Chapter Eleven
We troop back to the car, our footsteps heavy as we cross the gritted road, away from the cosy Snowcap Café and back into the dark and cold and quiet.
Juniper climbs into the back seat, and Ethan joins me in the front, where we wait in awkward silence for the car to warm up and the windows to defrost.
Once the windscreen clears, I grip the steering wheel with trembling hands.
Then I take a breath, press the pedal, and drive.
Right now, I just need to get us back home.
Only we’re not going home. And nothing is as it was.
It’s all so messy. It doesn’t feel like a holiday; it feels like more chaos, which is exactly what we were trying to escape.
Juniper navigates from the backseat, giving the bare minimum when it comes to directions. A “left up here” and a “right at the end” and nothing more.
I concentrate on the road while Ethan looks out his window, turned away from us both to stare instead at everything we’re leaving behind.
Maybe we don’t work as a three in the real world after all.
The headlights score a path ahead, two swirling white cones pinning their gaze on the winding mountain roads. The glittering scenery from our journey down is consumed by the dark of night, shrouded in secrecy and now sorely lost.
I heave a long sigh, and in the silence that follows, Junipers asks, “So, that’s it?”
I glance at her in the rear-view mirror, and her face pales against the shadows.
“This is just over between us?” she asks.
I swallow hard. “I just—” Fuck. I don’t know why it matters so much to me, but— “I just thought what we had was … special,” I say, my voice cracking as I realise how totally pathetic that sounds. I’m a grown-ass adult, for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t be moping over something so … short-lived.
Juniper looks down, and I try to keep my gaze fixed on the road.
“It was special,” she insists, in such a small, sad voice, it breaks my heart. “It is special,” she continues. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but … you guys are special to me.”
Ethan won’t meet my gaze.
“But you’ve done this before?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “You’ve been with guests at the cabin?”
“Yes,” she admits, her voice watery.
God, why does this hurt so much? But I can’t help thinking …
“I was terrified you’d think we were using you.
” All my insecurities rush back. “I was beside myself, thinking I’d come off like some sort of predator, asking you to stay to live out some kind of …
bisexual fantasy for me.” My eyes water, and I try to focus on the road instead of the turmoil inside this car.
“But it wasn’t like that.” I keep going, desperate to explain.
“I knew I liked you. I knew we liked you, and you said you liked us back. But now it all feels so … tainted.”
Juniper leans forwards, placing a hand on my shoulder and I can’t help but relax at her touch.
“I know it wasn’t like that,” she says softly.
“Listen.” She leans back again, and I miss her warmth.
“I told you I’d had a threesome before. I told you I knew I was bi when I was a teenager.
I told you how many people I’ve slept with.
I told you things I’ve never told anyone else. ”
I nod, absorbing her words.
“And when I told you I liked you, I meant it.”
“Okay,” I reply, my heart still heavy.
“And so what if I’ve done it before?”
My stomach churns at the thought.
“It doesn’t make what we have any less special.”
Ethan huffs, breaking the fragile moment between us. “So we’re not just an easy target for you to get your rocks off?” His voice is laced with anger. “Is that your thing? Seducing married couples?”
I recoil at his vehemence.
“What? No! How could you even say that?” Juniper’s voice rises, a mix of shock and hurt in her words.
I reach for Ethan’s arm, but he pulls away. “Ethan.”
“No, Mia. This is fucked up.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I argue, desperately. We’re just jealous. I was just jealous. I can see that now.
“Um … it’s a right here,” Juniper says gently.
I keep driving, my focus split.
“Mia. It’s right here.”
“What was that?” I blink, searching for the turn.
“Go right!” she calls, her arm reaching through the gap between the seats.
“Oh, shit.” I slam on the brakes, but it’s too late. The tires lock, and we skid past the turn. In a panic, I yank the steering wheel, but it only makes things worse.
We’re flung to one side then lurch to the other, the car zig-zagging then sliding out of control towards the trees.
Oh my god. We’re going to crash.
I shriek.
Juniper screams.
Ethan grabs the wheel and—
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
We stop.
The car settles on the other side of the road, and when I look up—and realise we’re all fine, and still alive—I start to laugh.
I grow hysterical, even.
