Chapter Thirty-Three
Zade
Waking up to the sound of birds chirping, the first thing I notice is the warmth beside me.
The soft rise and fall of steady breathing, the comforting presence that feels so right—it takes a moment to fully register.
I turn my head and see Juniper lying there, flushed and breathing shallowly.
I reach out to touch her forehead, and yep, she's burning up. Fantastic. I told her she’d catch a cold, but does she ever listen? Of course not.
I sit up carefully, trying not to disturb her too much, and give her a gentle shake. “Juniper, wake up. You’re burning up.”
She stirs, barely opening her eyes. “I’m fine,” she mumbles, and it sounds like her voice took a vacation to Raspyville.
“Nope, you’re not. Unless by ‘fine,’ you mean ‘feverish mess,’ in which case, spot on.” I give her one of my best ‘I told you so’ looks. “Do you have any flu meds, or should I start planning your funeral?”
She nods weakly. “In the bathroom cabinet. ”
“Of course, where all the good stuff hides,” I mutter, getting out of bed and pulling on my jeans and undershirt.
I head to the bathroom, rummaging through what looks like the aftermath of a small hurricane, until I find the medicine.
I bring her the flu meds with a glass of water.
She takes the pills without a fight, probably because arguing takes too much energy.
“I’m going to make you some soup,” I say. “And by ‘make ,’ I mean I’ll attempt something edible. Just rest and try not to die.”
She nods again, her eyes closing as she drifts back to sleep.
I head to the kitchen and start searching for anything that can be thrown into a pot and called soup.
As I chop vegetables, it becomes painfully clear that I’m missing a few essentials.
Great. Because nothing says ‘I’m a caring human being’ like feeding someone plain broth.
With the soup barely managing to simmer, I turn off the stove and grab my flannel shirt, deciding to head to the nearest grocery store. Luckily, my driver arranged for another car to be parked outside the cabin after the last one broke down last night.
The drive into town is dull, but my arrival feels like throwing a rock into a still pond—everyone’s curiosity ripples through the place. Me, in flannel and jeans? I might as well be Bigfoot buying shampoo.
As I’m grabbing what I need, I hear a voice behind me that could curdle milk. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Zade, the househusband. I never thought I’d see the day.”
I turn around, and, of course, it’s Brian. His smirk is as irritating as ever, but there’s a twitch of fear in his eyes. “What, Brian? You got bored of being a nuisance at town hall and decided to upgrade to grocery store heckler?”
“Just surprised to see you in domestic mode,” he smirks, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. “Juniper’s got you wrapped around her finger, hasn’t she?”
I step up to him, towering over his shorter frame. I look down, my voice steady as I say, “First off, I’d be damn lucky if she had me wrapped around her finger. Second, it’s none of your goddamn business.” I make sure to enunciate every word, letting him know I’m not playing around.
He laughs, but it’s more of a nervous chuckle. “Sure, sure. Just surprised, is all. I didn’t think someone like you would waste your time on a woman like Juniper. I mean, she’s small-town, nothing special. Not exactly the kind of woman a guy like you should be chasing after.”
“Watch it, Brian,” I warn, narrowing my eyes. “You’re skating on thin ice, and it’s about to crack.”
He shrugs, trying to play it cool. “I’m just saying you could do better. You’re wasting your time with her.”
And that’s it. I’ve had enough. I drop the oranges I’m holding and step closer, my fists clenched. “One more word, Brian. I dare you.”
His smirk falters, and he steps back, suddenly remembering that self-preservation is a thing. But he can’t resist pushing just a little further. “Come on, Zade, she’s just—“
My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish that thought, and he stumbles back, crashing into a display of canned goods. The store goes dead silent, and everyone stares at us.
Brian scrambles to his feet, rubbing his jaw, his eyes wide with shock. “You’re crazy!”
“Yeah, that’s the consensus,” I say, towering over him. “And if you don’t shut your mouth about Juniper, you’re going to find out just how crazy I can get.”
The store erupts into quiet giggles, and I catch a couple of kids whispering, “Did you see that? The mayor screamed like a girl!”
Brian’s face turns beet red, and he looks around at the smirking faces. “You’re gonna regret this, Zade,” he mutters, trying to save what little dignity he has left.
“Not as much as you’re regretting opening your mouth,” I reply, turning on my heel and heading for the checkout. As I pay for the groceries, the cashier gives me a grin, clearly impressed.
“Nice right hook,” she says, bagging my items.
“Thanks,” I reply with a smirk.
I head back to the cabin, my mood lifted after the encounter.
When I get back, Juniper is awake, sitting up in bed.
She looks a bit better but still weak. I set the groceries down and get to work in the kitchen.
After what feels like forever, I finally taste the simmering soup and can honestly say it’s good.
I pour her a bowl and bring it over, proud of the meal I managed to pull together.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice still soft but genuinely grateful .
“Don’t mention it,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She smiles faintly, but I can see she’s too tired to respond. I help her lie back down and tuck the blankets around her. “You didn’t have to do all this,” she whispers, her eyes already closing again.
“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure you don’t turn into a human popsicle,” I say, trying to sound gruff, but there’s an edge of concern in my voice I can’t quite hide.
Once she’s finished with the soup, she goes back to sleep.
I guess she doesn’t have the energy to get out of bed today.
I sit by her side, watching her breathe.
The fire crackles in the background, filling the room with warmth as I try to wrap my head around how much this woman has managed to change me.
But instead of dwelling on it, I just lean back in my chair, letting the warmth of the fire and the quiet presence of Juniper be enough for now.
When she wakes again, she seems a little stronger. We sit together by the fire, the cabin feeling almost cozy despite the storm outside.
“I’m sorry for everything,” I start breaking the silence. “For the way I’ve treated you, for everything that’s happened.”
She looks at me, her eyes filled with tears. “It’s not all your fault, Zade. I was too trusting, too naive.”
“Naive, maybe. But strong too,” I say, reaching out to take her hand in mine. “You’re strong as hell, Juniper. You’ve dealt with more than most people ever would. And you’re still standing. That’s pretty damn impressive.”
Her eyes widen, and I can see the tears start to well up. I tighten my grip on her hand, wanting her to understand how much I mean it. “You’ve been through hell, and you’ve come out the other side. That’s something most people couldn’t do. You’ve got more guts than anyone I know.”
She looks down, a tear slipping down her cheek.
I gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at me.
“You’re amazing, Juniper. And anyone who can’t see that is a complete idiot.
You deserve so much better than what you’ve been given.
You deserve happiness, love, and someone who sees you for who you really are. ”
She chokes back a sob, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Zade, stop. You’re going to make me cry.”
“Good,” I say, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Cry. You’ve been holding it in for too long. Let it out.”
And she does. She breaks down, her shoulders shaking as the tears flow. I pull her into my arms, holding her tight, letting her finally release all the pain and weight she’s been carrying. “I’m here for you,” I whisper. “Always.”
We stay like that for a long time, her sobs gradually quieting. When she finally pulls back, her eyes are red and puffy, but there’s a softness there, a vulnerability that she rarely shows.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “I needed to hear that. ”
I place a kiss on her forehead, feeling my heart swell with something I’m not quite ready to name. “Anytime, Juniper. Anytime.”
Without another word, I lean in and kiss her, gentle and tender. For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of us, connected in a way that’s far beyond words.
When we finally pull back, her eyes are still glistening with tears, but there’s something new there too. A soft smile spreads across her lips, and it’s like the first real sunshine after a long, dark storm.