Chapter Eighteen #3
When Heather saw Luke, she ran from behind the counter and hugged him tight. Luke’s laughter echoed through the shop as he hugged her back. Watching them, a knot twisted in my chest, a pang of longing for the bond I’d once shared with Lila.
I walked away, letting them have a little space. My fingers skimmed the racks of the dresses, and one of them, a long yellow floral one with puffy sleeves and delicate ruched trim across the chest, caught my eye. Its soft color hinted at the upcoming summer.
“You should try it on,” Heather said, walking away from Luke. She pulled the dress from the rack and held it up to my body. “It would look great against your skin.”
I shook my head. “No…I don’t need a dress. Where would I wear it?”
“To Bonfire,” Heather said. “It’s nice to get dressed up every now and then.”
Before I could protest further, Heather guided me toward a dressing room and hung the dress on a hook. “Come out and let us see it.”
I turned and faced myself, taking in my full-length reflection for the first time in months.
Luke was right: I wasn’t the same person I was when I arrived.
I blinked, giving my mind a second to catch up to the image in front of me.
The hollows in my cheeks had filled with a natural curve, the sharpness replaced by softness.
My skin glowed with a coppery hue, and my arms and legs were toned with sculpted muscles rippling beneath the surface.
My curves had shifted, and the soft roundness of my breasts had poured back in.
My body had evolved into something both familiar and new. I was a new woman made over.
I ran my hands down my naked body. This was the version of myself that Jackson had seen, not the fragile woman of my arrival. This was the woman he’d pleaded with last night, who’d kissed him in the rain. And as I looked at her, I found myself liking her too.
Heather’s voice called from outside the dressing room, “Come out! We want to see!”
“Just a second,” I said, carefully slipping into the dress.
The fabric was soft against my skin. I took one last look in the mirror, marveling at the beauty of the dress and my body in it, and felt a thrill of self-discovery.
It is a great thing to realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself.
Makes you wonder what else you can do that you’ve never known.
I stepped out, and Luke looked up from his magazine. Heather stood by the dressing room door.
“Holy shit, Leigh,” Luke said, his eyes traveling from my head to my toes. “You look incredible.”
“I think it’s too tight,” I said, tugging at the fabric that has melted over my body. The dress wrapped around my waist tight, drawing it in, my cleavage spilled over the top, and my leg peeked out from the thigh split.
“That’s how it’s supposed to fit,” Heather said. “It’s perfect.”
I continued pulling and stretching the material.
“Trust me,” Heather said, stepping closer with a smile. “You look so good. Jack’s going to love it.”
The thought of Jackson seeing me in this dress sent a rush of excitement through me, the anticipation curling through every inch of my skin.
I could almost feel his eyes on me already, the thought thrilling and arousing.
My fingers tightened around the fabric, knowing I owed him an apology, something more than just words—but the idea of showing him, of proving it somehow, felt like a good to start.
As I stood there, it all became painfully clear.
I had been blind and stubborn, convinced I could protect his heart by pushing him away while simultaneously shattering it.
We were in this now, and there was no turning back.
I didn’t know what the future was; it loomed ahead like an uncharted sea.
But despite what was to come, one truth remained unshakable: I wanted this. I wanted Jackson.
My time left on the Flower Farm felt like a gift, already borrowed and ticking away.
In that moment, I vowed to immerse myself in the present with a passion that bordered on recklessness.
What had I walked away for if not this? To find myself, to be reborn.
Falling in love, though, had never been part of the plan.
It had come like a storm—wild, unexpected, and overwhelming.
Yet there I was, realizing that perhaps the very heart of my journey wasn’t in avoiding these feelings, but surrendering to them.
“Do you really think he’ll like it?” I said, glancing once more at my reflection.
Luke stood, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Of course he will. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but Jack would like you if you wore a potato sack.”
Heather slapped Luke across his arm.
“What?” Luke said, raising his hands defensively. “You women dress up for other women, not for us. We don’t care about dresses and makeup. You think we do, but we don’t. You don’t have to go all out for us. We’re simple.”
Heather gave him another playful slap. “Don’t listen to him.”
“All I’m saying,” he said, protecting himself from her gentle slaps, “is that he’s going to like that dress better on the floor.”
Heather pointed a finger toward the door. “Out!”
“See what I get for trying to help?” Luke said, shaking his head as he headed toward the door. “I’ll be in the truck.”
As the door closed behind him, Heather turned back to me and smoothed out the dress one more time. Then she touched my hair. “You know…a friend of mine has naturally curly hair, and she puts this stuff in it to enhance it. I can get you some if you’d like.”
An hour later, we were back in the truck, headed for home after making one final, quick stop at Piggly Wiggly to pick up a few things for dinner.
We didn’t usually eat together on Sundays, but I wanted to cook a special meal for Jackson.
When we arrived home, I set to work. Soon, the sizzle of pork chops, the aroma of smothered potatoes, the earthy scent of greens, and the buttery smell of cornbread filled the kitchen.
Luke, ever opportunistic, popped in and out of the kitchen, tasting and stealing bites.
After putting the final touches on the meal, I retreated to the bathroom for a long shower.
The hot water cascaded over me, and I applied the conditioner Heather had given me.
She was right. As I massaged it into my curls, I marveled at how dehydrated they were.
The cream seemed to breathe new life into my hair, coaxing out a bounce I had never seen before, and I let them tumble freely, unruly and wild.
Finally, I slipped on the dress and went back into the kitchen, feeling as if the reflection in the mirror was no longer the only thing transformed.
“They’re still not back yet?” I asked.
Luke, already fixing his plate, glanced up. “No, and I’m starving. I’m eating without them.”
