21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Juniper
T he Elk’s Head was silent save for the sounds of plastic containers popping open and forks clanking on plates. It made me want to grab a chair, shatter the window beside me, and run outside to retreat into the forest of pines as the snow fell in light flakes. Maybe the elk along the edge of the trees would accept me as one of their own, or maybe they’d maul me in the gut with their massive antlers and put me out of my misery.
Either scenario would be preferable to whatever this was at the table. Once Rachel passed a container of orange chicken to my dad, he started humming to fill the silence. My mother, who poked and prodded at her food more than she actually ate it, looked like someone shat on her plate.
Maybe someone should.
“So,” my dad said, “you’re both living here?”
There was a pause as Rachel and I both finished chewing our food. I beat her to it. “For now.”
Mom reached a hand toward me, but then withdrew the moment she saw my scowl. “Oh, honey. Do you need money?”
“No, I’ve got plenty.”
“But you’ve been out of work for so long.”
“Yeah, and even with all of this, I saved up more than enough,” I reminded her.
My mother and father knew my years of snowboarding were excessively lucrative, but I never disclosed exactly how much I made once I turned eighteen and took control of my finances. I didn’t take kindly to being treated as a retirement plan instead of as a human being, so while I made sure they were more than comfortable, my money was ultimately mine. Dad understood. Mom complained but ultimately sucked it up when she realized she had no choice.
So, the usual.
“It’s easier for me to stay here with everything going on.” I didn’t bother to correct the shortness with which I spoke. “When Rachel started, I offered her the same since she moved cross-country. Figured it would help her get started as soon as possible.”
“What about when you open?” Mom shook her head. “You really want guests to know where you live?”
“It’s not like they know my room number,” I said as I shifted how I sat, spreading my knees so my hips would be more comfortable. My hip popped in the process, and I couldn’t help the groan of relief. “And people hunt me down with cameras no matter where I live, so I don’t see a difference either way. I’ll let Rachel speak for herself, though.”
“We took the rooms out of the inventory count and can always factor them back in if we move out once things calm down for us. But for now, it’s fine. I’m actually really glad Juniper let me stay here since, as he said, it was one less thing to worry about.”
“I’m glad you’re here, too,” I said, softer than I was moments ago—a softness reserved for Rachel and only for Rachel. “You’ve definitely left your mark on the place for the better.”
Mom’s lips tried to contort in a frown, but she’d had too much Botox done for it to have the effect she wanted. “I mean, it’s great you have an employee here to help, Junebug. But you have an entire career waiting for you to come back to. You can get a cute apartment, leave this behind, and get back to it. Rachel seems smart, so she’d be able to either take over or find work easily if she had to.”
Under her breath, Rachel said, “As a bookkeeper, I’m sure.”
I placed a hand on Rachel’s thigh, hoping it reassured her. “Do you even hear yourself? That would be awful. Besides, wherever I go, she’s coming with me.” I glanced at her to shoot her a wink. She smiled in response, a blush overcoming her cheeks as she cast her gaze on her plate.
My mother wasn’t having it. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
Mom rose a brow. “Are you saying she’s your girlfriend?”
I didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah. She is. Was that not abundantly clear?”
Mom leaned back in her chair, no longer interested in her food—not that she ever was. “Is this why you bought the lodge? To settle down and take it easy?”
“What? No. And even if I had, this isn’t exactly a cakewalk.”
“Listen, Junebug—”
I groaned and ran my hand over my face, feeling like I was walking on a tightrope that was ready to snap at any moment. “Jesus Christ, enough with the Junebug.”
“I’m just saying that it’s been, what, almost five years now? Maybe you should focus on your snowboarding career again.”
As I redid the half-bun my hair was in, my brows furrowed, and the frown deepened on my lips. All the tension gave me a headache. “There is no more snowboarding career.”
“It’s not too late to get back on, sweetheart.” She replied so quickly it was like she hadn’t even heard me. “I’m sure everyone would welcome you back with open arms.”
“I’m never getting back on.”
She tutted her tongue. “There’s no need for that.”
More firmly, I repeated, “I’m never getting back on. Do you not hear me? I never can get back on a board. Doctor’s orders. If I do, I can kiss the progress I made in physical therapy goodbye.”
The silence hung over the room, seeping into all of my pores. I couldn't tell if Mom was enraged, confused, or both. “What?”
“Sorry, Mom, but your son is disabled. You’ve had four years to get used to that now. It’s time to come to terms with it.”
My mother looked like someone shot her in the heart. “Don’t say that, Juniper.”
“What, disabled? Why not? I didn’t realize it was a dirty word. Sure, it sucks I’m in some sort of pain more often than not, and I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. But just because I can’t snowboard anymore doesn’t mean my life is over.”
My eyes glanced at Rachel next to me before returning to my plate, where I speared a lone piece of broccoli with my fork with a bit too much force; the fork clanged against the plate. Rachel caught the look and responded silently, placing her hand on my knee. The weight of her touch and the warmth of her palm through my jeans grounded me in my chair and reminded me she was here and by my side. I moved my hand on her leg to place it on top of her own hand, holding it in place. Soon, Sasquatch joined the party, propping his head up on my leg.
“I have this place and Rachel and Sasquatch. All of them need me to some degree, and I gotta say, it feels pretty fucking good to be needed. Legitimately needed. And it’s mutual because I need them too, but there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s the hand I was dealt. It’s about time we all accept it.”
My mother scoffed. “Come on. I bet Rachel would love to see you ride. Wouldn’t you, Rachel?”
Rachel’s eyebrows shot up as she puffed up her cheeks and exhaled. “Absolutely not. Not if it would hurt him. He’s thirty years old, he can do what he wants.” She shrugged a shoulder. “And not for nothing, but I don’t know anything about snowboarding, so it’s not like I have a horse in that race, anyway. If I ever really want to, I’ll go on YouTube. I’m sure there are some compilation videos or something, right?”
I could kiss her right here and now.
“Probably,” I said. “There’s a ton of footage out there.”
“See?” Rachel said with a smile. She twirled some lo mein noodles on her fork and then popped it in her mouth with another shrug and nothing more to say.
My savior sat there, chewing her vegetables and noodles, unbothered as my mother gawked. The catch was that Rachel was so polite about it that no one could say anything back. Four months ago, I hated that fake customer service voice she put on in situations like this, but I was grateful for it now. There was only room for two attitudes at this table, and my mother and I both filled those slots with ease. Now, I understood Rachel used her words as a weapon as well as I did, but differently.
“I suppose so,” Mom said. “Sorry, I’m surprised is all.”
“What did you expect, then?” I set my fork down, my appetite long gone. While my medication helped me stress less, it didn’t make me immune to aggravation. “Did you expect to come here and see me on the half-pipe, or what? You know, my health aside, I haven’t been on a snowboard in years. What makes you think this time would be any different?”
“I thought that maybe you would have gotten over it by now!”
“I would, but I’m very comfortable under this blanket of self-pity. Don’t mind me wallowing in my misery for a while longer.” I rolled my eyes. “You really think I chose this? No, but I made the best of it.”
The heavy silence hung over us once more, save for the sound of silverware. It felt too loud, the clanging of plates and knives as my father cut into a piece of orange chicken ringing in my ears. The piece of chicken in question didn’t even need to be cut, a bite-sized piece I knew wasn’t a problem for him. It was something to focus on other than the settling dust.
To clear my mind, I focused on Rachel. Just looking at her made my heart lurch in my chest. I didn’t want it to look like I was staring, so I looked only from my peripheral, but it was enough for me to spot all her little tells I’d picked up on: the light tapping of her foot, the way she tucked her curls behind her ear, and fidgeting with the emerald ring on her right hand. It was either a birthstone or an heirloom, I wagered. I’d never asked her about it. I should.
For as much as Rachel said moments like this and the bullshit with the paparazzi didn’t bother her, I suspected it was a front. At first, I thought I might be projecting my own feelings onto her, but those nervous ticks gave it away. While I appreciated her trying to be brave for the both of us, I didn’t want her to bear that burden alone. The love I felt for her scared the hell out of me, but I wanted to wrap her in it all the same.
I wished it was enough to protect her from everyone who might do or say something stupid or horrible.
In the four years since my accident, I’d experienced my fair share of ableism: nothing life-threatening, but inconveniences and grievances all the same. But Rachel had been Jewish her whole life, which meant nearly three decades of comments not much better than the ones my mother made today. She’d had enough of it that she had her go-to jokes to diffuse the situation and dismiss her pain.
Maybe instead of breaking the window and running into those woods alone, I’d take her with me. In my fantasy scenario, I’d grab her hand and run until we were in the depths of the trees where I could do nothing but kiss her until there was no air in my lungs and love her until my heart gave out.
And to my surprise, it was Rachel—my brilliant, sweet Rachel—who broke the silence, pushing any lingering doubts aside in her mind as she looked at me like we were the only two people in the room. Her warm gaze felt like sitting by a fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and ready to weather the storm.
“Say, Juniper, did I tell you about the email I got this morning?”
I shook my head. “No. Who’s it from?”
“You know that tabloid magazine that ran all those stories about us? The reporter behind them actually apologized. Said he saw the feature that LeAnn ran on Action 6 and felt guilty about reducing me to… well, that.”
I smiled. “No shit?”
“Right? I had to refresh my inbox a few times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.”
“Hopefully, he’ll leave us alone from now on, but I’m not about to hold my breath.”
“What do you wanna bet his girlfriend or mom or someone railed into him for being sexist?” Rachel smirked. I couldn’t guess why she was bringing this up now, but there was no way she didn’t have something up her sleeve.
“Probably.”
“Well, Rachel, your outfit was a little risqué,” my mother said.
But Rachel, instead of fighting back or arguing, smirked. What the hell was she smirking for?
“So, you’ve read them,” she said, no differently than she would have commented on the weather outside. “The tabloids, that is. You read them?”
Oh .
Now I understood.
“It’s the only way to see what he’s up to these days,” Mom justified. “If he called every once in a while—”
“Yeah, I’m definitely not going to be doing that anymore,” I said. “Is this why you’re here? Trying to scope out what Rachel and I are up to?”
“I keep telling you to stop buying that crap,” Dad said. “Seriously, Veronica?”
Before we could say anything else, I caught some movement in my peripheral. At first, I thought it was just the elk outside, but the unmistakable flash of a camera followed. It made me squint.
“What the fuck?” I looked at my mother. “Did you call them here?”
She scoffed. “Of course not!” But she wouldn’t look me in the eye as she said it, instead keeping her focus on her plate.
“You’re lying.”
“Veronica?” My dad frowned. “What did you do?”
“I’ll handle it,” Rachel offered. “If you’ll excuse me.” She stood before I could protest, kissed the top of my head, and then made her way out the back of the restaurant.
“Well, at least now we can talk without her,” Mom said.
“What on Earth could we possibly have to talk about?” I asked. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Instead of looking at her, I watched for Rachel outside. Before she emerged, I could feel my hip lock up, so I shifted in my seat to force it to crack and stay loose. When she approached the photographer, he lowered his camera. They shook hands, and then Rachel crossed her arms as they spoke. I couldn’t make out what they said, but at one point, they both laughed at a joke I couldn’t hear. The photographer did something with his camera, then showed her something on it before he went on his way. After that, Rachel came back inside.
I envied her way with words. Had it been me to go out, I couldn’t promise myself that I wouldn’t have verbally assaulted him. I was never the violent type or one to throw a punch, but my words were rough enough to make up for it.
“Well, that’s settled,” Rachel said as she came back into the kitchen. “He was super nice. Apparently, someone tipped him off that there might be a snowboarding comeback. I wonder who.” Rachel shot a pointed look at my mother as she took her plate. “Not sure about y’all, but I’m finding myself without an appetite.”
I stood with my plate. “Yeah, that makes two of us. Come on, Squatch.”
Sasquatch slid his chin off my thigh and emerged from beneath the table to follow us out of the restaurant. My dad wasn’t far behind, either, leaving my mother at the table alone.
“I am so sorry,” Dad said. “I didn’t know. If I’d even had an inkling, I swear to you, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m not mad at you.”
“We… haven’t been doing well.” He exhaled, like the confession alone was a weight off his chest. “We miss you, sure, but there’s more to this with her and I can’t figure it out.”
Rachel frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Hart.”
“Rachel, please, just Drew is fine. I feel awful.”
“It’s not your fault,” I reiterated. “You can’t control her. We can only control ourselves.”
“And besides, it’ll be fine. I’ve gotten some control on the narrative at the end of the day.” She sighed. “He deleted the photos for me, too. So it all worked out.”
“How’d you manage that one?” Dad asked.
“Turns out his girlfriend was in the same sorority I was. Same chapter and everything. Once I introduced myself with my full name, he recognized it.”
“Small world, huh?” My dad chuckled. “I’ll talk to Veronica later. Rachel, you’re lovely. You clearly make my son happy. Now, not to embarrass you,” he said as he looked at me, and then back to Rachel, “but I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. All I care about is that the two of you are happy.” He patted my shoulder. “And I’m proud of you. I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable enough to come to us about what happened after the accident, but I understand why.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Of course. We’ll talk more later.”
I wanted to catch his ear more: about what he meant exactly by him and Mom not doing well, about what he planned to do next, about what he’d say to her. We’d have our chance, I was sure, and while I didn’t mind if Rachel heard whatever it was he’d say, I knew my dad well enough to know he was just as private as I could be.
“Anyway, we should check in on her,” Dad said. “Or do we need to go to the lobby for that?”
I rolled my eyes. “I see what you did there.”
“Come on, sport. Let’s get this over with.”