Page 51 of Dreams and Desires

As I step into the hotel lobby, the warmth hits me, but my mind’s still stuck in that cabin, with Juniper and the way she looked after that doe. I grab my bag from the room, tossing in fresh clothes and a few other essentials. Then, just as I’m about to leave, an idea hits me—an idea that might just get Juniper to open up, or at least open the door to the cabin.

I know her well enough by now to realize that brute force isn’t going to work with her, and neither will my usual charm. But this? This could be different.

I can’t help but grin as I head back to the car, my plan already forming in my mind. If anything’s going to get her to stop hiding, it’s this. And I’m more than ready to see if it works.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Juniper

When Zade finally drives away, I’m left standing by the window, watching his taillights disappear into the distance. I should feel relief, but instead, there’s this odd emptiness settling deep in my chest. My hands are still clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I try to hold onto the anger that’s been my shield for so long.

“Good riddance,” I mutter to myself, as if saying it out loud will make it true. But the words fall flat in the silence of the cabin, echoing back at me like a taunt.

I force myself to go about my day, trying to shake off the unease that lingers in the pit of my stomach. I tell myself I should be glad he’s gone—that I don’t have to deal with his infuriating persistence or those intense stares that seem to strip me bare. But instead, I find myself missing those stares—the way his eyes would lock onto mine and make me feel something I can’t quite name.

I try everything I can to distract myself. I scrub the cabin clean, from top to bottom, until my hands are raw and the place smells like pine and lemon. I attempt to read, but the words blur together on the page, and I end up tossing the book aside in frustration. Even the crackling fire, usually a source of comfort, fails to soothe the restlessness gnawing at me.

As the day drags on, the cabin starts to feel too quiet, too empty. I keep glancing out the window, half-expecting to see Zade’s car pulling back up the driveway, but all I see are trees swaying in the cold wind. The solitude that I once craved now feels like a burden, pressing down on me and making it hard to breathe.

Then, just when I’m starting to convince myself that I’m better off alone, I hear the sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside. My heart skips a beat, but I tell myself it’s probably just someone passing by. Who else would be out here?

But when I peek out the window, there he is. Zade’s car pulls up, and he’s not alone.

I watch, my heart in my throat, as Jacob steps out of the car, his face lighting up with a smile as he looks around. The sight of my brother sends a rush of emotions through me—relief, love, guilt, all tangled together.

I fling the door open and run outside, nearly slipping on the icy steps in my haste. “Jacob!” I cry while my voice cracks with emotion.

He turns, and the moment he sees me, he’s moving too, crossing the distance between us in a few long strides. He wraps me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground as if I weigh nothing. “Juniper! God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I whisper, clinging to him as if he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s suddenly gone topsy-turvy. For a moment, everything feels right again, like the world has settled back into place.

When Jacob finally pulls away, he keeps his hands on my shoulders, looking me over like he’s trying to make sure I’m really okay. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t visit sooner. The treatments... they’ve been rough.”

“It’s okay,” I say, though the worry I’ve been holding onto all these months bubbles up. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Jacob smiles, but there’s a trace of sadness in it, and I know he’s thinking about everything we’ve been through. I squeeze his hand, wanting to reassure him, but the sight of Zade standing off to the side, watching us with that unreadable expression of his, pulls my attention away.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets, looking like he doesn’t belong. Like he’s waiting for the right moment to leave but doesn’t quite know how. I should be relieved that he’s staying out of the way, but instead, I feel a pang of something—guilt, maybe—that he’s not joining us.

“Come inside, Jacob,” I say, pulling my brother toward the cabin. “It’s freezing out here.”

Jacob hesitates, glancing over at Zade. “You sure? Zade can come in too.“

“No,” I cut him off, a little too quickly. “He’s... he’s fine out here.”

Zade just nods, like he expected as much, and Jacob doesn’t argue. We head inside, and I close the door behind us, the warmth of the cabin wrapping around us. But even as I talk with Jacob, asking about his health and how he’s been, I can’t shake the heaviness of Zade’s presence lingering just outside.

Jacob and I settle down by the fire, the crackling flames casting a soft glow over the room. He talks about his treatments, the way they’ve been wearing him down, but also giving him hope. I listen, nodding and holding onto his every word, but my mind keeps drifting back to Zade.

Jacob notices something’s off and suddenly goes quiet, studying me with those sharp, perceptive eyes of his. “Juniper... you alright?”

“Of course I am,” I say quickly, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re not exactly good at hiding things,” he says as a matter of factly. “Something’s bothering you.”

I open my mouth to deny it, but the words stick in my throat, and I let out a frustrated sigh. “What’s bothering me is standing outside on the porch.”

Jacob chuckles, glancing toward the porch. “He’s not that bad, Juniper.”

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