Chapter 46
Ididn’t even have the chance to blink the sleep out of my eyes before I was tugging my shoes on.
“I need you to come and get me,” he’d said — and I was on the way. No questions asked.
Yet.
He was being held at the jail just outside of Seattle, about thirty minutes from my house. When I pulled up, still in my damn pajamas, my heart was fluttering rapidly.
What the fuck happened?
The officer at the desk took my credit card without a word, a seemingly permanent scowl etched onto his features. “He’ll be out soon.” He snapped, dismissing me.
I sat in the uncomfortable seat, awkwardly shifting in my seat — waiting for Ansel — when my phone rang.
“Girl,” it was Jess on the other line. “Have you seen it?”
“Seen what?”
“Oh lord. I’ll send it to you.” Then she hung up with a click.
A text came through moments later, a link titled ‘BARLOWE’S brEAKDOWN’.
Oh shit.
My stomach dropped as I hit play. The video was shaky, with muffled voices in the background, but there was no mistaking him.
Ansel.
Wild-eyed, bloody.
Beating the absolute shit out of someone in the coffee shop.
Fist after brutal fist, landing with sickening thuds that somehow cut through the grainy audio. He shoved the man against the counter, teeth bared in a snarl, every line of his body feral and unrestrained.
My breath caught in my throat.
Oh, my God.
That was Joel.
He’d done this — for me.
Even through the shitty resolution, I could see it. The rage in his eyes. The way he said something — to him, about me — before landing another vicious blow.
Heat curled low in my stomach. I should have felt horrified. Should’ve been furious, embarrassed, something.
But I couldn’t stop staring.
Because no one had ever done that for me.
No one had ever looked at the man who’d gutted me and thought, I’ll ruin you for what you did to her.
Not just thought — Ansel tore him apart. And while I couldn’t hear what he was saying, I knew he was defending me.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
I watched until the very end — until the cops tackled Ansel back, until he stopped fighting and just let them drag him away, chest heaving, eyes still blazing.
And in that sterile, fluorescent waiting room, I realized with bone-deep certainty: I’m not sure I ever wanted anyone more in my life.
My lip ticked up as my finger hit the replay button.
The door buzzed before I’d made it to the first punch.
He stepped out with an officer trailing behind him, cuff-free now but looking like he’d just walked out of a bar fight in a movie — lip split, knuckles torn up, hair falling wild over his forehead.
“Hi,” he said, almost sheepishly, like we weren’t standing in the middle of a goddamn police station.
I crossed my arms, lips twitching. “So.” He was already grinning. “You got arrested. You know it’s not even eight am, right?”
“Couldn’t even change out of your pajamas, kid?”
“You owe me $3,000, cowboy.”
“I’ll give you thirty thousand if we can stop somewhere for coffee. My last cup got… I forgot it at the shop.” He slung his arm over my shoulders, doing nothing but exciting my skin more.
The officer behind the desk gave us both a pointed look. Ansel just stepped closer, the perfect picture of contrition and charm. “Promise she’s taking me straight home, officer. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
The officer snorted. “See that you are.”
Ansel’s hand brushed mine — soft, fleeting, deliberate. “She always keeps me out of trouble.”
My face flushed hot under the weight of the officer’s eyes.
And then —
The second the door shut behind us, the second we stepped into the cool night air — Ansel pulled his arm back like it burned him.
His smile was gone, wiped clean in an instant. He shoved both hands into his pockets, shoulders tense, gaze fixed straight ahead.
I blinked at him. “What—”
“Let’s just go,” he muttered, voice low, raw.
My stomach twisted.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just made a scene back there.” I jabbed my elbow into his side.
“Because the scene’s over, Juniper.” His jaw flexed, eyes hard on the pavement as he stepped out of my reach. “I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to say. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, heat and frustration blooming in my chest. Because I’d seen the video. Because I knew why he’d done it, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
But he didn’t know that.
The drive was quiet. Too quiet.
He sat slumped in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead like he could will himself anywhere but here. His jaw was tight, lips pressed in a hard line.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. Every mile that passed just made the heat in my chest coil tighter, sharper. “You’re really not going to say anything?” I finally muttered, glancing at him.
His shoulders shifted. “What do you want me to say, Juniper? That I embarrassed you? That I acted like a goddamn cave dweller and ruined my own career?”
“That’s not—”
“I shouldn’t have called you,” he cut in, voice rough. “I don’t know why I did.”
My chest ached. “Maybe because you needed me.”
He flinched as if I’d struck him.
