He sat slumped in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead like he could will himself anywhere but here. His jaw was tight, lips pressed in a hard line.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. Every mile that passed just made the heat in my chest coil tighter, sharper. “You’re really not going to say anything?” I finally muttered, glancing at him.
His shoulders shifted. “What do you want me to say, Juniper? That I embarrassed you? That I acted like a goddamn cave dweller and ruined my own career?”
“That’s not?—”
“Ishouldn’thave called you,” he cut in, voice rough. “I don’t know why I did.”
My chest ached. “Maybe because you needed me.”
He flinched as if I’d struck him.
“You think Idon’tknow better?” He let out a bitter laugh, still not looking at me. “You don’t need someone like me blowing up your life. You’ve been through enough. I don’t…” He shook his head. “I don’tgetto want you on top of that.”
The words cracked something deep inside me.
He didn’t know. He didn’t know what I’d seen. My throat tightened as I stared at the dark stretch of road. “You think I don’t know what you did?”
His head snapped toward me, eyes wide.
I swallowed hard. “I saw it, Ansel. The video. All of it.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again, jaw working.
“And you know what?” My voice broke, soft and sharp all at once. “I don’t care how messy it looked. I don’t care that you got arrested. Because no one —no one— has ever stood up for me the way you did before you threw that first punch.”
The air between us burned, heavy, electric.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, pulling the car off on the shoulder.
“What are you doing?” He turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
Shifting into park, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
With a little bit of maneuvering, I slid from the driver’s seat and into his lap, straddling him awkwardly. “Ansel,” I whispered, lacing my fingers through his hair. “No one.” My forehead was resting against his. “I was scared. I might still be scared.”
His breath hitched, fingers trembling as they settled at my hips, grounding me. “I know,” he whispered, voice rough, almost breaking. “Me too.”
We stayed like that — forehead to forehead, breath mingling, the world outside shrinking to just us. I traced slow circles along the nape of his neck, searching for words I didn’t have.
“Maybe I’m scared I’m too broken,” I admitted, voice barely audible. “Or that this…” I swallowed hard. “... thatIwon’t be enough.”
His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “Juniper, look at me.”
I met his eyes — wild, wounded, and yet fiercely alive. “This is messy,” he said, “but it’s ours. It can be ours, baby.”
Tears pricked at my eyes as his hands slid under my shirt, fingers tracing fire along my ribs.
I pressed closer, heart pounding, lips trembling as I let the dam break. “Did I—” my voice hitched as I felt a tear creep down my cheek. “—did I ruin this, Ansel?” My fingers traced the lines of his jaw, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose.
“Do you think I beat the shit out of everyone’s shitty ex-husbands?” He laughed, kissing a tear off of my cheek. “I’m here, Juniper. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he kissed me.
Slowly at first, cautiously — like he was afraid I would run away if he moved too fast. His lips were gentle, coaxing my comfort out of me, but I didn’t want soft.
Not after all this time.
