Chapter 8
Juniper
Main Street is too damn busy for a Thursday. I keep my head down, clutching the grocery bag to my chest like a shield, praying no one decides to whisper loud enough for me to hear. But the whispers come anyway.
“Bless her mama for taking her in.”
“Heard she was trying to get her claws in the Slade boy. My Maria is devastated.”
“Can’t believe she had the nerve to go to church!”
“Poor Pastor Hilbert.”
Heat crawls up my neck. My father sent me for flour, but this feels like punishment for walking out of bible study. Every step in town is a reminder of what I lost and of how quickly they turned on me.
And then I see Rhett leaning against his truck outside the hardware store.
His arms are crossed, muscles flexing against the rolled sleeves of his shirt.
He doesn’t move when I spot him. Doesn’t smile.
Just watches. I freeze, pulse tripping. I should keep walking.
Pretend I didn’t notice. But the moment stretches too long, and before I can stop myself, I’ve slowed.
“Juniper,” he says, voice low and rough.
I hate how my name sounds coming from him. Hate it and crave it.
I draw myself up, gripping the bag tighter. “Don’t. Not here.”
He pushes off the truck, closing the distance in slow strides. The crowd around us doesn’t matter anymore. It never does when Rhett looks at me like that.
“You know what I want,” he says, stopping just close enough that I feel his heat.
I swallow hard. “I’m not some prize you can just—”
“Prize?” His mouth twists. “No, Juniper. I’m not looking to win you. I’m taking what was already mine.” His gaze drags over me, heavy and scorching. “I want your time. Your presence. Your submission.”
The words land like blows. My chest heaves, shame burning hotter than the sun overhead. I dart a glance around, praying no one heard, but everyone’s too wrapped up in their errands. Still, the weight of the town presses down on me, the memory of Hilbert’s sermon still raw.
I shake my head, forcing out a bitter laugh. “You’re insane. You think I’d ever give you that?”
“You already are.” His eyes narrow, his voice softening into something darker, more certain. “You wouldn’t be shaking if you weren’t.”
My breath stutters, fury and humiliation tangling until I want to scream.
But behind all of it, the truth looms, ugly and suffocating.
My parents won’t protect me, the church will never forgive me, and Hilbert is circling closer every day.
And Rhett is the only one standing in the way. The only shield I have.
My throat tightens. I want to tell him no, want to shove him away, but the words die in my mouth. Because I know he’s right. And he knows I know.
“You’ll come to the ranch tomorrow. Help me work the new colts.”
A harsh laugh bursts out of me. “You think I’m just going to drop everything to play cowhand for you?”
“I don’t think, Juniper. I know.” His voice is soft, dangerous. “You’ll come, because you know what happens if you don’t. Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”
“You’re a bastard,” I whisper, blinking back tears.
“Maybe.” He steps closer, close enough that his shadow swallows mine, close enough that his voice vibrates through me. “But I’m the bastard who won’t let this town destroy you again.”
His hand brushes the grocery bag, steadying it when it nearly slips from my arms, a touch that feels more like a claim than kindness.
“Tomorrow morning,” he says, final and unyielding. “Be at my ranch. We’ll start with the colts.”
And just like that, he turns, leaving me standing in the middle of Main Street, heart pounding, groceries trembling in my grip. Because I know I’ll go. I hate him. God help me, I hate him. But he’s right. His blackmail is the only shield I have left.
The grocery bag feels heavier by the time I get home, like every whisper in town has been poured into it. I slam it on the counter harder than I mean to. My mother doesn’t look up from where she’s slicing carrots, but her mouth pinches tight, like I’ve embarrassed her simply by existing.
“Pastor Hilbert called and asked after you,” my mother says, her tone sharp with warning, not care. “He might stop by.”
My stomach twists so hard I almost gag. I don’t answer. Instead, I slip down the hall to my room, shutting the door like it could keep him out. The walls press too close, the air stale and heavy. The green dress is still draped over the chair, limp and waiting, a silent threat.
I’m trying to steady my breathing, pressing a fist to my mouth to hold back the rising panic, when a knock breaks the silence.
“Juniper?” His voice slides through the wood, smooth as oil. “I’d like to speak to you.”
My chest seizes. I stumble back, heart hammering, but the floorboard betrays me with a groan. The door creaks open as if I’ve welcomed him, though I haven’t moved an inch. And then he’s there.
“There she is.”
His eyes find me instantly, sharp and greedy, the same look that’s haunted me since the office door clicked shut behind us years ago. His smile stretches wide.
“Juniper, child. You ran out the other night before I could pray with you.”
My throat locks.
He means it. He means to corner me here, in my own house, in my own room, with my parents only steps away pretending not to hear and not to see.
The walls seem to shrink in tighter, my lungs struggling for air.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
And no one is going to stop him.
Again.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, smoothing his collar like he’s preparing to give another sermon, “that you need a guiding hand. A firm one.”
The air in my chest turns thick and tar-like. My fingers dig into the dresser at my side, grounding myself against the nausea rising fast in my throat.
“I’ve already spoken with your parents and they agree. The best thing for you is to move into town.”
My stomach pitches. No! The word pounds in my skull, but my tongue won’t work. I glance toward the door, hoping for my mother’s silhouette, for my father’s heavy tread. Nothing. Just silence and complicity.
Hilbert’s eyes sweep over me, sharp and appraising, like a butcher sizing up a cut of meat. His smile deepens, benevolent for anyone who doesn’t know better, but I know. God help me, I know.
“You’ll stay with me, of course,” he says. “Under my roof and under my care while I help you find your way back to the Lord.”
