Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
NATALIE
I stared out the office window, my eyes roaming over the quaint stores lining Main Street. The scene was so achingly familiar—the corner bakery where Dad used to buy me cinnamon rolls on Saturday mornings, the bookshop where Jasper and I would hide away for hours, lost in stories and each other.
It was our third day in a row visiting Dad's office, and it still felt surreal.
"Natalie? You okay, honey?"
Mom's voice snapped me out of my reverie. I realized I'd been clutching the Ever Eden Orchard brochure in my hand—the one Dad had stashed away in the Everton file—and heat rose in my cheeks.
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."
"About Jasper?"
I gaped at her. "What? No. Why would you think that? "
Mom raised an eyebrow. "Give me a little credit, Nat. I'm your mother."
I sighed, tossing the brochure aside. "Ancient history. It doesn't matter now."
"Doesn't it? The way you two used to look at each other... that kind of love doesn't just go away."
I shrugged and tried to look absorbed in thumbing through a random box of files. "I'm with Liam now. And Jasper made it pretty clear at the funeral that he wants nothing to do with me."
"Can you blame him? The way things ended between you two..."
"I had to leave, Mom. You know that. I was suffocating here."
The words rang hollow. The truth was, I'd been running from more than just the claustrophobia of Sable Point. I'd been running from the intensity of my feelings for Jasper.
I knew deep down that he was it for me. That if I let myself love him fully, I'd never be able to leave. And I'd had plans—college, a career, a life that didn't revolve around apple harvests and small-town gossip.
So I'd broken both our hearts and fled for the city, telling myself it was for the best. That we were too young to know how we truly felt. That our love would never last.
But the joke was on me. Seven years later, and there was an ache so deep in my bones that I feared nothing would ever soothe it.
Seeing Jasper again, feeling that old pull, it made me wonder if I'd been lying to myself all along. Suddenly I was questioning everything I'd thought I wanted.
"I think I'm going to take a walk," I said, suddenly desperate for air and space, "clear my head a bit."
Mom nodded. "Take your time. I'll start sorting through these files, see what I can make sense of."
I kissed her cheek before grabbing my purse and heading for the door. The end-of-May sunshine warmed my skin and a light breeze ruffled my hair. It was still early, and Main Street was quiet. I wandered aimlessly, my feet carrying me past the familiar storefronts and tidy little flower beds.
I had no destination in mind, but I wasn't surprised when I ended up at the edge of the Evertons' orchard. Neat rows of apple trees stretched out before me, and bees hummed lazily from blossom to blossom. The late spring air was sweet with the promise of fruit to come.
So many hours spent here—as a kid, as a teenager, as a young woman drunk on her first love. Jasper and I practically lived in these trees, stealing kisses in the dappled shade, dreaming our big dreams under the stars.
I hadn't realized how much I missed this place. The peace of it, the connection to something older and deeper than myself.
I was pulled from my thoughts by the rumble of an engine, and I turned to see a battered pickup truck bumping down the orchard lane. It pulled to a stop a few yards away, and my heart stuttered as a familiar figure climbed out from behind the wheel.
Jasper.
I drank him in, really looked at him for the first time since my return. His chiseled jaw was dusted with scruff, those incredible cheekbones I used to love tracing with my fingertips were more defined than ever. His shoulders strained against his t-shirt, the fabric pulled taut over hard planes of muscle that definitely weren't there when we were kids.
He was all man now, rugged and powerful and... beautiful. That's the only word for it, as cliché as it sounded. The sight of him made my mouth water and my palms sweat.
A faint scar peeked through the stubble on his chin—he'd had it since he was ten. We were riding our bikes through the orchard, and he hit a fallen branch and rocketed over the handlebars, straight into the trunk of a tree.
It wasn't his only scar. There was another on the crown of his head, hidden beneath unruly chestnut waves and a backwards baseball cap. He had earned that one on the swing set in my backyard. We were fifteen, and he was showing off doing pull-ups—counting them out. When I'd promised him a kiss for each one he completed, he got a little too enthusiastic.
He pulled up too hard and hit his head on a rusty bolt. There was blood everywhere, pouring from the wound on his head. Dad came running when he heard me scream. I remembered how he'd scooped Jasper up in his arms despite the fact that Jasper had several inches and a couple dozen pounds on him. Adrenaline, I guessed.
Mom met us at the truck with a towel while Dad tucked Jasper safely into the backseat with me. "Apply pressure to his head, cricket," Dad instructed.
