Page 45 of Dreams and Desires

I head straight to my suite, the silence in the car only amplifying the chaos in my head. When I get there, it’s like stepping into a pressure cooker; everything is too quiet and too tense. I pour myself a drink; the clink of ice against glass is the only sound in the room.

The doorbell rings, slicing through the quiet like a knife. I set the glass down, the liquid barely quivering, and move to answer the door. My movements are precise and deliberate, each step bringing me closer to the storm that’s about to break.

Brian enters with his usual smug confidence and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s like a shark disguised as a goldfish, pretending to be harmless while hiding the true danger beneath the surface. He extends a hand, but I ignore it, instead gesturing him toward the living room and the bar.

“Whiskey?” I offer, trying to act calm, betraying the intensity simmering beneath the surface.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Brian replies, his gaze lingering on the bottles lining the bar. “Something strong, I hope?”

I pour him a measure of my finest single malt. “Only the best for special occasions,” I say, handing him the glass. The sound of our glasses clinking is subtle, but it’s the first move in the duel about to take place.

Brian takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, every word oozes fake curiosity.

“This isn’t a social visit, Brian,” I state, my tone cold as I step closer, invading his personal space to assert control. “It’s about Juniper.”

The mention of her name causes a flicker of something in Brian’s eyes—a tightening at the corners of his mouth, a slight stiffening of his posture. But he recovers quickly, his smirk returning. “What about her?” he asks, trying to maintain his composure.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I press, my voice low and menacing. “Why did you drag her into this?”

His smirk widens, and there is a nasty glint in his eyes. “She was the perfect scapegoat,” he says with a shrug. “Elections are coming up, and people weren’t too happy knowing I was in bed with you. But you were giving her so much attention, and she convinced the town you’d pulled out of the resort deal. So, I used her.”

My hands curl into fists, and my knuckles turn white. “She’s not collateral, Brian.”

He laughs—a harsh, grating sound that makes my blood boil. “She is collateral, Zade. That’s all she ever was. I can get you ten girls like her, even younger ones. She’s just an old maid now.”

The casual cruelty in his words sends a surge of anger through me, but I keep my voice steady, my tone turning icy. “If you ever talk about her like that again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

For a moment, the smirk falters, but Brian quickly regains his composure. “Come on, Zade. It’s just business.”

I step even closer, my gaze piercing through him. “This isn’t just business, Brian. It’s personal. And if you don’t help me find her and clear her name, I’ll destroy you. You won’t just lose the election—you’ll lose everything.”

He stares at me, my threat sinking in. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Zade,” he mumbles, sounding less cocky now.

I don’t back down. “A game you started, Brian. I’m just finishing it.”

The silence between us is charged with unspoken threats and the understanding that there’s no going back from this. Brian sets his drink down; his face pales, and the smirk is completely gone now. Without another word, he turns and leaves, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as the door clicks shut behind him.

I leanagainst the door, closing my eyes for a moment, to absorb the gravity of everything that just happened. The stakes are high, higher than they’ve ever been, but I’m committed. For Juniper’s sake, I’ll play this game to the bitter end. There’s no turning back now.

Chapter Twenty-One

Zade

The next morning, I’m driving through the streets of Cody, and every corner feels like a punch to the gut. The town’s small, but it’s packed with memories of Juniper. The café where we met? It’s right there, mocking me. The bookstore where I bought those books for her, thinking it’d make her laugh—she’s not there either. It’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Her laugh, her voice—they're all over this damn town, haunting me, but she’s gone.

Finally, after hours of driving around, I reach the hospital. I park and head to the bench, the one where Juniper and her brother sat—when I gave them a lift on that rainy evening.

I sit down, closing my eyes, and let the memories flood in. I miss her—her smile, her innocence, her vulnerability.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice Dominique until she sits right opposite me on the bench. She doesn’t say anything at first, just sits there like she’s supposed to be part of the scenery.

Dominique’s eyes lock onto mine, the anger radiating off her in waves. “I figured I’d find you here when Jacob mentioned you were back in town,” she grits out, her voice taut, barely containing the storm raging beneath her forced composure.

“Dominique,” I say quietly. I’m not sure if I’m saying hello or bracing for the fallout. But the second her name is out, the room feels different.

She doesn’t hold back. “What you did to Juniper, Zade... You’re worse than everyone else in this town. Sixteen years ago, they broke her, and now you just threw her back into the fire. You gave her hope, only to rip it away. You used her, kept her dangling with promises of a connection while my pathetic excuse for a husband did your dirty work. Are you really that low, Zade?”

“I’m sorry,” I manage to say, but the words taste bitter and empty.

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