Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
John left his car in town. Zoe drove.
She hadn’t told him where they were going, but he didn’t care. She was at the wheel—that was enough.
Once they passed the edge of Good Hope, the road narrowed, framed by rows of apple trees heavy with fruit. Morning sunlight filtered through the branches, dappling the dash in soft gold.
Then, without warning, Zoe veered hard right into what looked like a gap in the trees.
John’s brows lifted. “Is this even a road?”
Zoe just smiled behind her oversized, blue-rimmed sunglasses and kept driving.
A breeze ruffled her hair as she hummed—low and off-key, like the melody was more for her than him. And he liked that. Liked that she didn’t fill the silence just to fill it. She made it okay to simply be.
He settled deeper into the seat, breathing in the crisp scent of pine as the orchard gave way to dense evergreens. What he’d assumed was a single-lane trail revealed itself to be just wide enough for two vehicles—barely.
Wherever she was taking him, it wasn’t marked on any map. But the deeper into the trees they went, the more he wanted to follow.
The trees parted, and a gravel lot opened before them like a hidden clearing. Zoe pulled in and parked.
“Where are we?” he asked, stepping out and glancing around.
“Rakes property,” she said, joining him. “Jeremy ran for mayor a few years back. Now he’s back to running the orchard. His wife, Fin, handles town PR.”
She reached for his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He laced their fingers without hesitation.
“Come with me.”
They followed a worn path toward a wide, glinting pond. On the far edge stood a weathered red hut, paint peeling, a hand-carved sign above the door. Several benches lined the shoreline, softened by moss and time.
John took in the hush of water, the trill of birdsong, the quiet that felt like a held breath.
“They use this for pond hockey and skating,” he guessed, eyeing the stacked boards near the hut.
Zoe smiled. “Exactly.”
They reached the path circling the pond, and she gave his hand a little swing. “Feel like taking a stroll?”
“Absolutely.” She’d left her sunglasses in the car, and he was glad. It meant he could see the twinkle in her eyes and the soft flush on her cheeks from the breeze.
Birds darted overhead. Pine needles crunched underfoot. A red squirrel shot across the path and disappeared into a tree.
The moment felt stolen. Timeless.
“I’m glad you brought me here,” he said, voice low with sincerity.
She smiled, pleased. “You understand now.”
He nearly reached for her, ready to close the space between them.
But she slipped her hand from his and stepped toward the hut.
“See this?” She ran her fingers along the wood, her tone shifting from soft to energized. “When we talked about the Grind getting more involved with community events, I knew I had to show you this place.”
His breath caught. “Oh.”
“It’s not just winter sports,” she continued, bright with ideas. “There’s a S’mores Night in October, rubber duck races in spring and even mini boat building in the summer. The civic groups usually handle concessions out of this hut, but the offerings are inconsistent.”
She turned, her face lit with enthusiasm. “I was thinking—what if the Daily Grind took over refreshments? We could still give the groups a cut of profits, maybe ten percent. That way, everyone wins.”
John stared at her. Something inside him tightened.
They weren’t here for a quiet moment alone by the water.
She’d brought him here for a pitch.
And maybe he’d been foolish when he’d read too much into it. This was what they were supposed to do—scout opportunities, plan community outreach.
Still, it stung.
He’d let himself believe something was growing between them. The handholding. The humming in the car. The silence that had felt full instead of empty.
John reminded himself that it was just Zoe. It was how she’d been in Austin. Friendly. Warm.
Back in Texas, he’d been the guy she laughed with, joked with…but only in the orbit of someone brighter.
She might have married that someone brighter and believed—wholeheartedly—that she’d made the right choice…until she found out the truth.
“John?” Her voice pulled him back. She stepped closer, brushing his arm. “If we think this could work, there’s another place I’d love to show you.”
She was still glowing with hope, still seeing possibilities.
And something in him ached.
“Another potential venue?” he asked lightly, summoning a smile.
Zoe nodded, not seeming to catch the shift. “Cherry Acres. It’s amazing. I think you’ll see the potential right away.”
Of that, he had no doubt. Zoe had a gift for this. Her ideas were sharp. Her instincts solid.
But right now, all he could think was, I wanted this to be personal.
Not another item on her business to-do list.
“Not today,” he said, keeping his tone even. “It’s one of my rare real days off, and I’ve got some personal things to take care of.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “Oh. Okay. I just thought—” She waved a hand, brushing it off. “I understand.”
