Page 9 of Bad Business

After hanging up, I take a moment to gather myself.

Sitting beside Juniper’s hospital bed, the steady beeping of the monitor lulling me into a trance, my mind drifts back to the stormy past that brought us here. The memories are vivid, etched into my mind like a tattoo that never fades.

It all started with Lark’s heartbreak. She had been seeing a man she believed was the love of her life, only to discover, through a twisted series of events, that he was married. The revelation shattered her world. I remember the night she found out. She came to my apartment, her face pale, eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“He’s married, Willow,” she whispered, her voice broken. “He’s been lying to me this whole time.”

The betrayal cut deep. As if that wasn’t enough, when Lark told him she was pregnant, his reaction was nothing short of monstrous. He demanded she end the pregnancy, dismissing her and the baby as if they were nothing. He told her he couldn’t have it ruining his life.

Lark’s fury was palpable. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her body trembled. But the worst was yet to come. He signed away his rights, walking away without a backward glance, leaving Lark to pick up the pieces. He treated her like trash, and the anger that burned within her was a fire that never fully extinguished.

I stood by her side through it all, offering whatever comfort I could. Lark’s pain became my own, and her strength in the face of such cruelty was both inspiring and heartbreaking. Despite the turmoil, Lark kept the baby, determined to give her child a life filled with love, something she had been so cruelly denied by a man who used her.

When Juniper was born, she was a tiny bundle of life with a shock of dark hair and the most piercing eyes I’d ever seen. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I was in love. I held her in my arms, her little fingers grasping mine, and I felt a profound sense of purpose.

The year before, we had lost our parents in a tragic car accident. Their sudden death had left a gaping void in our lives, a wound that seemed impossible to heal. Lark and I clung to each other, our bond growing stronger in the face of our shared grief. Then came Juniper, a tiny light in the darkness, bringing us closer together than ever before.

Raising Juniper became our shared mission, a way to honor our parents and find solace amid our pain. I remember the sleepless nights, the diaper changes, the first steps, and the first words. Each milestone was a testament to our resilience, a reminder that love could bloom even in the most barren of places.

But our journey was far from easy. Lark’s anger toward Juniper’s father never fully dissipated. It lingered, a shadow over her happiness. She struggled with the betrayal, the way he had discarded her and their child so callously. And while Lark found joy in Juniper, there was always an undercurrent of sorrow, a reminder of what had been taken from her.

Despite this, her love for Juniper never wavered. She became the center of both of our worlds, her laughter a balm for our wounded hearts. But just when I thought we had found our footing, tragedy struck again. Lark was brutally murdered, ripped from our lives in a senseless act of violence. The pain of losing her was indescribable, a grief so profound it felt like drowning.

In the aftermath, I discovered secrets Lark had kept hidden, lies that shattered my trust and left me reeling. She had been involved with dangerous people, making choices that put her life and Juniper’s wellbeing in jeopardy. The betrayal cut deep, a wound that festered alongside my grief. I felt lost, struggling to reconcile the sister I loved with the secrets she had kept.

Raising Juniper on my own became my only focus. She was my lifeline, the reason I got out of bed each day. I poured all my love and energy into her, determined to give her the life Lark had dreamed of. But the fear and danger lingered, a constant reminder of the darkness that had touched our lives. A threat so real, it drove us out of our home until it could be rectified. Lark’s stupid decisions left a bitter taste in my mouth, making me resent her—something that fills me with guilt.

Now, as I sit beside Juniper’s hospital bed, I feel the weight of the past pressing down on me. The memories are a mix of love and pain, joy and sorrow. Juniper stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and I lean down to kiss her forehead, whispering a silent promise to always be there for her. She is my strength, my reason to keep going, and I will never let her down.

4

DALLAS

The nightclub was in full swing, its pulsing music and neon lights creating a chaotic symphony that matched my internal turmoil. My office, usually a sanctuary from the club’s frenzy, feels more like a pressure cooker. I’m buried in paperwork, trying to juggle the night’s schedule, when Calli bursts in, her face tight with concern.

I barely look up from the spreadsheets in front of me. “What is it now, Calli?”

“Dallas, I need to talk to you about Willow,” she starts. “She won’t be able to come in tonight. She had an emergency.”

My patience snaps. “I’m tired of this, Calli! Get her ass into work. I’m fed up with her incompetence. This is the second time this month she’s bailed on us!”

Calli’s eyes flash with anger, and she squares her shoulders. “You’re a terrible person, Dallas. Willow is at the hospital with her daughter, who is very sick. How can you be mad about that?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Her daughter?" I echoed, the shock clear in my voice. "Willow has a child?"

"Yes, she does, and Juniper is seriously ill right now. Willow doesn't need bullshit from you," Calli snapped, crossing her arms defiantly.

The room seems to spin as I process this new information. The weight of it presses down on me like a lead blanket. Juniper, sick? My mind races with questions and guilt. Without another word, I storm out of the office, my footsteps echoing in the hallway. Calli stares after me, a mix of confusion and anger in her eyes, her posture rigid with defiance. As the door slams shut behind me, the reality of the situation hits me full force, leaving me reeling and breathless. Willow is a mom.

The drive to the hospital is a blur, my knuckles white as I grip the steering wheel. Each red light feels like an eternity, my impatience growing with every passing second. My thoughts race, tangled with memories of every harsh word I’ve ever tossed at Willow. How could I be so oblivious to her situation? The guilt gnaws at me, each mile stretching the tension tighter until it feels like a taut wire ready to snap.

When I finally pull into the hospital parking lot, I barely register the lines on the asphalt as I haphazardly parked the car. The sterile smell of disinfectant and the hum of fluorescent lights greet me as I enter, a stark contrast to the pulsing, chaotic atmosphere of the club.

It doesn’t take long to find them. Through the small window of a private room, I see Willow slumped over the bed, her head resting on the edge, and a small girl with dark hair sleeping beside her. The sight tugs at something deep within me.

As I enter the room quietly, trying not to wake them, Juniper’s eyes flutter open. She looks at me with a mix of curiosity and fear.

“Are you here to take me away?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper but enough to stir Willow.

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