“Juniper! For fuck’s sake!” Willow yells, making us all crack up even more. Then— “Did you sleep with the guests again?” she asks, and, despite the blankets, and the fire, and my stupid festive mocha whatever-it-is, my insides turn cold, and it’s not so funny anymore.
Juniper’s face falls. “I’ll call you back.” She hangs up and looks at me.
I have nothing to say.
She looks to Ethan, and he shakes his head. “I think we should go.”
Chapter Eleven
Wetroopbacktothe car, our footsteps heavy as we cross the gritted road, away from the cosySnowcap Caféand back into the dark and cold and quiet.
Juniper climbs into the back seat, and Ethan joins me in the front, where we wait in awkward silence for the car to warm up and the windows to defrost.
Once the windscreen clears, I grip the steering wheel with trembling hands. Then I take a breath, press the pedal, and drive. Right now, I just need to get us back home. Only we’re not going home. And nothing is as it was. It’s all so messy. It doesn’t feel like a holiday; it feels like more chaos, which is exactly what we were trying to escape.
Juniper navigates from the backseat, giving the bare minimum when it comes to directions. A “left up here” and a “right at the end” and nothing more.
I concentrate on the road while Ethan looks out his window, turned away from us both to stare instead at everything we’re leaving behind.
Maybe we don’t work as a three in the real world after all.
The headlights score a path ahead, two swirling white cones pinning their gaze on the winding mountain roads. The glittering scenery from our journey down is consumed by the dark of night, shrouded in secrecy and now sorely lost.
I heave a long sigh, and in the silence that follows, Junipers asks, “So, that’s it?”
I glance at her in the rear-view mirror, and her face pales against the shadows.
“This is just over between us?” she asks.
I swallow hard. “I just—” Fuck. I don’t know why it matters so much to me, but— “I just thought what we had was … special,” I say, my voice cracking as I realise how totally pathetic that sounds. I’m a grown-ass adult, for fuck’s sake. I shouldn’t be moping over something so … short-lived.
Juniper looks down, and I try to keep my gaze fixed on the road.
“Itwasspecial,” she insists, in such a small, sad voice, it breaks my heart. “Itisspecial,” she continues. “I know we haven’t known each other long, but … you guysarespecial to me.”
Ethan won’t meet my gaze.
“But you’ve done this before?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “You’ve been with guests at the cabin?”
“Yes,” she admits, her voice watery.
God, why does this hurt so much? But I can’t help thinking … “I was terrified you’d think we were using you.” All my insecurities rush back. “I was beside myself, thinking I’d come off like some sort of predator, asking you to stay to live out some kind of … bisexual fantasy for me.” My eyes water, and I try tofocus on the road instead of the turmoil inside this car. “But it wasn’t like that.” I keep going, desperate to explain. “I knew I liked you. I knewweliked you, and you said you liked us back. But now it all feels so … tainted.”
Juniper leans forwards, placing a hand on my shoulder and I can’t help but relax at her touch. “I know it wasn’t like that,” she says softly. “Listen.” She leans back again, and I miss her warmth. “I told you I’d had a threesome before. I told you I knew I was bi when I was a teenager. I told you how many people I’ve slept with. I told you things I’ve never told anyone else.”
I nod, absorbing her words.
“And when I told you I liked you, I meant it.”
“Okay,” I reply, my heart still heavy.
“And so what if I’ve done it before?”
My stomach churns at the thought.
“It doesn’t make what we have any less special.”
Ethan huffs, breaking the fragile moment between us. “So we’re not just an easy target for you to get your rocks off?” His voice is laced with anger. “Is that your thing? Seducing married couples?”
