Thoughts of Junie

Junie|Thoughts of Junie The House at The End Of The Street; Chapter 4

The cemetery was quiet in the early light. No birdsong, no traffic—just wind threading through bare branches and the crunch of gravel beneath Phoenix’s boots.

He hated this place.

Not because of the dead.

But because this death—Jason’s death—was the one he couldn’t fix. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t run from.

He stopped in front of the grave and crouched, letting out a slow breath. His knuckles brushed against the stone.

Jason Matthew Martin
Beloved husband, father, friend.
1997 – 2023

“You’d hate that they used ‘beloved,’” Phoenix muttered. “You’d say it made you sound like a golden retriever.”

He ran a hand over his face.

“You missed some real shit, man,” he continued. “She’s back. Harper. With a kid. And Summer… she’s still holding it together, somehow. Stronger than me, anyway.”

The wind picked up.

Phoenix dropped to sit cross-legged in the damp grass. “Feels like everything’s picking back up where we left it. Except you. You’re the missing piece, and no one says it out loud, but we all feel it. I do. Every damn day.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

Then
Salem Oaks High, 2012

The gym was chaos. Banners in red and gold flapped from every beam, the drumline thudding like a heartbeat, students screaming as if winning the homecoming game had anything to do with real life.

“And I keep wondering,” he said more softly, “what you’d say if I asked if I still had a right to miss her. If I had the right to wonder if Eden is mine.”

He fell silent for a long moment, letting the ache spread quietly through his chest like it always did when he thought of the three of them—before grief, before time, before regret.

Harper Grace stood in a tight formation with her cheer squad, pom-poms still clenched in her hands, face fixed in a perfect smile. Her high ponytail whipped with each chant, but her eyes wandered—always drifting toward the bleachers.

More specifically, toward him.

Phoenix Montgomery.

Leaning against the railing like he owned the place. Leather jacket. Smirk that could start a fire. The bad boy with knuckles that had seen too many fights and eyes that had seen too much truth. Beside him, Jason—loud, charming, reckless—was hyping up the crowd with exaggerated gestures and mock cheers.

“Harper,” Summer hissed from beside her, elbowing her sharply. “Focus.”

Harper blinked and quickly turned back, her mouth moving through the last chant with muscle memory. Her legs still burned from practice, her smile still felt too tight—but her thoughts were wrapped around the boy in the bleachers who hadn’t taken his eyes off her once.

After the rally, the team spilled into the hallway. Laughter echoed, sneakers squeaked, and the scent of fried cafeteria food drifted in. Summer grabbed Harper’s hand and pulled her out of the crowd.

“Okay, spill,” she said once they ducked around the side of the building into the late afternoon light. “You were practically drooling over him.”

“I was not.”

Summer gave her a look. “Girl. You were seconds from pulling a full cheer routine in his lap.”

Harper laughed, running a hand through her hair. “He was just… looking at me.”

“He always looks at you. You just don’t usually look back.”

Harper hesitated. “Maybe I want to.”

As if summoned by their talk, Jason and Phoenix rounded the corner from the back of the school—Jason with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, Phoenix flipping a lighter between his fingers.

“Well, well,” Jason said, eyes dancing. “If it isn’t Salem Oaks’ own dream girls.”

Summer rolled her eyes. “You’re late.”

“For what?” Jason grinned. “This isn’t detention.”

Phoenix didn’t say anything right away. His gaze flicked over Harper like a quiet touch. “Didn’t know cheerleaders were allowed to sneak off during rally hours.”

“Didn’t know bad boys were allowed in school at all,” Harper shot back, crossing her arms.

That made him smirk. “Touché.”

Jason tossed a crumpled candy wrapper at Summer. “C’mon, we’re grabbing food. You two are coming.”

“Since when do you plan our social calendar?” Summer said, though she was already falling into step beside him.

Harper lingered behind as Phoenix fell into step next to her.

“You did good out there,” he said casually.

“It’s just cheerleading.”

“No,” he said. “You did good. Not the team.”

She tried not to smile, but it crept out anyway.

“You always this smooth?”

“Only when it matters.”

Harper looked at him, their steps falling into rhythm as the four of them walked toward Jason’s beat-up Camaro at the edge of the parking lot.

In that moment, the world felt infinite. High school hadn’t ended yet. Death hadn’t come for Jason. Love hadn’t fractured.

There was still just four of them—laughing too loud, living too fast, and making promises they didn’t yet know they wouldn’t keep.

Now

Phoenix stood, brushing grass from his jeans.

“I should’ve protected you better, Jase,” he said. “I should’ve done a lot of things better.”

He looked down at the grave, jaw clenched.

“And I should’ve told her how I felt… before it was too late.”

He didn’t wait for the wind to answer.

He just turned and walked away.

Harper 

The sound of laughter echoed over the playground—high, bright, innocent.

Eden squealed as she slid down the twisting blue slide, her curls bouncing as she landed at the bottom and bolted right back to the ladder. Ethan was already halfway up again, urging her to “race” even though she always let him win.

Harper sat back on the old bench, her fingers curled around a coffee cup that had long since gone cold. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the grass, but it didn’t warm the ache in her chest.

Beside her, Summer exhaled deeply, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “He looks like him, doesn’t he?”