“Don’t you want to wait? They shouldn’t be much longer now.”
Luke let out a resigned sigh. “We’re not eating together. Not when Jack sees you in that dress and I’m too hungry to wait for y’all to figure your shit out.”
“Go ahead,” I said, smiling despite myself. “I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be back.”
Just then we heard the familiar rumble of Jackson’s truck in the driveway.
“No, you won’t,” Luke said, already digging into his plate. “See you in the morning. Oh…can you make some more cinnamon rolls?”
Outside, I smoothed my dress and my curls, then took a deep breath before heading toward the truck.
The door swung open—it was not Jackson but Tibb who stepped out. He tossed his gloves into the truck bed with a lazy flick and leaned against it, his eyes fixed on me with an approving nod. “Damn, girl,” he said, a smirk spreading across his face. “You look good. Healthy. Strong.”
“I have you to thank for it.”
He shook his head, a grin on his lips. “You did all the work.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Where’s Jack?”
“Jack?” Tibb said, crossing his arms and nodding, seeming to understand the significance in my calling him that. “He wanted to check on a fence. He’s walking down from across the field. He’s in a mood, but you in that dress will help.”
I turned to see Jackson’s shadow approaching. “I’m going to go and say hi.”
Tibb chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I smiled to myself as I walked toward Jackson, the moonlight casting shadows on the path before me.
Each step I took felt like treading on fragile ground.
The closer I got, the more the butterflies in my stomach stirred, fluttering with an intensity that bordered on panic.
I didn’t know what I wanted to say; the words were still a jumble in my mind.
All I knew was that I had to make this moment right.
Jackson didn’t notice me at first. His hulking body moved slowly, his attention on the budding plants stretching toward the sky, their green tips moving in the breeze.
He seemed lost in the beauty of the night until he noticed me.
Then he stopped; his eyes blinked once, twice, sluggish, and his breath drew in sharply. Slowly, his gaze shifted toward me.
“I cooked,” I said, my voice catching as I pointed back to the house. “I made pork chops. I know those are your favorite. I figured y’all would be hungry.”
Jackson stepped closer, but he remained quiet.
“Luke and I went to Camden today,” I continued, my words spilling out. “We saw Heather. She convinced me to buy this dress.” I tugged at the fabric. “She also gave me this stuff for my hair too.” My fingers brushed at the ends. I was talking too fast, too much.
Jackson’s quiet felt like an impenetrable wall. I couldn’t read him, and that gnawed at me.
“You were right,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
“I was—am—scared. I’ve never felt this way before.
I don’t know how to accept love from something that scares me.
” Each confession felt like medicine to my ill soul.
It was all I could do, all I could offer him, all I could manage. “Say something, please.”
His ravenous eyes devoured me as he took both of my hands into his, kissing them, and the space between us vanished as if it never existed.
“Look at you…” His voice stuttered in a mix of awe and disbelief.
His thumb traced the curve of my cheek, and his other hand moved up the nape of my neck and into my hair.
“I saw you in the field, and I thought I was dreaming.”
I slid my hands up his chest, pressing them there, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingers. I touched his face. “I’m real.”
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He closed his eyes, exhaled, and opened them again. “I’m in, Leigh. I meant everything I said yesterday. All of it and maybe a little more. But I need you to be in it with me. I can’t be alone in this. Let’s be scared together.”
Jackson never acted on impulse. Every movement, every decision, was deliberate and considered.
This moment was no different. He had weighed our possibilities and had chosen this path.
All that remained for me was to make the same choice.
It seemed unfair that he had come to this conclusion without knowing the full extent of my truth.
If he had known, perhaps he would have chosen differently.
But what he did know—my flaws, my insecurities—was enough for him.
I was enough for him. He wanted this—me, as I was, and all my broken pieces.
“What are we going to do?” I whispered.
Jackson cupped the sides of my face with both hands, our foreheads touching. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. In that uncertainty, I knew he felt it as much as I did. “We will figure it out together.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, my last ounce of fight roaring to the surface.
He smiled, and it was maddening. “You keep saying that. You can’t hurt me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”
He stared at me, his gaze intense, lingering on my face as if he were seeing me anew, the wholeness he spoke of yesterday.
His eyes slowly drifted to my lips, then back to my eyes as if weighing something unspoken between us.
He wanted to kiss me but took his time, drinking up all the details of my face, the newness that was me.
Because he had all the time in the world.
Because time stops when two people give themselves over to a force stronger than themselves.
I held my breath, unsure whether to move or stay perfectly still.
He leaned in closer, his thumb brushing the soft skin of my cheek, his touch featherlight yet impossibly grounding.
His breath brushed my face, and I melted into putty in his embrace, every part of me surrendering to his touch, as if my body no longer belonged to me.
His lips hovered over my lips, floating, soft, before he pressed them against mine.
Only it was not just a kiss. It was a promise that I was safe with him, that my feelings were not a misstep.
In this kiss was everything I had and everything we were handed over to each other.
Our souls ripped wide-open and our whole hearts on display.
I kissed him back, and I fell to a place I had never known I was waiting for.
There was passion.
There was lust.
There was love.
And then there was this.
Jackson pulled back and looked down at my dress, before lifting me and spinning me around, his face buried in my neck. “This dress,” he growled. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Like it?”
His confirmation vibrated through his lips.
“Promise me something,” I whispered.
“Anything.”
“No matter what. Remember this. Remember me standing here in this dress. Remember everything about this moment.”
He looked at me. “I’ll never forget it.”
Jackson placed my feet back on the ground, took my hand, and started walking toward my cabin.
“We should tell them we’re not eating with them.”
“Did they see you in this dress?”
“Yes.”
“Then they know.”
I laughed. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not for food.”