Chapter 6
SIX
JACKSON
“You’re not changing your mind, are you?” Zoe asked when Jackson called later that night.
He shifted against the headboard of his bed, the wooden beams above him creaking softly in the March wind.
His cabin wasn’t much. It was just a converted barn on the far side of the farm, but it was his.
Privacy, quiet, a space where he could breathe.
He loved his parents, but moving back into the main house after the army wasn’t going to work.
This little place had been his friend Zach’s idea.
It had been a winter project they’d tackled together a few months ago, fixing up the old hay barn until it felt like home.
“What? No. Never,” he said quickly. “That’s not why I’m calling. I was just thinking… maybe I should post something online. I don’t usually post much, so anything from me would be kind of a big deal.”
“Oh, you’re right,” Zoe said. “We should definitely do something.”
“I’ve got a picture of us from Christmas. Remember when you stopped by and my mom took it?” They had gone for a hike. It was nice, quiet, just the two of them. And just what Jackson needed after the craziness that was his entire family at Christmastime.
Jackson didn’t let himself think too hard about how his mom would react to the news about him and Zoe.
Not to the relationship—she’d be over the moon about that.
It was the inevitable break-up that made his stomach twist. Maybe he could get out of town for a bit when that day came.
His family had a hunting lodge upstate that they never used in the spring.
Liam would cover for him at the farm—he owed him that much, especially after Jackson had to work twice as hard during the Christmas Cassidy drama last year.
But there was no point spiraling about the end when they hadn’t even pulled off the beginning yet.
“Unless you think we should take a different picture?” he added. “Here—I’ll text it to you.”
He brought up his messenger app and sent the photo his mom had taken.
It had been the afternoon when Zoe pitched the greenhouse and Local Blooms project.
He hadn’t taken much convincing. Jackson welcomed any excuse to work outside, and as a man who didn’t sleep much, he still had a lot of free time on his hands. The more projects, the better.
Zoe’s hair had been down that day, a little windblown from the arctic winter air.
She’d worn an olive-green knit stocking cap and a navy puffer vest, hands tucked into her pockets.
She was leaning against Jackson, his arm draped easily over her shoulders.
They were just two friends who were completely at ease with each other.
Jackson smiled to himself. He wasn’t usually one to crack a grin, but in that photo? He’d looked… happy.
“Oh, that’s a great picture,” Zoe said. “Yeah, post that one. Hang on—let me see what I have.”
He waited while she scrolled through her camera roll.
“What about something like this?” she asked, voice tinged with hesitation.
The picture appeared in his messages a second later. Jackson blinked.
It was a photo of him taken two summers ago, back before his last deployment.
They were in the middle of the lake, paddle boarding.
He could practically feel the heat again, the ripple of the water beneath him.
And there, in the corner of the frame, was Zoe.
She was laughing, hair loose, wearing that dark-green bikini top with the white bottoms that had nearly wrecked his concentration all summer.
Before he could stop himself, the fantasy took shape.
He pictured her now, not two years ago, but here, with him again, on a quiet stretch of the lake where the only sound was the water lapping at the shore.
The ground beneath them was soft with moss, the air warm and smelling of sunlit water.
She untied the back of her top, letting it fall forward, and his breath hitched at the sight of her bare breasts.
He moved toward her, unable to stop himself, pressing her back against a tree as his mouth claimed hers.
One of his hands slid up, pinning her wrists above her head, while the other cupped her breast—thumb brushing over the peaked tip before rolling it between his fingers.
She gasped into his mouth, arching toward him, and he bent his head to take her other nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until she whimpered.
Her legs parted for him, pulling him in closer.
Jackson cleared his throat as the vivid images flashed uninvited through his mind, how he could taste the sun on her skin. Her curves. The indent at her waist. The perfect valley between her breasts.
Jackson exhaled sharply, dragging himself back to the present. The phone screen still glowed in his hand, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck.
“Well now,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Didn’t know you had that kind of photo of me saved on your phone.”
Zoe let out a mortified laugh. “Oh my gosh—sorry! I should’ve deleted it. I totally forgot it was in there, I swear.”
