She wasn’t the same wilting wallflower she had been for the nine long months of her pregnancy and the weeks of parting that came after. Juniper met Sullivan’s gaze. “It’s good to see you too.”
Her confession was permission-giving, Juniper knew that, and she didn’t back away when he moved toward her. He touched her softly. Just his fingertips on her cheek, his eyes searching hers for something they had lost a long time ago. Sullivan let his forehead fall to hers, and when she didn’t pull away, he drew her close.
They stood like that for a long time, just holding each other, her head tucked against his chest and his arms tight around her. Then he kissed the top of her head, and when Juniper looked up, Sullivan brushed his lips against the pale curve near the corner of her mouth.
The shock of it startled them both, and they pushed away from each other at exactly the same moment.
“God, June.” Her name sounded like a curse on his tongue.
Then Sullivan turned away and marched out of the old chicken coop. She followed him to the door, leaning against the frame because she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to stand upright without help. Juniper watched as he trudged through the snow and climbed into the cab of his truck. After he slammed the door, he gave her one last hard look through the windshield, then slung his arm over the back of the seat and reversed out of the driveway, tires squealing as he punished them on the ice. He was gone before Juniper could even raise her fingers in goodbye.
She didn’t fault him. She wanted to do the same thing. To drive hard and fast, to break something, to scream. She knew exactly how he felt. And when he had studied her through the windshield, he was wrecked with warring emotions that she understood all too well.
He still loved her. But he hated her, too.
CHAPTER 12
SUMMER 14 AND A HALF YEARS AGO
“Let’s go.”
I look up from where I’m tucked into the very corner of the couch and close the book over my finger to mark my place. Jonathan is leaning on the doorframe, truck keys in hand. “Go where?” I motion to the novel I’m reading. “Kinda busy here.”
“Busy” is a relative term. I’m in a pair of faded boxers and a tank top with a built-in bra. Pajamas, essentially. It’s been dark for an hour already, and I was just thinking about bed.
“Bonfire at Phil’s. Come on.” He takes the book out of my hand gingerly, as if he’s afraid of how I’ll react. I let him do it, but only because I’ve changed my mind. If I was avoiding time alone with him before because I was afraid he’d drill me about Sullivan, I’m craving a few uninterrupted minutes now. We have a lot to talk about.
“O-kay,” I say, exaggerating my reluctance. Pushing myself off the couch, I tell him, “I just need to change.”
“Make it quick.”
“Meeting someone?” I wink.
“No, but I think you are.” He skewers me with a look so laced with meaning I stop in my tracks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We have to talk about Sullivan.”
“Fine,” I say, an edge in my voice. “We have to talk about Cal, too.”
“Just get dressed.”
I throw on a pair of cutoffs and a long-sleeved Henley. It’s late, and nights still get cool in early June. Stopping in the bathroom, I swish some mouthwash while brushing on a bit of mascara. A quick finger tousle and I decide I’m good enough. I’ve taken more than five minutes, and Jonathan isn’t patient.
The main floor is dark and empty when I creep down the stairs, and I can see the glow of Jonathan’s headlights through the kitchen window. I loop my fingers through a pair of sandals near the door and run out barefoot, jogging lightly over the gravel as the stones prick at my feet.
“What’s the story, morning glory?” I ask, trying to keep it light as I slide onto the bench of his truck and slam the door behind me.
“No story, June. It’s just a party.”
“Where have you been all day? The Murphys’？” Law never bothered to track Jonathan down, and fixed the fence himself, presumably. He popped the tab on a beer when he came in the house around suppertime, and drank steadily from that moment until he lumbered off to bed. He hardly said a word to either me or Mom.
I glance at Jonathan’s profile, illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. His jaw is set, and he nods tersely.
“How’s Cal?” I finish up with my sandals and sit back, pulling on my seat belt and giving my brother my full attention.