“You think I don’t know better?” He let out a bitter laugh, still not looking at me. “You don’t need someone like me blowing up your life. You’ve been through enough. I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t get to want you on top of that.”
The words cracked something deep inside me.
He didn’t know. He didn’t know what I’d seen. My throat tightened as I stared at the dark stretch of road. “You think I don’t know what you did?”
His head snapped toward me, eyes wide.
I swallowed hard. “I saw it, Ansel. The video. All of it.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, jaw working.
“And you know what?” My voice broke, soft and sharp all at once. “I don’t care how messy it looked. I don’t care that you got arrested. Because no one — no one — has ever stood up for me the way you did before you threw that first punch.”
The air between us burned, heavy, electric.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, pulling the car off on the shoulder.
“What are you doing?” He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
Shifting into park, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
With a little bit of maneuvering, I slid from the driver’s seat and into his lap, straddling him awkwardly. “Ansel,” I whispered, lacing my fingers through his hair. “No one.” My forehead was resting against his. “I was scared. I might still be scared.”
His breath hitched, fingers trembling as they settled at my hips, grounding me. “I know,” he whispered, voice rough, almost breaking. “Me too.”
We stayed like that — forehead to forehead, breath mingling, the world outside shrinking to just us. I traced slow circles along the nape of his neck, searching for words I didn’t have.
“Maybe I’m scared I’m too broken,” I admitted, voice barely audible. “Or that this…” I swallowed hard. “... that I won’t be enough.”
His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “Juniper, look at me.”
I met his eyes — wild, wounded, and yet fiercely alive. “This is messy,” he said, “but it’s ours. It can be ours, baby.”
Tears pricked at my eyes as his hands slid under my shirt, fingers tracing fire along my ribs.
I pressed closer, heart pounding, lips trembling as I let the dam break. “Did I—” my voice hitched as I felt a tear creep down my cheek. “—did I ruin this, Ansel?” My fingers traced the lines of his jaw, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose.
“Do you think I beat the shit out of everyone’s shitty ex-husbands?” He laughed, kissing a tear off of my cheek. “I’m here, Juniper. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he kissed me.
Slowly at first, cautiously — like he was afraid I would run away if he moved too fast. His lips were gentle, coaxing my comfort out of me, but I didn’t want soft.
Not after all this time.
“Ansel,” I muttered against his lips, bruised and bloodied. My fingers curled in his hair, tugging him closer, swallowing the shaky breath that left his chest when our mouths collided again.
This kiss wasn’t sweet. It was bruising, frantic — like we were both starved and terrified this was the last time.
“Juniper—” His voice cracked against my lips, hands gripping my thighs like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting me go.
“I don’t care,” I whispered, kissing him harder. “I don’t care about the rest of it. Just be mine. Please. Please tell me I haven’t fucked this up too much.”
He groaned — low, guttural — and that was all it took.
Suddenly his hands were everywhere, sliding under my shirt, splaying over my back, grounding me as he shifted us, pushing the seat back as far as it would go.
With my knees braced on either side of him, the cramped space of the car pressed us closer, tighter, until there was nothing but heat and the breath that surrounded us.
His mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw, my throat, biting gently at the pulse pounding beneath my skin. I gasped, my hips rolling against the seam of his jeans, catching against his erection.
He kissed me back like he was drowning, like every ounce of him wanted to give in — and then he tore himself away with a curse, resting his forehead against mine.
“Not like this.” His breath was ragged, voice almost breaking. “God, Juniper — not like this.”
I shook my head, desperate, kissing him again. “Yes. Please. I don’t care.”
But his hands slid from my waist to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks so gently it hurt. “I do.”
The words landed heavily, stealing the air from my lungs.
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “You don’t know how badly I want you. How long I’ve wanted you. But if this is the first time I get to have you—” His voice cracked, raw. “I want it to be special. Not here. Not like this.”
Tears stung my eyes, something in my chest splitting wide open.
“Ansel—”
His lips pressed to my forehead, lingering there. “I’ll take whatever scraps you can give me, Juniper. Every single one. But I’ll be damned if I let our first time be on the side of the road, after you’ve bailed me out of jail.”
And somehow — that broke me more than if he’d let it happen.
Because he meant it.
Because he wanted me enough to wait.
Without letting go of me, he threw the car door open, standing slowly with my legs still wrapped around him. He kissed me once, quickly, before depositing me back into the passenger seat. “And I was serious about breakfast.” With a grin, he closed the door.
I sat there, heart thundering, lips still swollen from his kisses, staring at him as he rounded the hood.
God help me, I wanted him.
But worse —
I think I was finally starting to realize just how badly I might love him.