Thankfully, there’s no traffic. Just one long stretch of road, a dotted line to my right, and a wall of trees on the left. I sit back, taking a breath then wheezing, brought to tears by a fleeting thought. “Look Ethan,” I warble. “It’s like we’re back home.”
My cheeks are wet, and I must look a right mess.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asks me softly, and I smile, wiping my eyes.
“I’m okay.”
He twists in his seat. “Juniper? Are you all right?”
I catch her gaze in the mirror as she answers, “I’m fine.” She blinks back at Ethan. “But um … we really should be on the other side of the road.”
I nod, pulling off, ever so carefully, and venturing back to the other side.
We reach the cabin unscathed—physically, at least—and I pull up outside.
Ethan unclicks his seatbelt then turns to face Juniper. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”
I also swivel in my seat then add, “I’m sorry too.”
She looks from Ethan to me and back again. Then she shrugs. “I’m sorry three.”
The tiniest of smiles tugs at Ethan’s lips as we ascend the steps, our heavy boots pressing into each other’s prints.
On the top deck, I hurry to let us in, ditching my coat and boots. I instinctively cross the living room to switch on the nearest lamp, but—
“Oh.” I wince. “Right.”
“No power.” Ethan groans.
“Yeah,” Juniper says. “Kinda forgot about that.”
I sigh, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. “I’m gonna go to bed. We can sort this out in the morning?”
“Yeah,” Ethan agrees. But as we head down the corridor, Juniper doesn’t follow.
“Juniper?” I stall, my hand holding Ethan back.
“I think I’m gonna take the couch tonight,” she says, and Ethan and I exchange glances.
“Okay,” I say. “As long as you’re okay.”
She nods, pulling the fur blanket over to the sofa. “I’m okay.”
Ethan squeezes my palm. “We’re all okay,” he says gently, leading us back to our bedroom, where our bed waits for us bathed in moonlight, like it was the night before—and the night before that.
The next day, the morning sun streams through the window, its glittering shine mottled by the fresh falling snow.
Heh. Who needs lamps?
I can’t believe how beautiful this place is.
I stretch, feeling the soft sheets against my skin. Ethan is propped up on one elbow, watching me with a warm smile.
“Good morning,” he says, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
“Morning.” I sit up, the warmth of the covers slipping away. “How did you sleep?”
“Better than I expected,” he replies.
“Yeah?”
He nods. “I’ve been thinking … about last night.”
I take a deep breath. “Me too.” I look down. “I know things got pretty intense.”
“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Yeah, they did. But I’ve been wondering—does it really matter that Juniper has a past? Just because she’s done this before doesn’t mean what we had wasn’t fun, right? It doesn’t change how special it felt to us?”
I nod, a weight lifting from my chest. “It was definitely fun.” Warmth floods my cheeks at the memories of our recent sexcapades. “I think maybe I was just scared?”
“Scared of what?” he prompts gently, his gaze steady.
“Oh, I dunno.” I sigh, my voice softening. “Scared of being used? Of being just another notch on someone’s bedpost. Of using her.” I frown. “But I realise now I was projecting my fears onto her. It wasn’t like that at all.”
Ethan reaches out, taking my hand in his. “It was amazing,” he says. “Magical, even.”
I grin, having thought the exact same. “Right.” I squeeze his hand with a surge of relief. “What we shared with Juniper that night was real,” I say. “Really real,” I add with a giggle, and Ethan throws me a sidelong glance.
Leaning in, I kiss him softly then pull back. “I think we should talk to her about it. Clear the air, y’know?”
“Let’s do it,” he says, his wide smile mirroring my own.
We swing our legs over the side of the bed, and I buzz with a renewed energy as we get ready together.
I can’t wait to see her again. For a second, I consider nipping back to make Juniper a coffee or hot chocolate to really apologise and make up for what was said.
But then I remember—still no fucking power.
Once we’re dressed, Ethan and I chase each other down the hall, laughter echoing as we enter the living room. But—
“Juniper?” I call, glancing around. Ethan looks as perplexed as I am. Where is she?
The sunlight bathes the open space in a burning gold, highlighting two pairs of boots by the door. Two coats. And one blanket neatly folded on the arm of the sofa.
The room is empty.
Juniper’s gone.