Chapter Twenty-One
Jinnie
W e make our way back to the food area. There are so many offerings. It all looks so good. And terribly unhealthy at the same time. Jack’s walking beside me, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a soft smile playing on his lips. I sneak a glance at him, trying to figure out if he’s as relaxed as he looks.
He catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks warm. “You look like you’re actually having fun.”
He chuckles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am. Believe it or not, this is exactly what I needed. No crowds, no pressure. No chores waiting. I feel like, for the first time in a really long time, I can just be.”
His words hit hard. There’s something about Jack that feels so real. Like he’s not trying to be anything other than himself when he’s with me. It’s refreshing, especially after years of feeling like I had to shrink myself to fit into my small town’s expectations. I’m glad I get to be the one to watch him truly relax. He deserves it. I want him to be able to enjoy what’s left of his youth before the big, wide world chews him up and possibly spits him out.
We pass a booth selling handmade jewelry, and I pause to admire a delicate silver bracelet with tiny charms shaped like stars. The vendor smiles at me knowingly.
“That one’s called ‘Wish Upon a Star,’” she says. “Perfect for dreamers.”
I glance at Jack, who nods. “I like it. We’ll take it.”
“Jack, no.” I laugh. “You’re blowing all your hard-earned money.”
“It’s not hard-earned when it’s fun,” he quips.
He quickly pays for the bracelet and then insists on putting it on my wrist. I stare at it and find it all so perfect for this moment. Jack is a rising star. One day, five years down the road, I’m going to look at this bracelet and remember the guy who bought it for me. He’ll probably be playing sold-out stadiums by then.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes, fine. I love it.”
We start walking again. And then his fingers are brushing the back of my hand. He doesn’t look at me, just casually takes my hand in his. My fingers thread through his and hold on tight to his bigger, stronger hand. A little thrill of excitement tears through me.
“You sure you’re okay missing your gig tonight?” I ask.
He shrugs, one hand loose on the wheel. “Aggie threatened to fire me if I didn’t take a night off.”
I laugh. He chose this. Chose me over the stage, even just for one night.
We stop at a booth and buy an elephant ear to share.
“I really need a burger or something,” he groans. “I’ve eaten way too much sugar.”
“Do you want a burger? Nachos? Corndog?”
“Yes.”
I can’t help but laugh again. “All right, then.”
We make our way to the food tents, Jack’s hand still warm in mine. The smell of sizzling meat and greasy fries fills the air. My stomach growls in anticipation.
“Burgers?” he asks, nodding toward a truck with a line wrapping around the side.
“And fries,” I add. “And maybe a corndog.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re gonna explode.”
“It’s the fair. Exploding is part of the experience.”
We join the line, and while we wait, Jack lets go of my hand to pull out his wallet. I don’t argue—he’s been insistent on paying for everything today, and honestly, it’s kind of sweet. When we finally reach the front, he orders two cheeseburgers, a corndog for me, and a giant basket of fries to share. The guy behind the counter hands over our food in a greasy paper bag. We find an empty picnic table under a shaded tree.
I unwrap my corndog first, taking a bite before it even hits the table. It’s hot and crispy, and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan of appreciation. Jack laughs through a mouthful of burger, ketchup smudging the corner of his mouth.
“Good?” he asks, wiping his face with a napkin.
“So good,” I say around another bite. “You’re missing out. I love fair food.”
“Do you have to be back early?” he asks.
“Nope. You?”
“No. Aggie will be at the bar until late, so I’m free. That’s such a strange feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m still trying to get used to the idea I don’t have to rush back home to feed calves on time or get hay thrown out or the millions of other things. That’s not even counting stuff around the house. It feels weird to just be sitting here.”
“Weird in a good way?”
He grins. “In a very good way. The best way.”
“Good. Then lean in to that feeling. Just enjoy it. I have a feeling you’ve earned it.”
“What about you?” he asks. “You grew up on a farm. A different kind, but I’m guessing there was lots of work to do.”
