20. Jackson
Jackson
I stare at the small velvet box nestled between folded shirts in my suitcase, my heart racing like I'm a teenager again. The diamond daisy design took weeks to finalize with the jeweler—preserving my grandmother's stone while creating something uniquely her .
"Did you pack my extra phone charger?" Tarryn calls from the bathroom, her voice echoing slightly off the tile.
I quickly tuck the box deeper into my luggage, covering it with a sweater. "Got it. Along with your book and that lavender lotion you can't sleep without."
Her laugh drifts through my apartment. It’s been two months since we both accepted the roles in New York and we're finally taking a weekend away, back to where it all began.
Tarryn appears in the doorway, toothbrush in hand, hair twisted up in a messy bun that exposes the elegant line of her neck. "I don't need the lotion," she protests, though we both know she absolutely does.
"Sure, and I don't need coffee in the morning." I zip the suitcase closed, securing her secret inside. "You ready for this? Going home?"
Her expression softens as she leans against the doorframe. “Of course, going home always feels so relaxing. No work emergencies, no more weird surprises leaving us to make huge life decisions like promotions.”
If only she knew.
The miles between Chicago and Maple Ridge unspool like a thread connecting our present to our past. Tarryn dozes in the passenger seat, her breathing deep and even as I navigate through increasingly familiar back roads.
She stirs as we exit the highway, blinking into consciousness as recognition dawns. "We're almost there," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep, straightening in her seat.
"Welcome back, sleepyhead." I reach across the console to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, the casual intimacy of the gesture still sometimes catching me off guard—that I can touch her like this now, whenever I want. "Perfect timing."
The Maple Ridge welcome sign appears, freshly painted but otherwise unchanged. My pulse quickens as we pass landmarks from our youth—memories flooding back with each familiar sight.
"Oh my God, look at Rosie's Diner!" Tarryn exclaims, pointing at the chrome-and-neon establishment where we spent countless hours studying, her feet tangled with mine under Formica tables. "Remember when you tried to impress me by doing that five-pound burger challenge?"
"And failed spectacularly." I laugh, the memory crystal clear despite the years. "You kissed me anyway."
"You looked so pitiful, how could I not?" Her fingers find mine, squeezing gently.
We drive past the movie theater where we had our first official date—the marquee showing titles I don't recognize, but the building eternally unchanged, the high school looming in the distance.
Her thumb traces circles on my palm, the simple touch sending warmth spiraling up my arm. "I never thought I'd feel this way about coming back. I spent so long running from this place."
"And now?"
"Now I think I needed to leave so I could appreciate coming home again. With you."
I have to look away, afraid the emotion might overwhelm me. The ring in my suitcase suddenly feels more prominent with each mile closer to our destination, the knowledge of what I'm planning settling in my chest.
"Almost there," I say, turning down the familiar street that leads to my parents' house where we'll stay tonight before continuing to Tarryn's family tomorrow. The perfect cover for my early morning plans.
Her hand squeezes mine again, anchoring me to this moment, to her. "I'm glad we came back.”
We don’t even make it out of the car before my mom is running out of the house with her arms wide open like she hasn’t seen me in years.
“Come inside, I just made lunch,” she says, pushing us inside where my father grabs me, pulling me in for a fierce hug. We catch up over lunch, the tensions that I know Tarryn has secretly been carrying about seeing my parents again melting away.
By the time the evening rolls around, we’re both exhausted, deciding to tuck in early.
"Rise and shine, beautiful." I brush my lips against Tarryn's temple, watching her eyes flutter open, confusion clouding them momentarily before recognition dawns.
"What time is it?" she mumbles, voice thick with sleep as she burrows deeper under the comforter.
"Early. But I want to show you something before we head to your parents'." I'm already dressed in jeans and a light sweater, the spring morning carrying just enough chill to justify layers—and pockets, where the small box now rests, burning against my thigh like a brand.
She squints at me suspiciously. "Something that requires waking up at"—she glances at the bedside clock, groaning—"six forty-five on a Saturday?"
