Chapter 3 - Jackson
I drive away from Sarah's place with my head spinning. Her words echo as I navigate the familiar roads back to the ranch. A fundraiser. She invited me to a fundraiser. Like we're two normal people who can be in the same room without seven years of regret hanging over us.
Midnight's waiting when I get back, standing a little more alert in her stall. Relief washes through me at the sight. I mix the antibiotics into some sweet feed, watching as she cautiously starts to eat.
"That's it, girl," I murmur, stroking her neck. "This'll have you right as rain soon."
I'm so focused on the mare that I don't hear the footsteps until a voice breaks the quiet of the barn.
"Melissa called. Asked if Midnight's medicine is working."
Cole leans against the stall door, his weight shifted to favor his good ankle. I don't look up from the horse.
"Just gave her the first dose," I answer. "She should improve in a couple of days."
Cole nods, watching me work. Something in his silence feels loaded, like a gun waiting to go off.
"Heard you might've taken a detour on your way back," he finally says.
I freeze for just a second before continuing to check Midnight's water bucket. "News travels fast."
"Small town." Cole shifts his weight. "I was gonna tell you she was back."
Now I do look up, meeting my brother's gaze directly. "When? After her therapy center's been open a year?"
His jaw tightens. "Don't start, Jackson. You know it's complicated."
"What I know," I say, keeping my voice level, "is that my brother's been helping his best friend set up shop half a mile outside town for a month and somehow never thought to mention it."
Cole's eyes narrow. "You gave up the right to know Sarah's business seven years ago when you let her walk away."
The accusation hits like a physical blow, but I keep my face neutral. Cole's always been protective of Sarah, even before we dated. After our breakup, his loyalty to her never wavered, even though blood is supposed to be thicker than water.
"She invited me to her fundraiser," I say, the words coming out as a challenge.
That takes him by surprise. "She what?"
"Saturday night. The community hall." I close Midnight's stall door and face him fully. "Said I should bring my brothers."
"And you're going?"
"I said I would."
He lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Man, you've got some nerve."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Cole says, pushing off from the stall door to stand straight, "that you broke her heart once already. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do it again."
The accusation stings, but it's nothing I haven't told myself a thousand times. "I'm just going to a fundraiser, Cole. Not proposing marriage."
"Yeah? And what happens when she starts to trust you again? When she lets herself believe you might've changed?" Cole takes a step closer, his eyes hard. "You gonna bail again the minute it gets complicated?"
"You don't know what you're talking about," I growl.
"Don't I? I was there, Jackson. I'm the one who helped her pack her apartment. I'm the one who got those 3 AM calls from Seattle when she couldn't sleep because she was still trying to figure out why she wasn't enough to make you leave the ranch."
Shame burns hot under my skin. "It wasn't about her not being enough—"
"Save it," Cole cuts me off. "I'm not the one who needs to hear it."
We stand there in tense silence, the only sound Midnight's occasional snort. Cole and I have butted heads plenty over the years, but this feels different. Deeper.
"She's not the same woman who left," Cole finally says, his voice quieter. "She built something for herself out there. She's stronger now."
"I know that," I say, and I do.
I saw it in the set of her shoulders, the confidence in her eyes when she showed me around her property.
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you're still the same man who couldn't imagine a life beyond these fences." Cole shakes his head. "She deserves better than half measures, Jackson."
The truth of his words settles heavy in my chest.
"I made a mistake," I admit, the words feeling like they're being torn from me. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't regretted it every damn day for seven years?"
Something in Cole's expression shifts. Not softening exactly, but reassessing.
"She asked me to help move a water trough," I continue, needing him to understand. "We had lunch. She invited me to this fundraiser. That's all. I'm not planning anything."
"And if she gave you another chance? What then?"
The question hangs between us. What then, indeed.
"I'd take it," I say simply. "And I wouldn't waste it this time."
"The fundraiser starts at six. She's nervous about the turnout—needs to raise at least fifteen thousand for the specialized equipment."
I recognize the olive branch for what it is. "I'll be there."
"We'll all be there," he corrects. "But Jackson? I'm serious. Don't hurt her again."
"I won't," I promise, and I mean it more than I've meant anything in a long time.
Cole turns to leave, then pauses. "For what it's worth, she never found anyone else she loved as much as you. Not for lack of trying, according to her."
He limps away before I can respond, leaving me with Midnight and a sudden, dangerous feeling that might be hope.
Sarah Matthews is back in Cedar Falls, and somehow, impossibly, she's given me an opening. A chance to show her I'm not the same man who was too afraid to leave the ranch seven years ago.
But Cole's right—she's not the same woman either. She doesn't need me the way she might have back then. This time, if I want her, I'll have to prove I deserve her.
Starting with a fundraiser on Saturday night.
I stroke Midnight's nose one last time. "What do you think, girl? Think your old owner's got one more shot?"
The mare nudges my hand, leaving a smear of medicine-laced feed on my palm. I take it as a yes.
Fundraiser day
The rest of the week crawls by like a wounded animal.
I throw myself into work, mending fences that don't need mending, riding fence lines I know are intact, anything to keep my mind off Saturday night. It doesn't work. Sarah's face keeps appearing in my thoughts—the way she looked standing in the sunshine, dirt on her cheeks, building something entirely her own.
