Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
JACKSON
The mid-morning air back at the farm smelled like spring, turned soil sweetened by the hint of lilacs blooming along the fence line. Out in the distance, Jackson’s dad’s tractor rumbled, turning the fields in neat rows—corn, soybeans, pumpkins to come.
Jackson had known the minute Krista came around the corner that Zoe didn’t want to see him.
She’d been at the register just seconds before and now suddenly she’d run out?
She was avoiding him. And could he really blame her?
He probably should’ve thought it through before marching into her shop like he could fix everything with a delivery of flowers.
There were a lot of ways a man could waste a Saturday after screwing up. He could’ve drowned himself in a bottle or numbed it all with the pills gathering dust in the cabinet beside his bed. He could’ve stayed in that quiet, hollow place where regret didn’t hurt quite so much.
But instead he did the harder thing: sat with the ache he’d caused and tried, somehow, to be better.
He started with Daisy and Tinsel, brushing their coats until they gleamed, letting the rhythm of the work settle him. Then he saddled up Xavier.
“Heading out?”
Jackson looked up to see Liam leaning in the barn doorway, coffee in one hand, expression easy but eyes sharp. His twin always could read him too well.
“Just going to explore a ridge,” Jackson said, adjusting the strap again, though it didn’t need it.
“Right.” Liam took a slow sip, then pushed off the doorframe and came closer. “You want to tell me what happened, or should I guess?”
Jackson ran a hand down Xavier’s neck, the horse’s sleek muscles flexing beneath his palm. Liam waited. He didn’t push, not right away, just stood there, quiet in the way only brothers could be.
Finally, Jackson sighed. “I screwed up with Zoe. Bad. Said things I didn’t mean, spoke harshly to her.” His throat tightened. “Or maybe I meant them, but I shouldn’t have said them that way. I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. I let fear win, again.”
For a long moment, Liam was quiet. The only sound was the steady munch of hay from the stalls.
Finally, he said, “You’ve been through hell, Jacks.
No one’s denying that. But at some point, you’ve gotta stop waiting to feel perfect before you start living again.
You’re never gonna be that guy. None of us are. ”
Jackson looked up, meeting his brother’s gaze.
“Zoe just wants you to show up,” Liam went on. “You think she doesn’t already see the cracks? She loves you anyway.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest. She loves you.
Jackson swallowed hard. “Even if I’m still so early on in working on myself? Even if I’m… this much of a mess?”
Liam shrugged, his smile sincere. “Then let her see this process. The guy who’s trying. The one who still gets back on the damn horse, literally and figuratively.”
Jackson let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-groan. “You always have to end with a metaphor, don’t you?”
“Hey, if the horseshoe fits.”
Liam clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the barn door, pausing just before stepping out into the sunlight. “Don’t let pride be the thing that costs you the best thing you’ve ever had.”
When the door closed behind him, Jackson stood for a moment in the quiet. Then he turned to Xavier.
The stallion snorted softly, as if reading his mind.
“Guess it’s time to stop hiding,” Jackson murmured, reaching for the saddle. The leather was warm from the sun streaming through the open barn doors. He cinched the strap tight, patted Xavier’s flank, and swung into the saddle.
Outside, the world shimmered with the first true warmth of spring.
The fields stretched out in soft greens and golds, the air sweet with new growth.
Somewhere out there, hidden in the hills, was the meadow Zoe had been searching for—the one she believed was home to the legendary Moonlight Kiss flower.
Maybe finding it wouldn’t fix everything. But it was a place to start.
He turned Xavier toward the ridge road, the wind catching at his shirt as he urged the horse into a gallop. The rhythm of hooves against the soft earth pounded in time with his heart.
He knew exactly where to head, back toward the bend in the river, near the old settlement Zoe had spotted weeks ago.
They’d never found a safe way to cross, but maybe he could.
Maybe there was a shallower stretch upstream, a bridge long forgotten, something she’d missed.
If the hidden meadow was anywhere, it would be there.
He didn’t know if Zoe would ever forgive him. But he was done running from her.
And if there was even the smallest chance he could find that long-lost flower, then maybe he could find his way back to her, too.