Page 35 of Harmony Island Gazette
She laughed, the sound of her voice sent a rush of pleasure through my body. It was the best kind of music. “So, it was a bad experience,” she said as she turned off the faucet and walked over to the paper towels and unrolled a handful.
“I’d say that.” Especially since Rick came home drunk to find the house in shambles, and he beat Mom until she blacked out that night. But the time I spent with my mom at McDonald’s was a happier memory.
Juniper turned her attention to the chicken and swished it around in the water. She held up a chicken breast and pressed it between her fingers so water dripped back into the bowl before she set it down on the paper towels she’d laid out.
She glanced over at me and I could tell that she wanted to ask me a question, but she wasn’t sure if she should. “What?” I asked. I didn’t want her to ask me about my mother, but at the same time I wanted to tell her everything.
She chewed her bottom lip as she narrowed her eyes. “Where is your mom now?”
I watched her, knowing that if I told her, there was no going back. She was going to have more questions and there was no way I wouldn’t answer them. Maybe this was for the better. If she realized what I’d done, she’d walk away. From the way I needed to be around her, I knew I wouldn’t be the one to leave.
“I—I mean, if you want to tell me.” Her cheeks flushed as she returned her focus to the chicken. “You’re an idiot, Juniper,” she whispered to herself.
“She died.”
Juniper’s body tensed before she glanced over at me. “Oh, Boone. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. I want you to know.” The last sentence was out before I could police the words or lessen the intensity with which I spoke them.
My meaning wasn’t lost on Juniper. Her body stilled as her gaze stayed focused on me. I held her gaze, wanting her to know that the words I’d said were true. I wanted her to know all the good things about me. I wanted her to see me with her goodness. I wanted to be the man that her and her family seemed to think I was.
I wanted it more than I wanted anything else in my life.
“How did she die?” Juniper finally whispered.
What did I say to that? The truth? Telling the truth would cause Juniper to pull far, far away from me. I couldn’t stomach the look she would give me. I needed to hang on to her affection for a bit longer. “She got sick,” was all I could get out.
Juniper’s gaze turned sympathetic. “I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you.”
All I could do was nod.
Juniper finished rinsing the chicken. She dumped out the bowl of water and then began to pat off the chicken breasts. I enjoyed watching her, but hated myself for not being completely truthful. Mom had been sick, but it had been in her mind, not her body. Juniper probably thought she had cancer or something. I could have saved my mom if I’d been stronger, but I hadn’t.
Her death was my fault.
“Well, I hope you enjoy this meal,” Juniper said, tearing me from my reverie. She’d finished patting the chicken and was washing her hands.
“I’m sure I will,” I said, offering her a smile.
She blushed and I loved the way her cheeks turned pink. She didn’t respond as she moved to open the egg carton and pulled out an egg. She cracked the shell on the counter and brought it up over the small pie tin she’d pulled from the cabinet. She hooked her fingers inside the shell and pulled it apart.
Just as the egg and yolk plopped into the dish, she sucked in her breath. Her face paled and she dropped the shell into the egg. Her hand flew to her mouth while the other went to her stomach. She bent over and rushed from the room.
Without thinking, I was off the chair and following after her. As soon as she was in the bathroom, I heard the toilet lid open, and she was heaving into the bowl. My heart ached for her. I wanted to help, I just didn’t know how.
She pushed her hair out of the way before her hand dropped to the ground and she heaved again. I stepped behind her and gathered her hair in my hands, pulling it off her neck. She made a small, whimpering sound—probably trying to tell me not to worry about it—but before she could protest, she returned to vomiting once more.
I stood behind her, holding her hair back until she finished and flushed the toilet. Her body was limp as she moved to lean against the tub next to her. I let go of her hair, and it fell around her shoulders as she closed her eyes and leaned forward to hold her forehead in her hand.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered.
I frowned. “Don’t be.”
She glanced up at me from between her fingers. “You just heard me puke.” She closed her fingers and crisscrossed her legs so she could rest her elbow on her knee.
“Not the first time a girl has thrown up in front of me.” Maybe boot camp didn’t count, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
She peeked back up at me. “Really?”
