26. In Which Aiden Loses Shakespeare #3
Juniper and I sit on the stairs, watching the hubbub in decidedly different states of mind.
She’s somehow half crying, half dozing, so I’ve got her propped against me, her head on my shoulder.
I’ve already talked to Garrity, and Juniper has spoken to him too, though she didn’t have a ton to offer.
I’m not sure how much she’ll remember of this when she wakes up and the sleep medicine has worn off.
For now I think she just needs to rest. Turn her off and then turn her back on again in order to get her functioning again.
Maybe put her in a vat of rice if she can’t stop crying. ? *
When Lionel finally approaches us, though, I nudge her with my elbow. “Juniper,” I say.
“Hmm?” she says into my shoulder.
“Wake up.”
She sits up slowly, her eyes bleary as she looks at me. I point to Lionel, who’s standing in front of us at the base of the stairs.
One of the men behind him passes him a large manila envelope, which he in turn holds out to Juniper.
“You are, I’m sorry to say, my niece,” he says.
She blinks at him, taking the envelope. “No need to be rude,” she says, her voice slurring slightly.
And for the first time since I’ve met him, a tiny smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “I simply meant that the circumstances were unfortunate.”
“The fruit of his womb,” Juniper mutters, letting her head drop back onto my shoulder.
One of Lionel’s brows hitches. “I’m sorry?”
“She’s not entirely lucid,” I say. “And she’s having trouble processing the events of the night. It would probably be best if you spoke again at a later date.”
He nods, looking frankly relieved, before turning and striding off, down the hallway and out the front door. His bevy of legal minions follows, their shoes clicking on the wood floor.
I turn to my very drowsy girlfriend. “Let’s put you to bed,” I say with a sigh.
Matilda calls Juniper the next day. I call in sick, lying through my teeth—though to be fair, if we were able to acknowledge the need for mental health days, I wouldn’t have to be so dishonest.
Juniper puts the phone on speaker as soon as she answers.
We’re curled up on the couch together, pretending to read our own separate books while secretly stealing glances at each other.
I’m captivated by the shadow Juniper’s lashes cast over her cheeks when she’s looking down at the book in her lap, and I can’t quite look away.
“Hi, Matilda,” Juniper says into the speaker, sounding tired. She shuts her book without marking the page, and I do the same with mine.
“Juniper,” Matilda says in a nasally voice. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”
“Yeah,” Juniper says. “Sorry. It’s been a bit crazy. What’s up?”
“What do you mean, what’s up? You asked me to see what I could find about some guy named Cam Verido. I asked around.”
These words manage to pull my attention away from Juniper’s lashes; I look at the phone in her hand. Her body stiffens against me, and she straightens up.
“Okay,” she says, her voice quivering slightly. “Did you find anything?”
“I did, actually,” Matilda says. “He lives super close to you. You’re in Autumn Grove, right?”
“Mmm.”
“Next to your town is a town called Sunshine Springs. He lives there. 405 Atlas? * Lane, Sunshine Springs?—”
“What?” Juniper says, cutting her off. “Say that again.”
“The address? 405 Atlas Lane.”
Juniper’s eyes flutter closed, and my heart stutters; that address clearly means something to her. “Thanks, Matilda,” she says. “Anything else? Job or family or anything?”
“He’s a social worker,” Matilda says. “Wife and two kids. That’s all I was able to find.”
But Juniper is already nodding. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
They say goodbye and then hang up.
“You know that address,” I say. It’s not a question.
“I do,” she says quietly, her gaze far away. “I send him a Christmas letter every year.” Then she turns her head to look at me. “My case worker. Cameron, I’ve always called him.”
I blink at her. “Your—what? Your case worker?”
She nods. “He settled me in my foster home, kept in touch, checked in on me.”
Her case worker? He was her case worker? What are the odds of that? What are the odds of him being nearby the whole time? Minimal, right?
“But…” I trail off, frowning as I think. “Why didn’t you recognize his name? Or his face in the yearbook?”
She shrugs, her shoulders brushing against my chest. “We called him Mr. V. I didn’t put those pieces together. And he looks different than he did in high school, but—” She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen him in years. Since my senior year.”
“How did that happen?” I say, my mind working through possibilities.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll write him and ask. Later, maybe.” Then she pats my leg. “Want to help me research something for my book?”
“Don’t you want to know?” I say with surprise.
“I do, yeah,” she says. She swallows. “But not right this second. I can’t process anything else at the moment. I’ll write him a letter tonight.”
That’s fair. So I raise my eyebrows at her. “What’s the book research this time?”
“Zip ties,” she says with a little grin. “Escaping zip ties.”
I laugh. “Tempting.” I pause, then go on, “Is there romance in this book?”
“Of course,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I don’t write books without romance in them.”
“Silly me,” I say. “Then let’s research that instead.”
“What, romance?” she says, and her smile widens.
“Romance,” I say, leaning in for a kiss. I press my lips to hers, threading my fingers into her pink hair.
She laughs before kissing me back.
I don’t know what the coming days will hold. I don’t know how Juniper is going to make peace with all the things that have happened over the last month. But I’ll be by her side through it all.
My fate.
* ? I wrote this dialogue exactly the way it would play out if I were the one being threatened.
* ? I may or may not have stolen this quote directly from my four-year-old shouting at my six-year-old when the six-year-old burst in the bathroom without knocking first.
* ? I definitely giggled writing this.
* ? My dog’s name!