out of the bathroom, the room is almost dark, except for the little coming from the fire but its warmth barely touches the chill in the air.
Zade is already dressed, standing by the window.
His back is to me as he stares out into the night.
Looking at him stand there, my emotions feel like a tangled mess, and I can’t seem to find the strength to sort through them.
When he suddenly turns, I immediately glance around the room. I have to avoid his gaze. I must. But how do I avoid the elephant in the room? The fact that what just happened between us was real. The guilt and shame are starting to settle in and I know I will overthink about it the entire night.
“I’m going to head out,” he says without looking at me. Perhaps he also feels the guilt, the shame I feel. Perhaps he thinks it was a mistake. There are so many perhaps in my mind.
“It’s freezing outside,” I say, kind of low, but it still comes out sounding more worried than I meant. The thought of him staying in the cabin messes with my head because right now, I do not trust myself around him. But the idea of him maybe not making it through the night feels worse.
He glances out the window, where the snow is swirling in the wind, creating a white haze that makes the night seem even darker. He hesitates, clearly torn between leaving and staying. “So, I can stay?” he asks, unsure.
I finally look at him. “But you’re sleeping on the couch. There’s a blanket in the closet.”
He nods, looking relieved, and moves to the closet to grab the blanket.
As he gets comfortable on the couch, near the fireplace, I go back to my bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me.
I lean against the door for a moment, taking a deep breath as I try to steady myself. Everything feels so overwhelming.
The cabin is silent except for the howling wind outside and the occasional creak of the floorboards as Zade shifts around on the couch. Each sound grates on my nerve, reminding me that he’s still here, still close.
Frustrated, I grab a pillow from the bed and yank the door open. I hurl the pillow through the doorway with all the strength I can muster. “Here!” I snap, my voice sharp. “Use this if it helps you keep quiet!”
I hear a muffled “Thanks“ from the other side of the door, and then, finally, there’s silence.
I lie down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, but sleep won’t come.
My mind is going in circles right now. I hate how messed up I feel, how much I want to push him away, yet some part of me wants to pull him closer.
I’m torn, conflicted, and it feels like I’m stuck in a never-ending loop of doubt and regret.
Eventually, exhaustion wins, and I fall into a restless, uneasy sleep.
????????????????????
When I wake up, last night’s events do a quick recap in my mind, making it hard to move.
But still I get up and walk out of my room and see Zade sprawled on the couch, half-covered by the blanket, his hair tousled and sticking out in different directions.
He looks peaceful, almost vulnerable in his sleep, which only stirs up a confusing mix of emotions inside me.
How can he look so calm, so unaffected, when I’m a complete mess?
I just stand there for a second, watching him breathe. His chest rises, then falls, like he is perfectly calm. Like none of this touches him. And honestly… he looks good. It was the first thing I noticed about him, and probably the reason I let my guard down so fast.
But I was not falling for him. I was getting played.
He knew exactly what he was doing. Said the right things, made me feel seen, made me think I mattered.
And then, just like that, he betrayed me.
Now I feel my stomach twist, and not in a sad way.
I feel angry. Like full-on, teeth-clenching angry.
Because I just don’t want to go there again.
I don’t want to want him. Not again. I have to be smarter this time.
I head to the kitchen, needing the distraction of making breakfast. The routine helps ground me, gives me something else to think about.
I crack eggs into a bowl, whisking them with a focus that bord ers on obsessive—anything to keep my mind from wandering back to him.
I fry bacon, the sizzle filling the air, and brew coffee, letting the rich aroma fill the cabin.
The smells are comforting and familiar, and they help steady me, at least for a little while.
From the living room, I hear a groggy mumble and glance over to see Zade stretching, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he tries to wake up.
He looks around groggily before his eyes meet mine.
For a second, there’s something in his gaze—regret, maybe, or something deeper—but I quickly turn back to my cooking before I can think too much about it.
"Morning," he mumbles, sounding half-asleep as he shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
“Morning,” I reply curtly, keeping my focus on the breakfast. I pour a second cup of coffee right away and place it on the counter for him because I don’t want him entering the tiny kitchen and invading my space.
He takes the coffee, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Thanks,” he says softly, as if he’s not sure whether I want to hear it or not.
I finally look at him, my expression hard. “Last night meant nothing, Zade. You used me; I used you. That’s all it was.”
He flinches,just a little, but it’s enough to make me feel a pang of guilt. Still, he no ds, accepting my words with a sad, resigned look. “If that’s how you want to see it.”
“We need to move past it. I have my life, and you have yours,” I continue, my tone firm, leaving no room for argument. I need to keep my distance, to build those walls back up before he finds a way to tear them down again.
"But Juniper, it wasn't just—" he starts to protest, sounding desperate, like he's reaching for something already halfway gone.
“No, Zade.” I cut him off. “It was just that. Now, if you’re staying for breakfast, sit down. Otherwise, you can leave.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the room as he looks at me, his eyes searching mine for some sign that I don’t really mean what I’m saying.
But I keep my expression neutral, my gaze steady, giving nothing away.
After a long moment, he finally sighs and nods, accepting my words, though it’s clear he’s not happy about it.
He decides to stay for breakfast, probably hoping for another chance to talk to me later, to say whatever it is he thinks will change my mind. We eat in awkward silence. Each bite of food feels like a chore, and I can’t wait for the meal to be over, for him to leave so I can finally breathe again.
After breakfast, Zade stands up, grabbing his coat from the chair. He pauses at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob, as he turns to look at me one last time. His eyes are filled with regret, sadness, and determination. But it’s the determination that stands out the most.
"I'm not going anywhere, Juniper," he tells me straight-up, no hesitation, making my stomach knot itself.
I don’t respond; I just watch him leave, the door closing softly behind him.