Page 50 of Dreams and Desires

Just as I’m about to reach out to help her, I hear footsteps. I turn to see Juniper rushing out of the cabin, her face etched with concern and her eyes locked on the deer.

“Bambi!” she calls out as she kneels beside the doe. Her hands move with practiced care, and I can’t help but notice how she seems to know exactly what to do.

I stand there, feeling awkward and a bit useless, still holding my shirt in one hand. “I was just about to help her,” I say, my voice trailing off as I realize how lame that sounds compared to Juniper’s quick action.

Juniper doesn’t even look up at me. “We need to get this wire off her leg, or she’s going to lose a lot of blood,” she says, her tone calm but urgent. There’s a gentleness in her. movements as she examines the injury, and I can see her hands trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the cold and the gravity of the situation.

I swallow hard, feeling a mix of admiration and helplessness. “What can I do?” I ask, wanting to be of some use.

Juniper finally glances at me, her eyes softening just a fraction. “Hold her still. She’s in pain, and if she tries to move, it’s going to make things worse.”

I nod and kneel beside the doe, gently placing my hands on her neck to keep her calm. The doe’s body is trembling under my touch, and I can feel her rapid heartbeat through my fingers. She’s scared, but Juniper’s presence seems to soothe her, and I’m just grateful to be helping in some way.

Juniper works quickly, using a small knife she’s pulled from her pocket to carefully cut away the barbed wire. Her face is tense with concentration, and I can see how much she cares about this doe—this isn’t just some random animal to her. There’s a connection here, something deeper.

Finally, she frees the doe from the barbed wire, gently wrapping a piece of cloth around the wound to stop the bleeding. “She should be okay,” Juniper murmurs, more to herself than to me. “But she needs to rest. She’s been through a lot.”

We both sit back on our heels, watching as the doe slowly tries to stand. She’s shaky but determined, taking a few tentative steps before turning her head to look at Juniper. There’s something almost human in that gaze—a silent thank you that’s clear.

As the doe limps off into the trees, Juniper stands up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “I didn’t expect to see her here,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with a sadness I don’t fully understand.

I get up too, pulling on my shirt, but I can’t take my eyes off her. “You knew her?”

Juniper nods, her gaze still lingering where the doe disappeared into the forest. “We first saw her when she was just a fawn. She was hurt, and my Grams and Jacob helped her. Grams always said she had a connection with the deer in these woods. I guess I never believed her until now.”

I take a breath, unsure if I should ask, but the words come out anyway. “Is that why your Grams’ ashes are here? In the park?”

“Yes,” she says quietly, her voice filled with a mix of love and loss. “She loved it here, surrounded by nature. It was the one place she always felt at peace.”

She says it, and for a moment, neither of us moves. It’s not really about the doe. It’s about something else. Something rooted in her, in this place, that I’m only starting to get. I reach for her hand. “You did good, Juniper.” I keep my tone low, not pushing..

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment, the walls she’s built around herself seem to crack. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the cold air. “But this doesn’t change anything between us, Zade.”

“Maybe,” I reply, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But I’m a persistent man. I’m not going anywhere.”

She huffs in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest, which only accentuates her curves more. “You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are.”

“Better than being a pain in the tiddies,” I shoot back with a smirk, unable to resist the jab.

Finally, I see it—a tiny, reluctant twitch at the corner of her mouth, almost a smile before she catches herself and forces her face back into a scowl. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” I say, spreading my arms wide as if presenting myself as the greatest gift she’s ever been given.

She rolls her eyes again, turning on her heel and heading back toward the cabin. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But when you freeze to death out here, don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

“Deal,” I say, still grinning.

She groans in exasperation, throwing her hands up as if she’s been cursed. “Just my luck.”

I watch her go, admiring the way she moves, even when she’s clearly annoyed. There’s a strength to her, a fire that refuses to be snuffed out, and I find myself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I know I’ve got a long road ahead if I’m ever going to earn her trust back, but for the first time, I feel like I’m making some kind of progress.

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Later that day, I find myself rummaging through my duffel bag, only to realize I’m out of clean shirts—and worse, I’m down to my last pair of underwear.

With a sigh, I pull on my jacket, deciding it’s time to head back to the hotel. A quick trip to pick up some fresh clothes and maybe grab a much-needed shower sounds like the perfect plan. I glance back at the cabin one last time, half-expecting Juniper to come out, but the place is quiet. She’s probably inside, praying I leave her alone. Not gonna happen.

Starting the car, I drive away from the clearing. The winding roads seem longer, and the dense forest is closing in around me. I can't stop thinking about her—the way she looked after the doe, the emotions she revealed about her Grams.

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