“Yeah, there was always work to do,” I say, wiping my greasy fingers on the napkin. “But it was different from what you’re describing. My parents...they’re not the type to rush through life. They’re more about taking their time, you know? Like, we’d spend hours in the garden together—Mom planting flowers, Dad tinkering with the irrigation system, and me just sitting in the dirt pulling weeds or hunting for worms. It wasn’t work work. It was slow. Peaceful, almost. They are all about communing with nature.”
Jack nods, listening intently as he eats a fry. “That sounds nice.”
“It was,” I say, smiling at the memory. “After lunch, Mom would always take a nap in the hammock out back. She’d lay there with a book propped open on her chest, and eventually, she’d just doze off. Dad would wander off to his workshop or sometimes join her for a snooze.” I pause, picking at the edge of my corndog wrapper. “I’d usually curl up on the porch swing and listen to the windchimes. It was like the whole world just stopped for a little while.”
“Sounds like a good way to grow up,” Jack says softly.
“It was,” I say with a shrug. “If I tell you something, promise you won’t laugh?”
He pretends to think about it for a minute. “Can I try to promise?”
“Fine. My parents spend time in the garden and the greenhouse talking to the plants. Communing with nature.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to burst into laughter.
Instead, he shrugs. “Makes sense. If I had a garden, I think I’d want to just hang out.”
This man is a dream. Why couldn’t I have met him a year ago? Instead...well, instead, I met the wrong one.
“This is nice,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
He looks at me, like really looks at me. “I think so, too.”
I want to tell him. I should tell him. He deserves the truth. But I can’t. I don’t want to ruin this moment. We finish eating and walk around the fair, hand in hand. It’s well after seven when we’re both ready to go.
On the way, he points to a sign. “Want to get something for dinner? I’m hungry.”
I grin. “Sure.”
I’m all about prolonging our day together. I’m not really hungry, but if it means spending more time with him, I’m up for it.
Jack orders a BLT, his favorite, he says, while I choose a cobb salad. “After all that greasy food, my body is dying for greens,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I should have gone with a salad, but I can’t resist bacon.”
“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”
“So, what do you want to do? Like, long-term?”
“I’d really love to get into marketing,” I tell him.
“Like, live in New York City and work in one of those tall buildings?”
“Maybe,” I say. “It doesn’t need to be New York, but I’m not going to find the job I want sitting around here.”
“I’m not going to encourage you to skip town, but sometimes you have to chase your dreams,” he says. “It’s scary as hell, but I wouldn’t change anything. I’m glad I’ll never have to bottle-feed a calf just to fatten it up and send it of to be...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
“You have a big heart,” I say.
He shrugs. “Maybe. I mean, obviously I’m not opposed to hamburgers and bacon. I just don’t think I’m cut out to know my food before I eat it.”
“I get that,” I say. “I think I’d feel the same way. It’s one thing to buy meat from the store. Quite another to look a cow in the eye and know it’s going to be dinner.”
Jack nods, his expression thoughtful. “Exactly. That’s why I could never stick with farming. Too much weight to it. My brothers gave me hell for it. My dad, well, it just pissed him off.”
“You have a heart and I like that you do.”
“So, New York, huh? You think you’d ever really go?”
I shrug. “Maybe. It’s not so much about the place as it is about the opportunity. I just don’t want to feel stuck, you know? Like there’s more out there for me, and if I don’t go after it now, I might never get the chance.”
He nods slowly, like he understands exactly what I mean. “I felt the same way when I left home. Like, if I didn’t leave then, I’d wake up one day and realize I missed my shot.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “It’s scary, though. Leaving everything familiar behind.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But sometimes scary is good. It means you’re doing something big.”
It’s amazing how well he gets me. I feel like I could talk to him all night and we’d never run out of stuff to talk about. He’s not judging me. He’s not criticizing me. He’s just there. Solid. Warm. Sexy.
Our meals are delivered to the table. We start eating, talking more about who we are.
In the back of my mind, I just keep thinking what if? What if I had waited to meet him? I ran headlong into the worst decision of my life. It was a lesson in patience. I should have just waited. Is it too late? Did I miss my chance? There’s this perfect guy and I can’t tell him the one thing he deserves to know.