"Oh my god, are you okay?" Nora calls from behind the counter as Juniper and I step through the doors of Hansen's Coffee.

"I'm fine," I respond, casting a quick glance her way.

"Are you sure?" She leans over the counter, her concern evident as we walk by. "I'll bring you some ice!"

"Wells, I'm so sorry," Juniper says, walking a step behind me as we make our way inside.

"Don't worry about it, Juniper," I reply, glancing back at her before falling onto the couch at the back of the shop. "It's not your fault."

I was sorting through the storage closet when Nora called me out to the front. "Wells, I think you should come out here. I'm pretty sure Beckett just kissed your girl," she said.

I immediately abandoned the box I was holding and went to the front to check if she was serious. And there stood Juniper with Beckett, looking visibly upset. For a brief moment, we both stood there silently, observing the situation. I hesitated, uncertain if it was appropriate for me to interfere, but when I could see Juniper withdrawing emotionally, I knew I had to step in and see if she was okay.

I just didn't think he would actually punch me.

"It was my fault," she insists, her voice thick with unshed tears, settling beside me on the couch. She tucked her feet beneath herself, brushing away a tear.

I hate that she's crying. I fucking hate that she's crying over him.

It's like taking a blow to the gut this time, seeing her like this. Every part of me aches just seeing it. Her face, swollen and red, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks devastated. Devastated all because of her ex. I thought all these emotions she'd moved past were already gone, but here they are, right back at the surface because of him.

Fucking perfect.

Maybe I should have punched him back. I'm not an idiot, though. Beckett is taller than me by at least five inches, weighs around 250 pounds, and could probably bench over 300 pounds. There was no way I was going to get in a fistfight with a guy that almost went into the NFL.

The last time I threw a punch was back in middle school when Adam Bates stole my Nintendo DS and made fun of me for playing Pokémon during lunch. I punched him, he punched me back, and I told myself never again.

What would punching him have accomplished in the end anyway? I think it probably would have made Juniper more upset.

"It's fine, Juniper. Honestly, I'm okay. It's not that bad." I gently, shaking my head, trying to reassure her.

"But he punched you in the eye!" Her voice carries a tinge of panic. "That's bad. Really bad, Wells!"

"It wasn't that bad," I mutter, pulling out my phone to take a look at my eye in the camera. Already swollen, but I try not to inspect it too closely with Juniper right here.

"Holy shit, that was bad," Nora exclaims, stepping in from the front of the coffee shop, carrying a bag of ice.

I roll my eyes while Juniper's face contorts, burying her head in her hands, emitting a groan.

"I thought I was going to have to call the cops," Nora adds.

"He's never done anything like that before," Juniper interjects, looking from Nora to me. "I swear, I've never seen him punch anyone before."

"Well, to be fair, there's probably a lot about him you didn't actually know," Nora mumbles as she hands the bag of ice to Juniper.

I shoot her a glare. "Not helping, Nora."

"Sorry, I'll go," she says, retreating to the front of the coffee shop.

"No, she's right." She moves closer, her knees brushing against my thighs as she applies the ice to my eye. I wince. "He had cheated on me more than once, and I had no idea. I'm just that oblivious, that gullible, that stupid."

I gently place my hand over hers, holding the ice pack. "You're not stupid. Beckett is just..."

"Manipulative? A liar? A narcissist?" She groans, hiding her face in her hands once more. "I'm so embarrassed," she mumbles, her voice muffled.

"Juniper," I say softly, leaning closer to her.

"Wells," she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she attempts to conceal the tears streaming down her face.

I gently attempt to pry her hands away from her face with my free hand. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have come out there." She gazes up at me, tears continuing to fall. "You seemed so upset. I just needed to make sure you were okay."

"If I had been clearer with him from the start, if I had ended things right away and told him not to contact me again..."

"He shouldn't have come regardless. Him cheating on you and your decision to leave should have made things clear enough for him."

She groans. "I know. I'm sorry, Wells," she whispers, a tear trailing down her cheek. I set the ice aside and reach for her, pulling her into my lap until her legs straddle mine. I brush a strand of her hair back from her face with my fingers.

"Please don't cry," I say, brushing away a tear with the pad of my thumb. "Not over him."

"I'm not crying–" She says, the words choked by tears. "I'm not crying over him. I think I'm just overwhelmed, maybe? Or something? I don't know. I didn't think he'd come all the way here, much less punch you in the face. I thought that after two months of ignoring him, he'd get the picture. I thought he'd stop trying."

"He should have stopped trying," I say softly, wiping away more tears. "But I don't want you to be sad about it, Juniper."

"That's the thing I... I don't know. I don't know how I feel. Angry. Embarrassed. Hurt. And maybe a little regretful," she says, her gaze drifting upwards as if searching for answers. "I think most of all I feel betrayed, spending two years with someone only to find out I've been lied to and cheated on the entire time, but I'm not sad he's gone." She takes a sharp inhale. "Is that terrible of me? That I spent two years of my life with someone, and I don't even feel sad about breaking up with them?"

"No, it doesn't. That doesn't make you terrible."

She nods at me. "I think now I'm just relieved. In my mind, facing him seemed so much harder. But now that I already did, I'm just relieved it's over."

"Good," I say as I look at her brown eyes, glassy from tears."But if you do end up feeling sad about it later, I'm pretty sure I could get Lindsey from the obituaries to put Beckett's face on one of the columns. Or I can have Mark in sports write a bad article about how he didn't get into the NFL again."

She lets out a watery laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "You wouldn't do that."

"I'm quickly realizing I'd do just about anything for you."

She hesitates, wetting her lips before pressing them together, her gaze drifting to the couch. She picks up the bag of ice and gingerly applies it to my eye. I wince slightly as the cold presses against my skin again.

I exhale, feeling the weight of uncertainty settling between us. This undefined space we exist in. Apparently, neither of us seems to want to talk about it. We've done an exceptional job at avoiding the subject for the last month.

Or maybe we haven't. Maybe she really meant what she said from the start. Only for the summer.

"Juniper, I thi–" I start to whisper.

"You're going to have a black eye," she interrupts, shifting the topic.

I sigh, recognizing it's probably not the right moment to bring it up, so I lean forward and press a kiss against her lips instead. "That's okay. I kinda like being taken care of by you," I say, feeling her smile against my lips, making me smile too.

She burrows her face into the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply before exhaling softly. I trace my hand over the curve of her back as she whispers, "Thank you," against me.

"What for?"

"For being there for me."

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