Chapter 2 - Sarah
I can't believe I just did that.
Jackson Covington stands frozen with his hand on his truck door, his broad shoulders tensed as if he's been caught in headlights. I hardly recognize my own voice as it hangs in the air between us.
"Jackson? Would you like to have lunch? I know it's only noon and you usually eat later, but I'm tired, and I could use the company."
The invitation surprises me as much as it clearly surprises him. I hadn't planned it—just like I hadn't planned on asking him to help with the water trough. But seeing him turn to leave, watching those familiar bowlegged steps taking him away from me again, something inside me couldn't let him go. Not yet.
Seven years. Seven years of building a life without him, of waking up in Seattle's endless rain and telling myself I'd made the right choice. Of dating men who were perfectly nice, perfectly suitable, who never made me feel even half of what I felt when Jackson simply walked into a room.
And now here he is, right in front of me, looking even better than I remembered. The years have been kind to him—more silver in his dark hair, more lines around his eyes, but his body seems even more solid, more grounded. The kind of man who knows exactly who he is and where he belongs.
The kind of man who let me leave.
"Lunch?" he echoes, blinking like he's not sure he heard me correctly.
I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly conscious of how I must look—dirt-streaked overalls, hair a mess, probably smudges on my face.
"Nothing fancy. I've got sandwiches in the cooler. But if you need to get back to Midnight—"
"No," he says quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, yes. Lunch would be good. She'll be fine for another hour."
I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral even as my heart races faster. "Great. We can sit on the porch. It's actually clean, unlike everything else around here."
As I lead him toward the old farmhouse, I'm aware of his towering presence behind me. I straighten my shoulders, lifting my chin slightly. I'm not the same woman who left Cedar Falls with a broken heart and stars in her eyes. I've built something of myself—a respected program, a reputation in a field I love. I came back on my terms, not his.
The front porch of Miller Place has always been its best feature—wide planks of weathered wood stretch across the entire front of the house, with a view of rolling pastureland that seems to go on forever. I cleaned it first thing after closing on the property, needing somewhere peaceful to drink my coffee in the mornings.
"Have a seat," I tell him, gesturing to one of the wooden chairs I'd splurged on. "I'll get the food."
Inside, I grab the cooler from the kitchen counter, my hands shaking slightly. What am I doing? Jackson Covington is the last person I should be having lunch with. The man who chose his ranch over our future. The reason I've spent seven years comparing every date to an impossible standard.
But I can't deny the little spark of satisfaction I felt seeing his reaction to my place. To the life I'm building without him. Maybe that's why I asked him to stay—to show him exactly what he missed out on.
Or maybe, a small voice whispers, you just wanted a few more minutes with him.
I shake the thought away and head back outside.
Jackson sits with his hat on his knee, staring out at the pasture. The sunlight catches in his hair, highlighting the silver at his temples. Something twists in my chest at the sight of him looking so at home on my porch.
"Ham and cheese or turkey?" I ask, setting the cooler down between us.
"Ham, if that's all right." He reaches for the sandwich I offer, our fingers brushing briefly. I pull back quickly, settling into my chair.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. It should be awkward, but somehow it's not. That was always our way—comfortable in quiet together. Cole used to tease us about it, saying we could have entire conversations without speaking.
"So," Jackson finally says, "equine therapy. You always talked about it, but I wasn't sure it was more than a dream."
I look at him sideways. "Dreams can become reality if you're willing to take risks for them."
He winces slightly, and I regret the barb immediately. It's too easy to fall into bitterness.
"The center in Seattle was incredible," I say, softening my tone. "We worked with kids with all kinds of challenges—physical disabilities, autism, trauma. The horses... you should see what happens when a child who hasn't spoken in years whispers their first words into a horse's ear."
His expression warms, and for a moment, I see the Jackson I fell in love with—the man whose gruff exterior hid a heart so tender it took my breath away.
"And now you're bringing it home," he says.
"Cedar Falls needs something like this," I reply, brushing crumbs from my lap. "And I missed my town. The mountains. The space to breathe."
What I don't say: I missed you. Every day. In ways that never seemed to ease with time.
"The Millers would be happy to see the place coming back to life," Jackson offers. "Especially with something that helps folks."
I nod, taking a sip from my water bottle. "That's the plan. We open in six weeks, once the renovations are done and the horses are settled. I've already got a waiting list of clients."
"Impressive," he says, and there's genuine admiration in his voice.
"What about you?" I ask, turning the conversation away from me. "How's the ranch?"
His face lights up the way it always did when talking about Covington land.
"Good. We expanded the cattle operation last year. Aaron's back from deployment for good now, helping with that side of things. And Vincent's little girl is getting big—riding her own pony now."
"And you?" I press. "Are you happy, Jackson?"
The question slips out before I can stop it, more revealing than I intended. His eyes meet mine, startled by my directness.
"I'm..." he begins, then stops, reconsidering. "The ranch is doing well."
Not what I asked, and we both know it.
A silence falls between us, heavier than before. In the distance, a meadowlark calls, the sound piercing and sweet across the open land.
"Why did you come back, Sarah?" he finally asks, his voice low. "Really?"
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze.
"Because this is where I'm supposed to be. It took seven years in Seattle to realize that Cedar Falls wasn't what was holding me back." I meet his eyes steadily. "It was never about the place, Jackson."
Understanding passes across his face like a cloud shadow. "Sarah—"
But I stand up, gathering our lunch wrappers. I'm not ready for whatever he's about to say. Not yet.
"I should get back to work," I say briskly. "And you have a sick horse waiting."
He rises slowly, settling his hat back on his head. "Right."
We walk to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath our boots. When we reach it, he turns to face me, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.
"Thank you for lunch," he says formally.
"You're welcome." I cross my arms, the afternoon sun warm on my back. "And thank you for helping with the water."
He nods, opening his door. I should let him go. Should walk away first. But something keeps me rooted to the spot.
"Jackson," I hear myself say as he's about to climb in. "The center is having a fundraiser next Saturday night. At the community hall. Nothing too fancy. You should come."
"A fundraiser," he repeats.
"Yes. Bring your brothers. It's for a good cause." I keep my tone casual, as if I'm not offering an olive branch seven years in the making.
"Are you sure you want me there?"
The question is loaded with everything we're not saying. I square my shoulders.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
Something shifts in his expression—a softening around the eyes, a slight easing of the tension in his jaw. "Then I'll be there."
I nod, stepping back from his truck. "Good."
As he drives away, dust billowing behind his truck, I realize my heart is pounding. I just invited Jackson Covington to my fundraiser—the man who broke my heart—the man I've never been able to forget.
If he wants another chance, he's going to have to work for it. I've spent seven years building a life without him, becoming the woman I was always meant to be. I won't go backward, won't compromise my dreams again.
But as I watch his truck disappear down the road, I can't deny the truth that's followed me all the way from Seattle: there's a reason I never found anyone else. There's a reason I came back to Cedar Falls.
If Jackson Covington is finally ready to fight for me, I might just let him try.