“I kid! I just wish I had one of you in that bikini.”
“My bikini. You remember it?”
“I remember,” he said, tone dipping low. “Green bikini, white bottoms. Don’t think anyone’s forgotten that.”
“Okay, that’s enough out of you, mister fake boyfriend,” she said, but he could hear her smiling. “You’re good if I post this?”
“Positive. Go for it.”
The line was quiet for a moment before Zoe said, “Okay… posted. I guess that makes it official.”
“Same here,” he said, already hitting upload. “Who knew we were laying the groundwork for this fake dating thing years ago?”
“I know. We couldn’t have planned it better if we tried.”
A soft beat of silence passed between them with just the sounds of her breathing.
“So… tomorrow morning,” Zoe said, her tone lifting in question. “Spring Market opens at nine. You still want to meet me there?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Might even show up early and help you set up.”
“Oh wow, pulling out all the stops,” she teased.
Then, after a pause, her voice warmed with that hint of excitement he loved hearing.
“Actually, we could talk to Krista’s grandparents while we’re there.
They’ve lived in Maple Falls forever—if anyone remembers something about the mystery bloom, it’d be them. ”
“Good idea,” Jackson said. “And after that, we could grab brunch at Anita’s and maybe ask her about it too. Chances are she remembers the flower or at least a story about it.”
Zoe laughed softly. “True. If there’s gossip attached to it, she’ll know.”
“Then it’s settled,” Jackson said. “Spring Market, then Anita’s.”
She hesitated, and then her voice warmed. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Jackson smiled. “Then it’s a date. A fake one. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
A small laugh escaped her before the line went quiet, both of them lingering again in a silence that didn’t feel awkward at all.
“Night, Zoe,” he said.
“Night, Jackson.”
Jackson ended the call and set his phone on the nightstand.
He reached for the remote, planning to unwind with a hunting video from one of his favorite YouTube creators—the kind of guy who showed every detail of his trips: what gear he packed, how he set up camp, even how he cooked meals over the fire while filming.
Jackson liked the simplicity and the quiet self-sufficiency of it.
He also liked the idea of sharing it with someone one day.
Someone who loved hiking, traveling, and getting off the grid.
He didn’t let himself imagine Zoe filling that spot, not really. But if their fake dating did involve a camping trip… yeah, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
He’d just pulled up the latest video when his phone dinged.
Zoe again? He smiled, half expecting her to overthink the post or follow up with a cheeky comment.
But when he checked the screen, it wasn’t her.
It was the group chat.
He usually ignored it—more apt to hit mute than reply—but tonight, something made him tap it open.
Madison: Jackson and Zoe—you’re dating?!
Zoe: That was fast.
Kit: I knew it! There is no way you two were that cute at Christmas and nothing was going on.
Jackson shook his head as the comments kept rolling in.
Liam: Bro. I literally just asked you and you said you were just friends. You let me find out on social media? Wounded.
Krista: Zoe already told me
Liam: WHAT?!
Cassidy: Group date!
Zoe hearted Cassidy’s message and replied with a laughing emoji on Liam’s.
Jackson shook his head, the screen casting a soft glow on his face.
Fake or not, they’d just become the talk of the town.
He tossed the phone onto the nightstand and leaned back against his pillow, the faint laughter of the group chat still echoing in his head.
The room was dark except for the flicker of the quiet hunting video on his TV.
The man was stirring chili over a campfire, the hiss of rain on canvas in the background.
Jackson watched the flames dance, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.
He pictured Zoe instead, curled up in her soft bed, scrolling through the same thread, a grin tugging at her mouth. He could almost hear her laugh, that soft snort she tried to hide.
He told himself to focus on the video, on the gear, the fire, the quiet solitude he usually craved. But the room felt too still, too empty, as if the rain had washed all the sound from it but her laugh.
He wondered if she was thinking about him too.
He closed his eyes, letting the crackle of the campfire on the screen blend with the patter of real rain against the window.
He drew in a slow breath and let it out.
If he dreamed tonight, he hoped it would be of her, and that, somewhere across town, she’d be dreaming of him.