Harper didn’t have to ask who she meant. She glanced at Ethan—at the same wild smile Jason used to wear when he got away with something. “He really does.”

“I thought maybe it would fade as he got older. But it’s only gotten stronger,” Summer said. Her voice was steady, but her hands fidgeted in her lap. “Every time he laughs, it’s like I get to hear Jason again. It’s beautiful. And impossible.”

Harper reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over Summer’s wrist. “You’re doing amazing with him.”

Summer gave a tight smile. “Most days I feel like I’m winging it. One second I’m pretending I have it all together, the next I’m crying over the smell of his old cologne.”

Harper nodded. She knew that feeling all too well.

They sat in silence for a few beats, just watching the kids. Eden shrieked as Ethan sprayed water from the fountain and splashed her sandals. Her joy was infectious—so full, so effortless.

“I used to think the hardest thing in the world was walking away from New York,” Harper finally said. “But coming back here… being here… feels harder.”

Summer glanced at her. “Because of Phoenix?”

Harper hesitated. “Because of everything. But… yeah. Him too.”

There was a pause. Then Summer said gently, “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know. I saw the way he looked at you in high school. And again at the bakery.”

Harper took a slow breath. “I haven’t seen him in years. And the second I do, it’s like everything I packed away just… exploded. And Eden—she doesn’t even know him.”

Summer studied her face. “Does he know?”

“No.” Harper’s voice was small. “And I don’t even know if… I don’t know how to start that conversation. Or if I should.”

They both fell quiet.

Summer reached down and picked up a leaf, turning it over in her fingers. “You know, after Jason died, people kept telling me I’d be okay. That time would soften it. That I was young, and I’d fall in love again.”

“And did you?” Harper asked softly.

“I fell in love with my son,” Summer said. “And I fell in love with surviving. But I haven’t looked at another man the way I looked at Jason.”

Harper blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes.

“I think I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared that Phoenix will want answers. Scared he won’t. Scared I still want him.”

“You’ve always wanted him,” Summer said. “Even when you pretended you didn’t.”

Harper gave a watery laugh. “That obvious?”

Summer bumped her shoulder. “You were never subtle, H.”

They both looked back toward the kids. Ethan was helping Eden climb the monkey bars, his little hand steadying her back as she stretched for the next rung.

“They’re so good together,” Harper said.

“They are,” Summer agreed. Then: “They deserve the truth. Whatever that ends up being.”

Harper swallowed hard.

She wasn’t ready.

But maybe… she was close.

Flashback — Late Fall, Senior Year

The swings creaked like whispers in the night, their rusted chains slicing through the cold air. The old wooden playground—on the edge of the woods behind Jason’s house—was technically off-limits after dark, but that had never stopped them.

Harper’s boots sank into the mulch as she spun slowly in a circle, arms out like wings, her breath visible in the chilled air. Music still rang faintly from a car parked nearby—Jason’s hand-me-down Toyota with a busted speaker that only played bass correctly if someone kicked it just right.

They’d left the party an hour ago, too loud, too many people, and not enough space to feel anything real. Out here, it was just the four of them again. Just like it had always been.

Jason balanced on top of the jungle gym, arms outstretched as if he was king of the damn world. His laughter echoed, wild and reckless.

“We’re never gonna die!” he shouted to the stars. “You hear that?! Never!”

Summer was lying on her back at the bottom of the slide, giggling up at him. “Get down, idiot! You’re gonna break your leg.”

“Immortals don’t break bones,” Jason called down, grinning. “We’re legends in the making. You, me, Phoenix, and Harper. The gods of Salem Oaks High!”

Harper rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve had one beer and a firecracker in your chest, and now you think you’re immortal?”

Phoenix stood nearby, lighting a cigarette with one hand and tugging Harper’s jacket tighter around her shoulders with the other. “He’s high on his own ego.”

“I am the moment,” Jason yelled.

“You’re a moment away from a hospital visit,” Summer called.

But none of them stopped him. They were too busy soaking in the magic of it.

Phoenix leaned closer to Harper, his voice low. “You ever think about it?”

“About what?”

“Forever.” He flicked ash into the dirt. “About what comes next.”

Harper looked up at the stars. “Sometimes. But mostly I think about now. Because now feels… safe.”

Phoenix was quiet for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

Jason slid down the other side of the bars and landed hard, laughing, arms flung out. Summer ran over, hitting him in the chest before hugging him tightly. He hugged her back like he meant it, like there was no world where she wouldn’t always be his.

Harper watched them, heart full and aching.

Phoenix looked at her again, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “You’re different out here.”

“How?”

“Lighter.”

Maybe she was. Maybe being around the three of them made her feel like she could breathe.

Jason grabbed Summer’s hand and pulled her toward the swings. “You and me, final showdown. Whoever goes the highest wins.”

“You know I’ll beat you.”

“You wish.”

Harper moved toward the monkey bars, fingers brushing the cold metal. Phoenix followed.

“I think we’ll always have this,” she whispered. “No matter what comes after.”

Phoenix didn’t answer. But he touched her wrist gently, just for a second, like he was anchoring her in place.

Like maybe he already knew things wouldn’t stay this simple forever.