Chapter 45
Ididn’t regret saying it — I’d never regret telling her how I felt.
What I regretted, though, was walking away.
The look on her face — God, it was burned into my skull. Like she wanted to speak but couldn’t. Like she was already mourning something she hadn’t lost yet.
And I’d left anyway.
Because if I stayed, if I begged, if I told her again how much I loved her, I’d break her.
But that didn’t make it easier.
On the first day, I woke up and instinctively reached for my phone to text her. The second day was the same. I’d typed out half a dozen messages — stupid ones, casual ones, the kind that might make her smile.
Saw a dog today that looked like a loaf of bread.
Your coffee order is insane, by the way.
I never sent them.
I didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to make her feel trapped.
Still, I couldn’t stop missing her.
I missed the sound of her laugh, the way she looked at me like she saw past all the bullshit and believed I was still worth something.
And no matter how many times I told myself to move on, my chest still ached for her.
So I did what I always did when I didn’t know what else to do.
I went for coffee.
I almost didn’t notice him at first.
That wasn’t true — besides the two pictures on her Instagram, I wouldn’t have known it was him standing behind me at this shitty coffee shop.
I didn’t want to talk to him. God, I didn’t even want to look at him.
But he noticed me.
Of fucking course he noticed me.
And recognition lit his face like he’d just won something.
“Well, well.” He smirked. “If it isn’t Ansel Barlowe.”
I said nothing. Just gave him the tightest smile I could manage and turned back toward the counter.
He didn’t take the hint.
“You’re hard to miss,” Joel said, stepping closer. “Especially with all those… pictures. My ex-wife seems to really enjoy the spotlight.”
My jaw tightened.
“Guess she finally got that hall pass, huh?”
I turned to face him. “Don’t.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t what? Joke about it? Please. I’m glad someone’s keeping her busy. She was always so… needy. Clingy. Exhausting, really.”
I felt the first spark of anger crawl up my spine.
Joel saw it — and smiled like he’d just hit a nerve.
“I mean, good on you, man. She always had a thing for projects.” He chuckled. “Bet she’s already talking about forever. Don’t worry. She’ll burn herself out, eventually. She did with me, too.”
I felt my teeth clench, fists tight at my side. I wasn’t strong enough for this. It had only been two days since I laid my stupid heart bare before her.
But he kept going. “Trust me,” Didn’t know when to fucking stop.
“I saw firsthand how exhausting she can be — all those emotions, all that desperate clawing for something that wasn’t there.
You think you’re saving her?” He laughed, clapping me on the shoulder like we were old friends.
“You’re just another adrenaline rush on her rollercoaster life, brother. ”
As hard as I tried to ignore him, as painful as it was to just let him speak… he kept going.
“Juniper’s a storm, man. You don’t tame that. She’s a great fuck, buddy — trust me, I remember. She likes it rough — borderline cruel.” I tasted blood on my tongue. “God, I do miss those tits of hers—” His hands moved in a vulgar gesture.
And that was it.
I didn’t hear another word he said.
My fist connected with his jaw quickly, drawing a curse from his ugly ass mouth. “She’s not a toy to degrade.” Another punch, the rat bastard’s nose was bleeding. “She’s not a mess to mock, or an object to sexualize. You never fucking knew her.”
“Oh, and you do?” He asked as he staggered, landing a hit to my gut. I barely felt it. Pain might have sparked through me, white-hot, but it only fed the fire roaring in my chest.
I lunged again, slamming him back against the counter so hard the cups rattled. My fist drove into his ribs once, twice, until I heard him wheeze.
“You don’t get to say her name,” I growled, my voice a low, dangerous rasp.
Another punch — his head snapped to the side, blood spraying his lip.
“You don’t get to talk about her body like she’s—” crack “—a fucking conquest you brag about over beers. You don’t get to act like she’s disposable just because you weren’t man enough to love her right. ”
Joel swung again, sloppy this time, catching my shoulder.
I barely registered it. I shoved him hard, knuckles splitting as I landed another hit to his face.
“She’s better than you’ll ever be. She’s stronger, smarter, kinder than you deserve to breathe the same air as.
And you? You’re a bitter, pathetic asshole who’ll spend the rest of his life rotting in his own regret. ”
He staggered, his hand clutching his bleeding nose, eyes wide now — not cocky anymore, not smirking.
I stepped closer, breathing hard, voice dropping to a snarl. “She is mine. And you don’t get to speak about her ever again.”
I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
Even when Joel sagged against the counter, blood running down his face, I kept swinging — years of frustration, anger, pain spilling out through every brutal hit.
Hands grabbed me from behind. “Sir! Hey — HEY! Get off him!” I snarled, trying to shake them off, landing one last punch square to Joel’s jaw. His head lolled, eyes glassy.
More hands. Someone yanked my arms back, twisting them behind me until my shoulders screamed. A voice barked in my ear, “Stop resisting! You’re under arrest!”
Cold metal snapped around my wrists.
Great.
Joel was groaning on the floor now, clutching his face. Somewhere, people were shouting, phones out, recording. The fight drained out of me as they hauled me outside, my chest heaving, blood on my knuckles.
Hours later, I sat in the holding cell, my hands cuffed in front of me, wrists sore, lip split. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only the hollow ache of what I’d done.
“Phone call,” a guard grunted, shoving the receiver toward me.
My mind went blank.
There was only one number I could remember right now. My hand trembled as I punched it in.
It rang once. Twice.
“Hello?” Her voice. Soft, familiar, devastating.
I swallowed hard. “Juniper.”