By Saturday afternoon, I'm a bundle of nerves I haven't felt since I was a teenager. I stand in front of my closet, staring at the suit I haven't worn since Aaron's welcome home party three years ago. It probably doesn't even fit anymore.
"You're overthinking it," Ethan says from my doorway, already dressed in pressed slacks and a button-down shirt.
"I'm not overthinking anything," I mutter, pulling the suit from its hanger. "Just making sure it's clean."
Ethan smirks. "Right. That's why you've been staring at it for ten minutes."
I throw a boot at him, which he easily dodges. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
"Yeah, waiting for you. Everyone's ready." He leans against the doorframe. "Vincent's got Lucy in a dress, and she's threatening to stage a revolt if we don't leave soon."
That gets a smile out of me. "Tell them I'll be down in five."
The suit fits, barely. It's a little tight across the shoulders and chest—all that ranch work has built more muscle over the years. I knot my tie with fingers that don't want to cooperate, wishing I'd had the sense to get a haircut. Too late now.
When I come downstairs, the whole family's gathered in the living room. Vincent stands with Charlotte, who's trying to keep Lucy from wiping chocolate on her frilly dress. Aaron and Elena are sitting close together on the sofa, speaking in low tones. Ethan is fiddling with his phone. And Cole—Cole is watching me with a guarded expression.
"Well, look who cleans up nice," Vincent says with a low whistle.
"Shut up," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
Lucy runs up to me, her dark curls bouncing. "Uncle Jackson! You look like a prince!"
I scoop her up, not caring if she smudges my suit. "And you look like a princess, squirt."
"I hate dresses," she announces, "but Charlotte says sometimes we do things we don't like for people we care about."
Charlotte catches my eye over Lucy's head and gives me a knowing smile.
"Smart lady," I tell Lucy, setting her down. "We all ready to go?"
We take two vehicles into town, and the mood in our truck is uncharacteristically quiet. Ethan drives since my legs are bouncing with nervous energy. Cole sits between us, scrolling through his phone.
"You sure about this?" Cole asks as we get closer to town.
"About a fundraiser?" I deflect.
Cole gives me a look. "You know what I mean."
I stare out the window at the familiar landscape slipping by. "I've never been surer of anything," I finally say. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."
"What mistake?" Ethan asks.
"Your brother's in love with Sarah Matthews," Cole tells him bluntly. "Has been for seven years."
"Cole—" I start.
"Oh, that," Ethan says, "I knew that."
Both Cole and I stare at him.
"What?" Ethan shrugs. "It's obvious. You get all weird whenever someone mentions Seattle. And you have that picture of her in your nightstand drawer."
My face heats. "You went through my drawers?"
"Looking for batteries," he says defensively. "Besides, anyone with eyes can see you never got over her."
Cole's expression softens slightly as he turns back to the road. "Just be careful, both of you. There's a lot of water under that bridge."
The community hall is transformed when we arrive. Strings of lights hang across the ceiling, giving the utilitarian space a warm glow. Round tables with white cloths are scattered around a dance floor, and a small stage holds a local band setting up their equipment. It's not fancy by city standards, I'm sure, but for Cedar Falls, it's downright elegant.
The place is already half-full, townsfolk dressed in their Sunday best, mingling and eyeing the silent auction tables along one wall. I scan the room, searching for her.
"Tickets are at the door," Cole reminds me, nodding toward a table where Melissa Walker and her father are collecting money.
I nod absently, still looking. And then the crowd shifts, and there she is.
Sarah stands near the stage, talking with Mayor Henderson, her hands moving animatedly as she explains something. She's wearing a simple dark blue dress that falls just past her knees, her hair swept up to expose the graceful line of her neck. She looks confident. Radiant. Like a woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants.
"Breathe, brother," Aaron murmurs as he passes, Elena on his arm. "You look like you're facing a firing squad."
I swallow hard, straightening my tie. "I'm fine."
"Sure you are." He claps me on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."
That makes me look at him in surprise. Aaron's never been one to weigh in on personal matters.
He shrugs. "Life's too short for regrets. I learned that first in the military and then with Elena."
As Aaron moves away with Elena, Cole steps up beside me. His expression is serious as he places a hand on my shoulder.
"Listen, Jackson. Before you go over there—are you absolutely sure this is what you want? Because if you're just caught up in the moment of seeing her again..." He shakes his head. "Sarah deserves better than that."
I meet my brother's gaze steadily. "I've spent seven years regretting letting her walk away. Seven years wondering 'what if.' I'm not acting on impulse. I’ve told you. I've never been more certain of anything."
"Alright then." A small smile finally cracks his serious expression. "Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you two were always meant to find your way back to each other."
That surprises me coming from him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just don't mess it up this time." He gives my shoulder a squeeze and steps back. "Now go get her."
I take a deep breath, smooth my jacket, and with one last adjustment to my tie, I start making my way across the room. People nod and greet me as I pass, but I barely register them. My focus is entirely on the woman in the blue dress.
Sarah is still deep in conversation, her back partially turned to me. As I approach, Mayor Henderson notices me first, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
"Ah, Jackson Covington! Good to see you, son." He extends his hand, which I shake automatically. "We were just discussing the impact this therapy center could have on our veterans' community."
And then Sarah turns, her eyes finding mine, and the rest of the room seems to fade away. There's surprise in her expression, maybe a touch of nervousness, but something else too—a spark I haven't dared to hope for.
"Jackson," she says, my name soft on her lips. "You came."