Page 84 of Dreams and Desires

I want to go to him, to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay, but I’m rooted to the spot, my own emotions swirling in a tangled mess. I feel Zade’s hand on my arm, a gentle squeeze that grounds me, but I can’t move. I can’t speak.

“Juniper,” Zade murmurs softly, almost hesitant. “Maybe we should go.”

I nod numbly, unable to find my voice. Together, we turn to leave, but before we get off the stage, I look back at Dominique, who’s still on the floor, her body wracked with sobs. I can’t forgive her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I can’t leave her like this, either.

“Dominique,” I utter softly… She looks up at me, tears staining her cheeks. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the gravity of everything that’s happened hanging heavily between us.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you,” I continue. “But Jacob... he’s the one who matters most right now. And he’s going to need time. We all are.”

She nods, her sobs subsiding a little, but the pain in her eyes is still there, raw and unfiltered. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right,” she whispers, but I can tell that she knows it’s not that simple.

“Just... give him space,” I manage, my words faltering. “And don’t expect anything. He’s been through too much.”

With that, I turn away, my heart heavy with everything that’s happened. Zade’s hand is warm and steady on my back as we step into the cool night air, the sounds of the townfading into the background.

As we reach the car, I pause, my mind racing with thoughts and emotions that I can’t seem to untangle. “Zade, do you think... Do you think there’s any way to fix this? Any way to make things right?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just looks up at the stars for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I think... sometimes, things get broken in ways that can’t be fixed. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try. We just have to be prepared for the fact that it might never be the same.”

I nod, his words settling heavily in my chest. He’s right. Things might never be the same, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to heal, to move forward, even if it’s in a different direction.

As we drive away, I lean my head against the window, the cool glass soothing against my heated skin. I can’t stop thinking about Jacob, about Dominique, about everything that’s happened. And I can’t shake the feeling of being torn in two—part of me desperate to heal, to find peace, and the other part still clinging to the pain, the anger, the betrayal.

Chapter Forty-Three

Juniper

A month has passed since I moved into The Opal, and every day feels like it’s blending into the next. Somewhere along the way, lights went up around town and soft Christmas music started leaking through the hotel lobby speakers,but none of it really touched me. Zade is always around, trying to keep me steady, but no matter what he does, I’m still lost in my own thoughts. The beautiful rooms, the soft fabrics, the stunning views,they’re all supposed to help, to make me feel better, but instead, they just make me feel more distant.

Every morning, I wake up and find Zade already watching me from the armchair across the room, a quiet smile playing on his mouth like he’s been waiting for me to open my eyes. He never says much, just that look, that gentle nod, like he’s reminding me I’m not alone. The bed still carries his warmth, and the light pouring in through the big windows should feel comforting, but most days, it doesn’t. I sit up because he’s there. Because I know he cares. And because pretending I’m okay is easier when someone’s watching.

Brian is out of the picture now. After everything he did, the town finally turned on him. The corruption caught up with him, and he was jailed. Dominique, still a doctor, has tried reaching out to Jacob and me. I’ve forgiven her because she savedmy brother’s life, but Jacob… Jacob hasn’t. He’s not ready to let go of what she did, and I see the pain in his eyes whenever her name comes up.

One morning, Zade enters the room, and I sit up, trying to shake off the heaviness. “Morning,” I say, attempting a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Zade notices, but he doesn’t push. He just smiles back, his eyes soft and understanding.

“How about a walk today?” he suggests, hoping to get me out of my room. “We could get some fresh air, maybe grab a coffee? They’ve got a huge tree up in the square now. Lights, carolers, the works.”

“I’m not up for it today,” I reply, knowing I should try,for him, for myself. But the thought of stepping outside, of pretending everything’s okay, feels too overwhelming.

He nods. “That’s okay,” he says gently. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” I say, though we both know it’s unlikely. Then he leaves, giving me space, even though I can see how much he wants to help, how much he wishes he could make things better.

Jacob is always on my mind too. After everything with Dominique, he’s withdrawn, moving into a small apartment near The Opal. It's small, cozy..feels exactly like the fresh start he needed after leaving Mom and Dad's. He’s working at the hotel now, trying to keep busy, trying to distract himself from the pain. Zade offered him the job, and I’m grateful, but I can see how much it’s taking a toll on my brother.

Physically, Jacob is getting better. The kidney transplant went well, and his strength is slowly returning. But the emotional wounds are deep, and I see the sadness in his eyes whenever I visit. He tries to hide it, to act strong for me, but I know him too well. He’s hurting, and it breaks my heart to see him like this.

I visit him often, bringing him meals, checking on him, but our conversations are awkward. There’s a distance between us that wasn’t there before, a gap created by everything that’s happened. We talk about small things,the weather, his job,but we avoid the real issues.

Today, I made chicken and rice, his favorite. When I get to his place, he’s out on the balcony, staring down at the town. Someone in the building put up a string of red and green lights on the balcony rail, but Jacob hasn’t touched them. There’s a tiny fake tree on his kitchen counter, still in the box. He looks worn out, his face pale, shadows under his eyes.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping out onto the balcony with him. “I brought your favorite.”

He manages a small smile. “Thanks, Juniper. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” I reply, setting the container on the small table between us. “How’re you holding up?”

“Just getting by,” he says, but his voice lacks conviction. “Taking it one day at a time, I guess.”

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