Chapter 43
Two weeks.
That’s how long it had been since I had left her alone in the hotel room. Since I slammed the door. Since I told myself not to look back.
And did anyway.
Pillars of salt had nothing on me.
Since she didn’t stop me.
And every day since, I’d told myself not to reach out. That if she wanted me, she’d say something.
She hadn’t.
But neither had I.
I’d been a mess about it, if I was honest. My mom had called after I canceled dinner with her. I’d lied and said filming was running late. She didn’t buy it but didn’t press.
Kellogg had asked me if everything was fine before a press junket. I told him it was. He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe me for a second.
Hell, even my publicist noticed. “Ansel, you’re usually better at faking a smile,” she’d said with a too-bright grin.
I wasn’t in the mood to fake it anymore.
Not when every photo of us, every headline about us, felt like it was mocking me. I’d been stupid enough to think she’d meant it. That the touches and the kisses and the quiet mornings were real.
Maybe they had been. Maybe she just couldn’t admit it.
Either way, I couldn’t stop replaying her face — wide-eyed, guilty, small — when she’d said it was all fake.
God, I wanted to hate her for it. It’d be easier.
But I couldn’t.
Because in every photo, every memory, she still looked like the best thing that had ever happened to me. And there was an ache in my chest that was shaped just like her.
When my driver pulled up to Figments, my stomach knotted. I hadn’t let myself picture this moment, ran through a hundred different excuses in my head, begging for a reason to cancel.
Would she be there?
Of course she would. It was her store. We were still ‘dating’ as far as the world knew. Her manager would absolutely schedule her to be here tonight.
But would she look at me?
Would she smile, even a little?
I told myself I didn’t care. That I was just here for the signing, for the fans, for the job. But my heart lurched the second I stepped out of the car.
Because tonight, I’d have to see her.
And I did not know what I’d do when I did.
The bell chimed as we pushed through the door.
The shop smelled of old paper and coffee, familiar in a way that twisted my chest. That’s when I saw her.
She was behind the counter, fussing with a stack of books that didn’t need fussing. Same messy curls, same soft sweater that hung off one shoulder just enough to drive me insane.
Her head lifted, and for one fraction of a second, our eyes met.
It was like being punched square in the gut.
I thought maybe — maybe she’d smile. Maybe she’d say hi in that quiet voice she used when she wasn’t trying to hide how much she liked me.
But she didn’t.
She looked away first.
I forced myself to move, every step feeling heavier than the last. My driver, Matt, greeted her like he always did, bright and kind, and she laughed — polite, practiced, not real.
Not the laugh I missed.
God, I hated that I could tell the difference.
My hand flexed uselessly at my side, wanting to reach out, to touch her waist, to tuck that loose strand of hair behind her ear.
But we weren’t us anymore.
And maybe we never had been.
“Ansel, over here!” Matt’s voice cut through my fog, motioning to the signing table. I nodded and went, every step away from her feeling like a fresh tear in something I hadn’t realized could rip further.
The signing felt like hell.
Smile.
Sign.
Laugh.
Nod.
Every time a fan said something sweet, every time Matt cracked a joke, I smiled like it didn’t cost me everything.
But she was everywhere.
Flitting around the store, hair falling in her face, that sweater slipping off her shoulder like it used to when she was in my kitchen making coffee she never finished.
God, I could barely focus on the names I was signing. My chest ached with every glimpse of her. The way her hair fell in her face. The way she smiled at people — kind and bright and not for me.
And she didn’t look at me. Not once.
Two fucking weeks without a word, and now she was standing ten feet away like we were strangers. By the time the last fan left, my chest felt like it was going to cave in.
Matt packed up the pens and clapped me on the shoulder. “Outstanding event, man. I’ll see you later?” He nodded toward where Juniper stood with a wink and a grin, as if he knew exactly what he was implying.
“Yeah.” My voice was dead. “I’ll find my way home.” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly.
“Get some sleep, alright?”
I didn’t answer.
The door shut behind him.
And then it was just her.
She was stacking books that didn’t need stacking, pretending like she didn’t feel me watching her.
I moved. Feet following a path I never had to memorize.
My body knew the way to her. As the space between us grew smaller, my heart beat faster.
I wanted to scream, to shout, to cry. But more than any of that — I wanted to hold her.
To smell her hair, to kiss her forehead and feel the warmth of her skin against mine.
“Say something.”
She blinked, startled. “What?”
“Anything.” My voice was low, raw. “Because I’m two seconds from losing my goddamn mind watching you pretend I’m not standing right here.”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
“Two weeks, Juniper.” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Two weeks of silence. After everything. You ruined me in that hotel room, and then you vanished like none of it meant a damn thing?”
“I—”
“No.” I stepped closer, close enough to see the way her chest rose too fast, her fingers twitching against the counter like she wanted to grab on to something.
“I need you to tell me why. Why do you keep running when I’m standing right here, begging you without even saying it?”
Her throat bobbed; her eyes glistened.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean what?” I snapped. “Didn’t mean to let me fall in love with you? Didn’t mean to make me think this was real?”
“Ansel—”
“God, June.” My laugh cracked in half, ugly and sharp. “I wake up every morning hoping you’ll call. I fall asleep every night wondering what the hell I did wrong. And then I come here, and you’re just — what? Acting like I’m no one to you?”
Tears welled in her eyes, and that wrecked me. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “It scares me. You scare me, Ansel.”
“Yeah?” I stepped in close enough that our chests almost brushed.
“Well, so am I. Because this—” I grabbed her hand, pressed it flat against my chest so she could feel how fast my heart was beating.
“—is the only thing that’s felt right in a long fucking time.
And I don’t know how to stop wanting you, even when you make me feel like I’m nothing to you. ”
Her breath hitched.
“Say something. Please.”
Her lips parted like she might speak, but nothing came out. Just wide, wet eyes and the sharp rise and fall of her chest.
The silence gutted me.
“You’re not gonna say anything?” My voice broke, hoarse and raw. “Christ, June, do you even get what you’ve done to me?”
Her fingers trembled against my chest, still pressed where I’d put them.
“I love you.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, jagged and desperate.
Her eyes widened, but she still didn’t speak.
“I love you, and you don’t even—” My laugh was bitter, ugly. “God, you can’t even give me anything. Not a word. Not a sign you feel it too.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I didn’t care anymore.
“You’re the only thing that’s felt real in years. And I hate that you can make me feel like this — like I’m begging for scraps — when I’d give you everything.”
Her face crumpled — eyes squeezed shut, teeth digging into her lip like she was holding back the words I was begging for.
And that made it worse.
Because she wanted to say something.
But she still didn’t.
I stepped back like the space between us might stop the ache in my chest. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” I laughed again, hollow. “How easy it is for you to ruin me.”
I let go of her hand.
“Forget it.” My voice was rough, final. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” Another step backwards. I felt tears on my cheek. “I’ll handle everything. It can be over Juniper.”
I thought — for a split second, maybe she was crying too. It was too much — I turned toward the door.
Her hand twitched—just an inch, like she almost reached for me. Her lips parted, a strangled please caught in her throat.
But nothing came out.
The door opened, and the cool night air rushed in.
I didn’t look back.
Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave.