Chapter Ten
Elias
I should feel good this morning. The firewood is stacked high, the storm’s passed, and the cabin smells like cinnamon and pine. But I don’t, I feel like shit.
I’m in town, without Juniper, and it doesn’t feel right. I’m halfway through loading supplies into the truck when Dottie corners me behind the general store. She steps out of the back door like she’s been lying in wait, arms crossed, apron dusted with flour, and a scowl that could level mountains.
“That girl has been walking around with her heart in her hands since the day she arrived,” she says, voice low and fierce. “And you, Elias Boone, are doing a damn fine job of stomping on it.”
I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.
“Don’t even try it. You think the whole town hasn’t noticed the way she looks at you? The way you look at her when you think no one’s watching? You might be able to fool yourself, but you’re not fooling us.”
“It’s not that simple,” I mutter.
“It never is,” she snaps. “You think love is some neat, easy thing you can schedule around your grief? You think you’ll get a perfect moment when you feel brave enough?
You won’t. You either grab it while it’s there, or you lose it.
And right now, you’re about to lose the best damn thing that’s happened to you in years. ”
She steps closer and pokes a finger into my chest.
“Fix it. Before she walks away for good.”
I rub my jaw, feeling the weight of her words. She’s not wrong. I’ve been hiding, telling myself I don’t deserve more, telling myself I can’t want her, but I do. I think I’ve known that since the day she arrived with her bright eyes and ridiculous purple suitcases.
Back at the cabin, Wren’s in the kitchen, slicing apples for a pie Juniper promised to help her bake later.
There are bowls out, cinnamon on the counter, and her sketchbook open beside the recipe.
She’s humming to herself. Something soft and familiar.
It’s the same song I hear from Juniper when she’s working in the kitchen.
I nod and reach for the coffee. She doesn’t look up.
“You’re an idiot, you know.”
I freeze mid-pour. “What did you say?”
She finally looks at me, arching one unimpressed brow. “You heard me.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Why? So I don’t say something true?” she shoots back.
I sigh and lean against the counter. “This isn’t your business.”
“Juniper made me a list of possible Halloween costumes and asked if I wanted to carve a giant jack-o’-lantern with her.
She gave me a better pillow because she thought I didn’t sleep well on mine.
She’s trying so hard to make this feel like a home, and all you do is scowl and pretend nothing matters. ”
“You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?” Wren says, slamming the knife down. “She’s kind. She listens. She doesn’t push. You’re pushing her away like you do everyone else. If she leaves, it’s on you.”
“She’s not leaving.”
Wren crosses her arms. “Wanna bet? Because I heard her crying in the bedroom this morning.”
Her words hit me like a fist to the chest. I close my eyes, exhale slowly. “What do you want me to do, Wren?”
“I want you to stop being a coward.”
Her voice breaks a little, and when I glance at her again, I realize she’s not just angry. She’s scared. Scared she’s finally found something steady, someone steady, and it’s about to fall apart.
“She makes everything better,” Wren says softly. “Don’t ruin that.”
I nod, throat tight. I head down the hall and knock once on the bedroom door. Then again. I don’t wait for an answer.
Juniper’s there, suitcase on the bed. Clothes folded neatly inside. Her hands are shaking.
“What are you doing?”
She doesn’t look at me. “Packing.”
I step inside, close the door behind me. “Why?”
She finally turns. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “Because I can’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
“That’s not true.”
“You told someone last night this marriage is just for Wren. That I was just a solution.”
“Juniper—”
“Don’t.” She swallows hard. “I let myself believe it was more. That we were becoming more, but you keep making it clear we’re not.”
I take a step closer. “I didn’t mean it.”
She laughs. It’s brittle and quiet. “You didn’t mean it, but you said it, and you keep acting like everything between us doesn’t matter.”
“It does. It matters more than anything else.”
She blinks at me. “Then do something about it.”
I look at her—really look at her. This bright, brave, ridiculous woman turned my silent cabin into a home. She made Wren smile and made me feel again.
My chest cracks wide open.
“I’m in love with you,” I say.
She stares at me.
“It terrifies me,” I admit. “I’ve lost so much already. I don’t know how to be the man you deserve, but I want to try if you’ll let me.”
Her lower lip trembles. She takes a step forward, then another. Her arms wrap around my middle, and she presses her face into my chest.
“Okay,” she whispers.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I haven’t screwed everything up after all.