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Chapter Eight
“Juniper. Juniper, wake up.” Firm hands shook her and she recognized Callie’s voice.
“Why what’s wrong?” The entire world pitched forward as if ten drunk ballerinas danced in her head. She peeled an eye open and immediately regretted it. She fisted her hand into a nearby pillow and yanked it to cover her face.
Too much light. “Someone, kill the sunlight already.”
“She’s awake,” Callie bellowed and Juniper sprang up from the couch, and the memories of the night before tumbled out.
She forgot about the light killing her eyeballs when an earthquake shook her fully awake.
Callie jumped on one end of the couch, Ivy on the other. They looked way too chirpy for killing two bottles of whiskey a few hours before.
“Juniper, wake up.”
“I am. How do you expect me to sleep through all your noise? Aren’t you a little old to get so excited over nothing?” She bundled her pillow and tossed it with no real aim. “Now go back to sleep already.”
“Uhh, not this time we’re not. Come on, you gotta see this. Move your ass, woman!” Ivy pulled and Callie flung her blanket off.
“Okay. I’m up. What is so damn important? Is the house on fire?”
She blinked rapidly until the blurred vision of Ivy’s living room came into focus.
The front door burst open and her mom came barreling through with Gran in tow.
“Turn on the TV.”
“Good morning, Mom, Gran.” Juniper passed hugs around, aware she must smell like a distillery.
“It’s on.” Someone spoke, but she was too busy looking at Marshall. On TV. In high definition.
“What is this about? What’s going on?” She pivoted and nearly fell over.
She heard his voice, saw his face, but couldn’t believe her eyes.
The cameraman zoomed out a fraction and she could tell he stood where she’d shared her deepest feelings with him.
“What’s he up to?” She pegged each of them with a look that meant business.
She flipped large cushions and tossed pillows until she found the remote stuffed behind an empty pizza box. She punched the button until a Texas baritone drawl filled the room. The news anchorwoman she recognized from the local news station stood with a microphone poised between her and Marshall.
Juniper couldn’t look away though she wanted to turn heel and head upstairs or a shower, uncaring of what the man had to say. Curiosity won out and had planted her feet to the spot.
“Okay, can I begin?” Marshall asked the news anchor who held up a hand.
“We’re gathered at Wish Alley today at the request of Marshall Blackwood.
“Yes,” Marshall cut in and Juniper smirked. He never could wait his turn when he had something on his mind.
The anchorwoman laughed too. “As you can see, Mr. Blackwood has something very important to say.”
“Yes, we can get into the thick of the story later,” Marshall cut in again, taking the mic, much to the anchorwoman’s surprise. “Excuse me, ma’am, mighty sorry, but I need to do this first.”
Juniper drew closer as phones went off behind her. She cranked the TV up a couple of notches, ignoring everyone.
“Juniper Winters.”
Marshall accepted papers from someone off-camera. Her eye darted to the right and immediately recognized the gold pinky ring Shawn wore on his right hand from their first meeting.