"Trust me," I say, dropping another kiss on her forehead. "It'll be worth it."
Twenty minutes later, she's dressed and marginally more awake, nursing a travel mug of coffee as we slip out of my sleeping parents' house.
The morning air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and distant lilacs, the sun just beginning its climb above the horizon, painting the sky in watercolor washes of pink and gold.
"Where are we going?" she asks as I lead her down the sidewalk rather than toward the car.
"Memory lane," I answer, taking her hand. "Literally."
We walk in comfortable silence, Tarryn gradually becoming more alert with each sip of coffee and step into our shared past. I guide us toward the high school.
"Seriously?" She laughs but follows me toward the main entrance, its steps worn from generations of teenage feet. "Breaking and entering wasn't on my weekend agenda."
"We're not breaking in. Just revisiting the scene of the crime." I tug her toward a specific spot near the east entrance, where lockers once lined the hallway visible through large windows. "Right here is where you accused me of copying your biology notes."
Her laughter echoes in the morning quiet. "Because you were copying my notes! You had your notebook open to the exact same page, with half the content already matched word for word."
"A deliberate strategy," I admit, pulling her closer. "I'd been trying to figure out how to talk to you for weeks. The brilliant, gorgeous Tarryn Wells, who intimidated every guy with her brain and those legs that seemed to go on forever."
"Smooth talker," she murmurs, but I can see the flush spreading across her cheeks, the pleased smile she's trying to suppress. "I was so annoyed with you."
"Until I offered to buy you a milkshake as an apology."
"Chocolate peanut butter. Extra whipped cream." She sighs at the memory. "God, you were persistent."
"Best decision I ever made." I brush my lips against hers, marveling at how the chemistry between us has only intensified with time. "Come on, we have more stops on this tour."
We walk past the football field, the diner, the public library where we studied for SATs, each location building toward the real destination, for what comes next.
Tarryn follows along, increasingly curious as we leave the main part of town behind, heading toward the outskirts where my grandparents' farm once stood.
"Jackson?" Uncertainty colors her voice as the road narrows, houses giving way to open countryside. "Where exactly are we going?"
"You'll see. Just a little farther."
When we reach the old property line, I lead her past what used to be my grandparents' driveway—now just a gravel path leading to empty land, the farmhouse demolished years ago after they passed. But beyond, just over the gentle rise of a hill, lies what we've come to see.
"Oh my God," Tarryn breathes as we crest the hill. "It's still here."
The daisy field stretches before us, a blanket of white and gold swaying in the gentle morning breeze. Exactly as it was eight years ago, when she wore flower crowns in her hair and we dreamed impossible dreams under an endless summer sky.
"My dad never sold this portion of the land," I explain, watching emotion flicker across her face. "Said it was too pretty to develop."
She steps into the field, fingers trailing over the delicate blooms. The sight of her surrounded by daisies again, her chestnut hair catching the sunlight, her simple sundress fluttering around her knees, steals my breath.
It's like time has folded in on itself, giving us a second chance at a moment we once thought lost forever.
"It's exactly the same," she whispers, turning in a slow circle.
"Some things are meant to endure," I say, my voice rougher than intended as I move to join her among the flowers. My hand slips into my pocket, fingers closing around the velvet box as anticipation drums through my veins. "Like us."
She turns to me. “Jackson, this is so?—"
Before she can finish, I sink to one knee among the daisies, watching her eyes widen as understanding dawns.
"Tarryn Wells," I begin, my voice steady despite the earthquake in my chest. "Eight years ago, in this very field, we were just kids dreaming of a future together. We weren't ready then, not for the challenges that came, not for the sacrifices required, not for forever."
I open the box, revealing the ring—my grandmother's diamond reset in a delicate daisy pattern, petals of smaller stones surrounding the central gem.
"But I think we're finally ready now. We've built careers, faced our fears, found our way back to each other against impossible odds." My voice cracks slightly, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "And I don't want to spend another day not being yours completely."