My breath stutters, coming too fast. He says it like salvation, but all I hear is a cage slamming shut.
Stay with him. In his house. Alone.
The room tilts, walls closing in, the green dress on the chair a silent witness to how easily they’ll hand me over. My parents didn’t argue. They didn’t protect me. They agreed.
Panic claws at my throat. I feel like I’m seventeen years old again, trapped in that office with his voice low and coaxing, telling me I was the sinner while he wore God’s armor.
“I…” The sound cracks, useless.
Hilbert tilts his head, watching me falter, and steps closer. Too close. His presence fills the room like smoke. “It’s the right path, child. You’ll see.”
My knees threaten to give, my fingernails biting crescents into the wood of the dresser.
Somehow, I manage to force the words out, my voice small and shaking. “I can’t.”
His brows lift, the corners of his mouth curving like I’ve given him the wrong answer in Sunday school.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
My throat tightens, but I push it again, stronger this time. “Can’t. I got a job on the Slade ranch and I start tomorrow.”
The moment Rhett’s name leaves my mouth, Hilbert’s smile falters. His eyes narrow, sharp and disapproving, like the syllables themselves are blasphemy.
“Your soul,” he says, his voice cutting sharper now, the oil stripped away to reveal something harsher underneath, “is more important than a job, Juniper Quinn.”
The way he says my name makes my skin crawl, like he’s trying to pin me to the floor with it. My stomach knots, shame pressing against my ribs, but beneath it all there’s a flicker of defiance. Because if Hilbert hates that I said Rhett’s name, then maybe that’s the only power I have left.
“Wayne. Hilary. Please come in here.”
The sound of my parents’ names in his mouth makes my stomach drop.
Their footsteps echo down the hall, and a second later they’re there—my father filling the doorway, my mother just behind him, her arms folded tight like she’s already bracing for shame.
For a fleeting moment, I feel like I can breathe.
Maybe, finally, they’ll see. Maybe they’ll stop him.
But Hilbert’s smile stretches wider as he gestures toward me like he’s presenting evidence. “Juniper is refusing to go along with our plan. Says she has a job.”
My father’s brow furrows, more irritation than concern. My mother won’t even look me in the eye. The air thickens and I press back against the dresser, nails biting into the wood.
My father says, “Job? You never said anything about a job.”
I answer, “I accepted the job while I was in town. It would be rude not to show up tomorrow.”
“Pastor Hilbert only wants what’s best for you. We do, too, which is why you’re going with him, job or not. You’ll just have to tell whoever hired you that it was a mistake.”
My chest hollows, ribs tightening until I can barely get a breath. My mother nods, lips pinched, like she’s agreeing with a sermon. The betrayal is sharp, familiar, and it carves me open all over again.
“Pack a bag, child, and we’ll be on our way,” Hilbert says, tone smooth and final, like the matter’s already settled.
My stomach lurches. “Now?”
“Now,” my father snaps, his voice a whip. “If you don’t go with him, then you’re not welcome under our roof.”
The words cut deep, but they don’t surprise me. They never wanted me back here. I’m just another stain they can’t scrub out.
Hilbert smiles, smug and self-satisfied, like a vulture settling in to feed.
The light from the hallway catches the sheen of his teeth, and I hate him so much in that moment it burns through my veins like acid.
Hate the way his eyes gleam like I’m already his.
Hate that my parents stand there silent, handing me over.
My throat tightens, my palms damp as I grip the dresser behind me for balance. The room feels smaller. I can almost hear the echo of the office door slamming shut all those years ago.
Hilbert tilts his head, mock-gentle. “Come now, Juniper. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Something inside me fractures—panic, rage, desperation—splintering through my ribs until I can barely stand. Because this is it. They’re really going to send me off with him. And no one is going to stop it.
But I can stop it.
Averting my gaze, I force the words past my dry throat. “I’d like to pack in peace.”
“Of course, child.” His smile curdles. “But don’t take too long.”
They leave without a backward glance, like I’m already gone.
The second their footsteps fade, I shove everything I came with back into my bag, clothes wrinkled, belongings jumbled.
My hands shake so badly the zipper jams twice before I force it closed.
I haven’t even been back a week, and already they’re throwing me away.
But I won’t go with that monster. I’d rather starve in my car.
Except when I slip outside through the back door, I find my car’s tires flat in the dirt as if they’ve been sliced.
Panic surges, but I don’t stop moving. My feet carry me to the barn so fast I nearly trip twice.
Honey huffs when I step inside, her ears flicking, big brown eyes soft and questioning.
“I know we haven’t ridden together in a long time and god knows I’ve gained weight,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing in the familiar musk of sweat and hay. “But I need you tonight.”
Her warm breath puffs against my cheek as if she understands. My hands work fast, clumsy but sure, sliding the worn bridle over her head, tightening the cinch on the old saddle that’s never felt more like salvation. My heart thunders in my chest as I lead her out.
I swing up onto her back, my pants snagging on the leather, my bag bouncing awkwardly against my hip.
“Go,” I murmur, nudging her sides. “Please, girl. Just go.”
Honey surges forward, hooves pounding against the dirt road. The wind tears at my hair and stings my eyes, but I don’t care. Tears stream hot down my face, my hands clutching the reins like a lifeline.
Behind me is Hilbert’s cage. My parents’ betrayal. A town that wants me broken.
Ahead Rhett’s land stretches out, dark and endless, the glow of his porch light faint in the distance like a beacon.
My chest caves as the truth hits me harder than the gallop of Honey’s hooves.
I’m not running away. I’m running to him.
And by the time I reach Rhett Slade’s ranch, I know I’ve already made my choice.
I’ve chosen ruin.