But the light in her eyes dimmed.
On the way back to the car, they didn’t hold hands.
And on the drive back into town, the silence between them wasn’t peaceful anymore.
It echoed.
A little heavier. A little colder.
John sat in his car in the church parking lot, watching Zoe’s taillights vanish around the corner.
Pulling out his phone, he stared at his favorites list. Zoe’s number was there now—recently added.
He told himself that what happened at the pond was behind him. Just a simple misunderstanding. A misreading of intent.
Now that he was alone, he should’ve been able to think, to process. But the silence wrapped around him like a too-tight sweater. He needed noise. He needed someone who wouldn’t let him spiral.
He tapped Michael’s number.
His brother answered on the third ring, voice rough. “You do realize it’s Sunday and some of us work nights?”
John huffed a breath. “Missed your charm, too.”
“John?” A pause. “Are you in jail?”
“No.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
“Then this better be good.”
“It’s not an emergency,” John said, dragging a hand through his hair. “I just…needed to talk.”
Michael was quiet for a beat, then asked, mock suspicion in his tone, “Are you about to confess something?”
“Not exactly. But it’s complicated.”
Michael sighed. “This about Zoe?”
“What are you, psychic?”
“I’m a cop. Same thing.” His voice sharpened. “What happened?”
John explained what had gone down at the pond—the walk, the moment, the pitch. “I misread the signals. I really thought there was something more between us than business.”
Michael barked out a laugh so loud John had to pull the phone away from his ear.
“Glad my love life’s good for your amusement.”
“Are you kidding? It’s gold. You’re there for a simple work project, and in less than two weeks you manage to fall for your business partner’s daughter…who just happens to be your ex-best friend’s ex-fiancée? That’s some high-level complication, even for you.”
“When you put it like that—”
“There’s no other way to put it.”
John didn’t answer.
Michael’s tone softened. “You really like her.”
“I liked her back in Austin. I just…never acted on it. She was with Erik. Off-limits.” John exhaled. “But now…it feels different. Feels real.” He paused. “I don’t even know why I called.”
“Because you needed your older, wiser brother to sort your life out.”
“You got any advice?”
“Actually, yeah. Give it time. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work itself out. But don’t force it. She might still see you as Erik’s friend, and that’s a mess you can’t shortcut.”
“I could walk away.”
Even as he said it, the words felt wrong.
Michael heard it, too. “Nah. Logans don’t run from messy. We dive in and make it work.”
John smiled despite himself. “You sure you’re not the one who’s insane?”
“Definitely. But you’re the one calling me for advice, so what does that say?”
Zoe didn’t see John on Monday or Tuesday.
Technically, she’d seen him briefly Monday morning, when he’d asked if she wanted to join him for financial forecasting and risk assessment.
She must have looked confused, because he’d explained they’d be analyzing financials, projecting startup costs for national expansion and exploring possible funding models—franchising versus corporate-owned.
While Zoe didn’t mind reviewing spreadsheets after the hard work was done, the steps to get there felt more like a solo mission than a collaboration.
John had smiled when she’d said as much. He hadn’t argued, just nodded—and somehow, she’d gotten the distinct impression he’d seen right through her.
Now it was Wednesday.
They had plans to meet later this afternoon to go over the numbers, but she hadn’t seen him since Sunday.
She told herself that was fine. Normal. Expected.
And yet, as she wiped down the counter at the Daily Grind, her thoughts kept drifting.
She couldn’t stop replaying Sunday in her mind—the cozy breakfast, the drive through the orchard, the warm weight of his hand in hers. And then…the shift. The way he’d pulled back. As if someone had drawn a curtain between them.
No explanation. Just…distance.
The sharp scent of espresso snapped her back to the present.
Business had slowed to a crawl. The tourists were gone, and the local crowd mostly wanted caffeine to go.
It would stay like this for the next few weeks, until the leaves began to turn. By mid-October, visitors would trickle back for the pumpkin patches and fall festivals. Then winter would settle in, quieting the town until Christmas.
And John?
He’d be gone.
Zoe swallowed hard and glanced at the clock. Good thing she was meeting Brynn for lunch soon. She needed a friend—and, more importantly, a distraction.
The bell over the front door jingled, and a gust of crisp air rushed in with a group of teenagers.
Her brother was among them.
Zoe raised a brow. “River? Shouldn’t you be in school?”