Page 89 of Juniper Unraveling

Our population has doubled in the last few years, as more people learn about the community. They come from all over the country to live here. Some have tried to emulate this place, seizing the few solar panel farms scattered about, but they just don’t have the resources, or manpower, to construct a fortress like Szolen—which existed long before the outbreak.

Weaving through the crowd, I make my way to one of the tents toward the back. Jessie smiles when she sees me, wearing her wide brimmed farmer’s hat and worn jeans, with a sleeveless flannel cut off above a dull tattoo. She’s pushing seventy, but her spirit keeps her young, in spite of her wrinkles. At her neck are three different leather chokers, each with a charm hanging off a small loop of silver. I think she might have some native in her, with long graying hair and slightly wider nose.

I’ve always thought her to be a stunning woman for her age. Maybe it’s just because she’s real. She doesn’t hide behind a mask, like the other women here. With Jessie, what you see is what you get.

“Well, look what the wind blew in.”

Spread across the table is a variety of jewelry, herbs in small poultices, and bars of scented soap—all things she makes herself. A second table holds all variety of fruit and vegetables from her garden.

“How goes it, Jess?” I slide my pack from my shoulder to relieve the weight.

“You been out in the Deadlands again, I see.”

With an unwitting smile, I nod. “How’d you know?”

She leans in, glancing around, and raises a brow. “You look happy as a pig in shit.”

I laugh at that, slipping my hand into the bag, and pull out the bird I shot earlier, handing it off to her. “I need some soap.”

“Oh, well.” She accepts the dead bird and nabs a bag from under the table that she tosses it into. “That’s a fine bird. You take whatever you need, sweet cheeks. Got a new scent you might want to check out. Sandalwood mint. That handsome Pops of yours might like it.” She winks, and I smile at the indirect flirtations she typically passes along through me. Jessie’s had a thing for Papa for a while now, but he’s so damn stubborn, he’s ignored her for the most part.

“I suppose I could forego the lavender this time.”

“Take both. And pick out a necklace. Your neck is looking bare, child.” She shuffles off toward a woman standing alongside the herbs with her three children.

My smile widens, and I nod, directing my attention down to the leather chokers she’s laid out in rows. I hold one made of brown leather, with an attached bird charm to my throat, clasping it behind my neck.

“Hello, Wren.”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh to find Damian Shaw standing beside the vegetables, in his casual clothes, holding a tomato.

Bastard wouldn’t dare throw it at me now. Not when half the town, including Damian, considers me some kind of wild mountain woman for venturing beyond the wall. Two years ago, he joined The Legion and, just like the rest of the assholes, thinks he’s the answer to every woman’s prayers. Perhaps he is to most of the girls, who fawn all over the Legion soldiers like they’re some kind of status ticket.

It’s becoming more common to see them walking around without their full uniform, some opting for civilian clothes when not on duty, so I’m guessing Damian’s on R&R, or something.

“Choker looks good on you. So would my hands.” The grin stretching his face brings a frown to mine.

Arrogant prick. “I just puked a little in my mouth.”

“You know I’ve always had a thing for you.”

I know. The man makes a point to come on to me every chance he gets.

“You have a thing for everyone,” I say, lifting the bars of lavender and sandalwood soap and tucking them into my bag. “You’d fuck that tomato, if you weren’t already trying to get into my pants.”

Setting the tomato back with the others, he rounds the table, coming to a stop way too close to me.

I back up, and he leans in. This peacock dance is getting old, the way he struts around trying to get my attention. So many other girls, stupid enough to play his game, and he wastes his time with me.

“C’mon. Meet me in the back of this building. Just one yank, yeah?”

Ugh. About a year ago, I indulged this bullshit by jacking him off in the backseat of his father’s car, and he’s been pining for more ever since.

“No, thanks. Been there before.” I wave to Jessie, signaling my leave, but the grip of my shoulder halts me in my tracks.

No one touches me without asking.

Glancing down at his hand and back to him prompts him to release me, and he backs away, lifting both hands in the air, as if in surrender.