Page 73 of Juniper Unraveling

The fatty piece of meat I’m frying sizzles and pops in the pan, as Six strolls into the kitchen.

His hair has grown out about an inch from his head, still tidy from Papa’s trim, and his skin carries a bronze glow from working in the fields the day before. He wears a bright blue T-shirt I picked up for him at the market that, set against his dark chestnut hair, makes his eyes pop. The shadows behind them seem to have disappeared, and he sleeps much more peacefully in my bed as of late.

Papa sits at the table, reading one of his medical journals, while I try not to stare too long at Six, though by the way he’s staring back at me, he doesn’t seem all too concerned about catching the old man’s attention.

With each passing day, he somehow grows more attractive. Or maybe I’m just falling more and more for him. Deeper.

Coming up behind me, he reaches into the cupboard for a glass, setting his other hand against my hip. If not for Papa, he’d undoubtedly bend forward to kiss my nape, as he often does.

After plating the meat and eggs from the pan, I twist around and set out breakfast for all three of us.

Papa closes the book and sips his coffee. “I need you to run an errand for me, today, Wren. One of the Shaw boys cut his leg while jumping off the canyons. It’s a pretty nasty gash. I need you to drop off a poultice for his mother. I’ve something else to attend to this morning.”

“Sure, Papa.” A feeling of dread sinks in my stomach, though. I can’t stand the Shaw boys, or their friends. And the girls who fawn over them are worse, always whispering about me. Born to the politicians and military leaders for the community, they’re all the haughty kids who’d never survive beyond the wall.

“It’s best if Six stays here. We don’t want anyone to recognize him. It’ll be good for the two of you to spend a few hours apart.”

The frustration rises to my mouth faster than I can stop it, and I blurt out, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve missed lessons twice in the last two weeks, while off on your explorations.”

“I’ve been teaching Six to write some words, Papa. He can write sentences now.”

“I very much doubt such skills would be of use for him here.”

There are times his coldness cuts deep, and other times it makes a shallow slice to remind me that happiness is short-lived.

“The Shaw boys don’t deserve your help, Papa. They’re nothing but a bunch of punks.” I don’t bother to tell him that they call him crazy and useless behind his back.

“What they are doesn’t concern me. You’ll deliver that poultice this morning, is that clear?”

With a huff, I jab my fork into the eggs that no longer appeal to me. “Yes.”

Once breakfast is cleared, Papa heads out to wherever it is he goes every day. I still don’t know, and I’ve learned to avoid asking the questions that trigger his defenses. Instead, it remains inside the ever-growing vacuous void inside my head.

Arms scoop me up from behind, and I wrap tight to his neck, as Six carries me up the stairs to my bedroom. He sets me gently on the bed and removes his shirt. Ordinarily, we’d wait until after chores to mess around, but he seems anxious this morning. Driven. His eyes hold no humor as he peels the clothes from my body. Shorts. Shirt.

“Six, what’s gotten into you?”

His face is unreadable while he shoves his pants to the floor, springing his hard length free. The mattress slides across my back as he yanks my legs to the edge of the bed. He lines his tip to my entrance, and his jaw tenses with one rough thrust inside that arches my back, my fingers curled tight to the sheets.

Instead of the slow and steady motions, his movements are quick and furious, as if looking for a fast release. Sweat breaks out over his skin, and the grunting in my ear holds determination, as he swells inside of me, his hardness pushing against my walls.

I tip my head back, unable to resist the fullness as he slams his hips into mine, and on a strained groan, he pulls out of me, directing warm jets of his release onto my stomach. Across my breasts, over my belly, down to my engorged sex that burns with the ache of no climax. He reaches out and spreads it over my nipples and up to my neck.

The corner of his lips lifts with a snarl as he stares down at me, and it’s then the reason for his behaviors come to light.

“You’re jealous.” I glance down at the glistening across my skin and back to him. “You’re mad that I’m not taking you with me.”

As if calling him out strikes some chord of remorse, his brows pinch together, and he strides off toward the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth.

He wipes his hot fluids away before tossing the cloth onto the nightstand beside the bed, then he exits the room, leaving me naked and thoroughly unsatisfied.

* * *

After hanging out the laundry and preparing a cut of meat for dinner, I reluctantly head out to fulfill the dreaded errand.

Six is shoveling dirt when I approach from behind, his muscles shining with sweat, flexing with his toil as he digs a trench for more irrigation.