Tears spill freely down her cheeks now, her hands pressed against her mouth as she stares at the ring, at me, at the field of memories surrounding us.
"I love you, Tarryn. I've loved you since we were sixteen, through every minute of the eight years we were apart, and every second since we found each other again. Will you marry me?"
She drops to her knees in front of me, hands cradling my face. "Yes," she whispers, the single syllable carrying the weight of our entire history. "God, yes, Jackson. Of course I'll marry you."
Her lips find mine in a gentle, tearstained kiss. I pull back only to slide the ring onto her trembling finger, watching as sunlight catches the diamond, scattering prisms across her skin.
"It's beautiful," she breathes, staring at the daisy design. "Your grandmother's?"
"The center stone was hers," I confirm, brushing away a tear from her cheek. "I had it reset for you."
She looks around the field, then back at me, curiosity dawning through her tears. "What is your family planning to do with this land? It seems a shame to just let it sit empty."
I help her to her feet, keeping her hands in mine. "Nothing. My dad told me years ago that this plot was mine whenever I wanted it. He and my grandfather set it aside, separate from the rest of the farm."
"Really?" She glances around, seeing it with new eyes.
"I always imagined…" I hesitate, suddenly nervous about revealing the full extent of my dreams. "I always thought that someday, after our adventures in New York or wherever else life takes us, we might come back here—to our small town, to this field where our love began—and build a home."
Her eyes fill with fresh tears. "A home?"
"Nothing extravagant. Just somewhere that's ours, with wide windows to see the daisies, room for a family if we decide that's what we want." I brush my thumb across her knuckles, across the ring that now marks her as mine. "A place to come back to, after seeing the world."
She turns in a slow circle. "Our home," she says softly, testing the words.
"What do you think?"
She faces me again, her smile shining through her tears. "I think it's perfect. After New York, after our careers are established, after we've had all the adventures we want—coming home to this would be the perfect final chapter."
"Not final," I correct gently, pulling her against me. "Just the beginning of something new."
Her arms wind around my neck as she presses herself against me. "I like that plan."
I kiss her again, deeper this time, pouring eight years of longing and three months of certainty into the connection between us. Around us, daisies sway in the morning breeze, silent witnesses to promises we thought were once gone forever.
Hand in hand, we walk back toward town.
"So, New York for the next few years," Tarryn says, her practical nature reasserting itself even as she can't stop admiring the ring. "Then maybe we reassess?"
"Exactly." I squeeze her hand. “We build our careers, enjoy the city, travel when we can. And someday, when we're ready, we come back here."
"We can design the house together," she says, excitement threading through her voice. "Something modern but warm, with lots of natural light."
"A big kitchen," I add, thinking of weekend mornings making pancakes together.
"A home office—no, two offices." She laughs. "I've seen how you organize your case files. I need my own space."
"Fair enough." I pull her closer, slipping my arm around her waist. "What about children? Someday?"
Her steps slow as she considers this, her expression thoughtful rather than alarmed, which gives me hope. "I think… yes. Not right away. But yes, I'd like to have a family with you."
The simple admission fills me with a joy so intense it's almost painful. "Two? Three?"
"Let's start with one and see how we feel." She laughs, nudging me with her hip. "We have time to figure it all out.”
“Of course we do,” I say, grabbing her hand and twirling her around before pulling her against me for more kisses.
“Did you know," she murmurs between kisses, "that daisies symbolize new beginnings?"
"I didn't," I admit, though it seems perfectly fitting.
"They also symbolize true love," she continues.
We pass the high school again, the diner, all the landmarks of our shared history now infused with new meaning—not just places we've been, but signposts pointing toward a future we'll build together.
"We'll make new daisy fields wherever we go," Tarryn promises suddenly, her eyes meeting mine. "In New York, in whatever city our careers take us next. We'll find them or create them if we have to."
"I like that," I say, pulling her close. "Daisy fields everywhere."