Page 69 of Dreams and Desires

“Ah, the charming townsfolk,” Zade drawls. “Did you all get together for a community sing-along or just to shout insults at people?”

“Shut up, Patterson!” one of the men yells. “We know what you’re doing. You’re just using Juniper as your little puppet.”

Zade’s smirk only widens. “Right, because manipulating a town of conspiracy theorists is my idea of a good time. I’m flattered that you think I have that much free time and energy.”

“You think you’re so smart,” another woman snaps. “But we know what kind of man you are. You’re not welcome here.”

Zade arches a skeptical brow, shooting a quick glance my way before turning back. “Trust me, the feeling goes both ways. But let’s set one thing straight. I’m not using Juniper. She’s not some pawn, puppet, or whatever twisted narrative you've got running in your heads. Shemakes her own choices, and she’s stronger than any of you realize.”

The crowd bristles, but Zade doesn’t give them a chance to respond. He turns back to me, his expression softening slightly. “Ready to go?”

I nod, still feeling the sting of their words but also a strange warmth from Zade’s defense. As he walks around to the driver’s side, the voices continue to hurl insults, but he doesn’t react.

We drive away, the tension from the confrontation lingering in the air. I stare out the window, trying to process everything. “They think I’m just... I don’t know. They think I’m okay with everything you’re doing.”

Zade glances over, his expression serious. “Do you think that?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t know what to think anymore. These people have been mean to me before, and when the whole resort thing came up, I thought maybe I could turn things around, win them over by saving the town. But now... I see it doesn’t even matter. They’re not worth it.”

He reaches over, his hand brushing mine. “You don’t need anyone’s approval. I didn’t realize that was part of why you opposed the resort.”

“Yeah, Zade,” I say, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Everyone thought you had an ulterior motive, but it was actually me. I tried to fix things, to win them over, and I failed miserably.”

He squeezes my hand gently. “Don’t beat yourself up, Juniper. It’s normal to want to be cherished and accepted. But don’t worry—we’ll fix things. We’ll figure it out together.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Zade

Once we reach the cabin, I take a long bath. When I step out of the bathroom, the steam trails behind me, lingering in the air. The warm air inside the cabin wraps around me, but it does nothing to chase away the cold knot in my chest. I towel off, the soft fabric rougher than usual against my skin, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The face in the mirror looks like a stranger—haunted, exhausted, and beaten down by burdens beyond my control. I see a man who's lost, and for the first time, I don't know how to find my way back.

The hot shower did little to calm my nerves, but it gave me time to think, to piece together the scattered thoughts racing through my head. The resort project, the thing I’ve poured so much time and energy into, has become a burden, a symbol of everything I thought I wanted but now realize isn’t worth the cost. And for what? A win that feels more like a loss every day? I can’t keep doing this, chasing victories that leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

I quickly get dressed, and when I walk into the living room, Juniper is sitting by the fireplace, her face illuminated by the soft, flickering light. She looks up as I enter, her eyes searching mine, and I can see the unspoken questions there. She’s been thinking, too, and I wonder if she’s reached the same conclusion I have.

I don’t waste time with small talk. “Juniper, I’m pulling out of the project,” I say it slowly, each word weighted, but there’s no hesitation.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she sets down the book she’s been pretending to read. “What? Zade, are you serious?”

I nod, moving closer to her, needing her to understand. “Yeah, I am. I’m done with it. I’ll deal with the fallout, whatever it costs me. I can’t keep going with this, knowing what it’s doing to you and to us.”

She stands up, disbelief and relief warring on her face. “But the project... it’s everything you’ve worked for. Why would you just give it up?”

I run a hand through my still-damp hair, feeling frustrated. “Because it’s not worth it, Juniper. Not if it means losing you. I’ve spent my whole life chasing wins, but for once, I’m choosing to walk away.”

She stares at me, her lips parting in shock, but I don’t stop. I need her to hear this, to understand what’s been gnawing at me. “This town, the money I’ve already spent here... It all means nothing to me. The people here—they’re selfish and mean, and they’ve treated you like shit. I’ve seen it; I’ve heard the things they say and the way they look at you. Whatever I’m doing, it’s all for you. Just you.”

She’s quiet fora moment, her eyes reflecting the struggle inside her as she tries to find the right words. Finally, she takes a deep breath, her voice steady but soft. “Thank you Zade. I know the people—even my own parents—have hurt me more than I can say. I hate what they’ve done and who they are. But this place—it’s where I have my few good memories. With Grams, with Jacob. I know it’s messed up, but it’s home. It’s roots. It’s the one place where, even when everything else falls apart, I can still find a part of myself.”

Her words hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, stirring up memories I’d rather forget. Roots. Home. Those words never really meant anything to me. Before I was adopted, my life was a mess—unstable and chaotic. The idea of being anchored to a place, of having a home that’s more than just a roof over your head, is something I’ve never truly known. My throat tightens, and I look away, vulnerability creeping in despite my best efforts to keep it buried.

“I wouldn’t know,” I admit, my words raw with an emotion I’m not used to sharing. “I didn’t have a home growing up. Just foster homes, bouncing from one place to the next, never staying long enough to put down roots, to feel like I belonged anywhere. I learned early on that people don’t stick around. You have to fend for yourself, and winning was the only thing that mattered.”

She leans closer, her hand hovering in the air, like she’s unsure whether to touch me or not. “Zade...”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to keep my composure. “When I was a kid, Axel was the closest thing I had to a family. He taught me that winners have it all and that winning was the only way to survive. And I believed him. Hell, I lived by that creed. But now... now I’m starting to see that maybe winning isn’t everything.”

She’s listening intently, her eyes locked on mine, and I can see the empathy there, the understanding. But it’s not pity. It’s something deeper, something that makes my chest tighten in a way that’s both painful and comforting.

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