The memories sent a spasm of pain coursing through my chest, but I forced myself to meet Jasper's eyes—the same smoky amber that still haunted my dreams.
He stopped short when he saw me, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into a chilly mask. "Natalie. What are you doing here?"
His voice was rougher than I remembered, raspier. It sent a shiver skittering down my spine, even as I was bristling at the curt question.
"I was just walking. Needed some air." I lifted my chin. "Is that a problem?"
Something like amusement glinted in his eyes. "No, not a problem. It's a free country."
He moved to the back of the truck and began unloading crates of tools and supplies. I watched the flex of his shoulders, the surety of his movements. He'd always been at home here, in tune with the rhythm of the land. He belonged in Sable Point. I could never imagine him anywhere else.
"How's your mom doing?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
"She's... dealing." I toyed with the strap of my purse, suddenly uncertain. "We were just at Dad's office going through things, trying to decide what to do with the business."
Jasper nodded, avoiding my gaze. "That's good of you. I'm sure she appreciates the help. "
There was no snark there, no hidden barb. But the impersonal politeness stung worse than any insult.
I stepped forward, nerves replaced with bubbling frustration. "Jasper, can we just—can we talk? Like really talk?"
He straightened slowly, his expression guarded. "About what?"
"About..." I waved a hand, encompassing the orchard, the years between us, the yawning chasm of all we'd left unsaid. "About everything. How we left things. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry, I was just?—"
"Natalie. It's fine. It was a long time ago. We were kids."
But it wasn't fine, I could see it in the tension of his jaw, the shadow in his eyes. The wounds I had inflicted were still there, still raw.
"I never meant to hurt you." My whispered words floated between us, and my vision blurred. "I never wanted that."
Something flickered in his expression, a crack in the armor. "I know. But you did."
Three words, simple and devastating. But you did.
They landed like a physical blow, nearly knocking me back a step. Because he was right. I hurt him deeply. Apologies couldn't change that.
"I'm sorry." The words were woefully inadequate, but what else was there to say? "So, you and Sammy, huh?"
Jasper's harsh laugh cut through the air. "What? You didn't think you're still the only person I've fucked, did you?"
I winced at the crude language, so at odds with the gentle boy I once knew. But then, I wasn't the girl I once was either .
I groped for something to say, suddenly desperate to escape this conversation, this suffocating tension. "I—I should go."
I turned to leave, an uncomfortable mix of shame and guilt making my skin tingle. But Jasper's voice stopped me. "Natalie, wait."
I glanced back, worried he was ready to sling another verbal weapon. But he ran a hand through his hair. My heart clenched. I could still read his body language like an open book.
"Look," he said, "I appreciate the apology. And I'm sorry too. For acting like a dick. For how I reacted at the funeral. I was caught off guard, seeing you again. It opened a lot of old wounds."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He took a breath, like he was steeling himself for something.
"I don't know how to do this. How to be around you, talk to you like nothing happened. Like we're just old friends catching up."
"I don't either," I admitted. "But I'd like to try. If... if you're willing."
He was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching mine. "I'll try," he said at last. "But I need some time, Natalie. Time to adjust to you being back, to figure out how I feel about everything."
It wasn't forgiveness, but it was a start. It was more than I expected and more than I deserved. I'd take his tentative olive branch and hold it close.
"Okay." I nodded half a dozen times until I was sure I looked like the bobble head bouncing on the dash of his truck. "Of course I can give you time. As much as you need."
"Thank you," he said quietly. There was relief in his eyes and something warmer, more familiar. A glimpse of the twelve-year-old boy who used to look at me like I hung the moon.
I offered a wobbly smile. "I should probably get back. Mom's waiting."
He nodded, stepping back. "Yeah, I've got to get this stuff unloaded. I'll see you around, I guess."
"Sure. See you around," I echoed.
I turned and walked away, retracing my steps through the town. But this time, my heart felt lighter. I had blown my chances with Jasper, but maybe I could lay the ghost of our relationship to rest before I went back to the city. It was the right thing to do. The healthy thing to do. Hoping for anything else would be madness. My career, my future, and my life were in Chicago. I had left Sable Point behind a long time ago.
Still, as I made my way back to Main Street, I felt a rush of affection for the place that I hadn't felt for years. I thought of Dad, of the pride he always had in this town. Of the legacy he left behind. I wanted to honor that. I couldn't stay here, but I should stick around long enough to make sure his clients were in safe hands. Even if it meant I had to stay a little longer than I planned.