Page 47 of Dreams and Desires

“Well, I don’t believe you!” I fire back. “So just get lost, Zade.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I deserve that. But I’m not going anywhere this time. Not until you hear me out.”

“I’ve heard enough, Zade.” I say. The finality in my tone is undeniable.

His gaze drops to the floor, and for a moment, I think he might give up. But then he looks up, and there’s something fierce in his eyes. “I can’t change the past, but I can be here now. I can try to make things right.”

“Make things right?” I scoff, stepping back, away from him. “You don’t get it, do you? There’s nothing left to fix. You broke everything.”

He looks pained, but he doesn’t deny it. “I know. And I hate myself for it. ButI’m here now, Juniper. I’m here because I can’t lose you. I won’t go!”

“I’m done. This conversation is useless.” I snap. My voice is as cold as the wind outside. “You’re welcome to freeze out there if you want.”

His face falls, but he nods, his shoulders slumping like I just knocked the wind out of him. “I’ll stay. As long as it takes.”

He nods, sighs, and heads for the door. Just before stepping out, he pauses, glancing back at me, his eyes full of something I can’t quite place. But I don’t give a damn. I slam the door shut right in his face.

????????????????????

The hours crawl by, and the cabin is silent except for the fire crackling and the wind howling outside. I try to read, but the words don’t stick. I glance out the window and see Zade sitting in his car, not budging. Stubborn as always.

Night falls, and the snow starts coming down, covering the ground in white. I can see Zade’s breath fogging up the car windows. He’s probably shivering inside the car. Part of me wants him to suffer, to feel just a slice of the pain he’s caused. But another part of me can’t stand it.

I grab a warm blanket from the closet and head outside. The cold bites into me the second I step out, turning my breath into little puffs of mist. Zade looks up as I approach.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he rolls the car’s window down.

I toss the blanket at him. “Here. But don’t think for a second that I’m letting you in.”

He catches it and smiles. “Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket around himself.

“Don’t thank me,” I say, turning back to the cabin. “Goodnight, Zade. Enjoy the cold.”

Inside, I lock the door and turn off the lights, plunging the place into darkness. I sink down onto the floor in front of the fire, trembling, caught between anger and sadness. The flames dance, but their warmth doesn’t touch the cold that’s settled inside me.

The wind howls outside, and the snow is falling harder now. I imagine Zade huddled in his car, the blanket barely keeping the cold out. Part of me hopes he’ll give up and leave, but I know him too well. He’s too stubborn for that.

Time drags on, the night stretching out endlessly. My mind won’t stop replaying everything—every word, every look, every lie. I want to believe he cares for me, but how can I? How can I trust someone who’s done what he’s done?

The fire’s dying down, and I shiver, pulling my sweater tighter around me. I feel so alone, so completely lost. This cabin, Dominique’s secret hideaway, feels more like a cage than a refuge. I bury my face in my hands, the tears coming fast and hot.

“Why did you have to come back?” I whisper into the darkness, my voice barely holding together. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

I don’t even notice the tears until my eyes start to sting, my body giving in to the pull of sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zade

The next morning, I can see Juniper is still using the cabin as her personal fortress. She’s locked herself inside, and no matter how many times I knock, there’s no answer. I even had to take a piss in the damn forest. But I’m stubborn as hell. I’m not leaving until she talks to me.

Last night, she slipped me a blanket. She pretended it was nothing, but I know better. She cares—more than she’s willing to admit.

As the sun dips, the snow starts falling again. Just what I needed—another freezing night out here. Perfect.

I’m sitting in the car, and yeah, it’s as miserable as you’d expect when you’re stubborn enough to sleep in the middle of nowhere in the cold. The seat’s unforgiving, and the chill has stopped knocking. It’s inside now, slipping past my coat and settling deep in my joints.

Every now and then, I glance over at Juniper’s cabin, which stands stubbornly silent in the distance. The light from the windows flickers now and then, casting long, eerie shadowsover the snow-covered ground, and each flicker makes my heart tighten just a little more.

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