Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
ZOE
The forest pressed close around them, sunlight filtering through the canopy in patches of gold. The air smelled of rain and green things, rich with earth and the faint sweetness of early blossoms. Branches brushed her shoulders as they wound along the narrow path. Somewhere above, a bird called.
Jackson slowed Xavier near a bend where the trees grew denser. “We’re close,” he murmured. “See that break in the ridge ahead? That’s where I turned back yesterday.”
The trail narrowed, weaving through pines and birch before sloping down toward the river. Across the water, the land opened into the same clearing they’d spotted weeks ago.
Jackson slowed Xavier to a walk. “That’s it,” he said quietly. “The spot from the map. The old resting place.”
Zoe followed his gaze, her pulse quickening as she recognized the rise of land, the faint outline of stone through the grass.
They’d come so close before. Now, with the sound of the river beside them and the forest holding its breath, it felt like they were on the edge of something extraordinary—like the meadow itself had been waiting for them to find a way across.
“That’s it?”
“I think so.”
The trail began to level, and with it came a sudden scatter of color.
Wildflowers sprang up along the edges—pink morning glories curling open toward the light, delicate bluebells nodding in the breeze, even a patch of black-eyed Susans glowing gold against the green.
Flowers that shouldn’t be here yet, not this early.
“This is bizarre,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No way these should be blooming yet.”
Jackson guided Xavier forward, ducking low beneath an arch of branches. The horse’s ears flicked, nostrils flaring as they stepped into air that felt different, warmer.
Zoe felt the change too. “What is that?” she whispered.
Jackson didn’t answer. He just urged Xavier another few paces forward, and the forest suddenly fell away around them.
“Oh,” Zoe breathed, unable to say any other words.
Below them lay a wide, hidden hollow, sheltered on all sides by trees. Wisps of steam drifted up from a shallow pool of bubbling water.
“It’s a hot spring,” Zoe marveled.
The warmth spilling from it seemed to breathe life into everything it touched. Around the pool, cherry trees arched in soft blush and ivory, their blossoms drifting down like snow onto the grass below.
Sunlight poured into the clearing, gilding swaths of wildflowers that swayed as though the earth itself was breathing.
Butterflies floated lazily above the blooms. The smell of clover filled the air.
The whole place shimmered, untouched and protected, like the world had been saving it just for them.
Zoe’s hand lifted to her mouth. “No way,” she whispered. “Jackson… these can’t be…”
They grew in small clusters along the edge of the meadow, half-hidden among the taller grasses near the steaming spring.
Their petals were the softest shade of blue with streaks of silver, fading to a silvery white at the center, as though each one held a drop of captured moonlight.
Mist curled low around them, making them shimmer like they were alive, pulsing faintly with light.
“The Moonlight Kisses,” murmured Jackson.
Zoe’s heart nearly stopped.
Jackson swung down from the saddle and turned to help her dismount. His hands closed around her waist, firm and careful, guiding her to the ground. She felt the warmth of him even after he let go.
They took a moment, letting the meadow come alive around them.
After securing Xavier, they picked their way carefully down the slope, the grass soft beneath their boots, the air sweet with pollen and green things.
Zoe dropped to her knees in the middle of the meadow.
She dug out her phone, snapping picture after picture, unable to capture the sheer magic of it.
Finally, she pulled out her shears and leaned low over a cluster of the rare blossoms Edith had described, clipping a few stems with reverence and sliding them into a plastic bag. Her fingers trembled as she sealed it.
“I can’t believe we found it,” she whispered, almost afraid the words might shatter the illusion. “I’d started to think we never would.”
She sat among the flowers. The air shimmered with light, the hum of bees, the flutter of wings. She could have stayed there forever, surrounded by color and sunlight.
When she looked up, Jackson wasn’t watching the meadow at all. He was watching her.
The weight of his gaze pinned her where she was, a heat she felt down to her bones. His eyes weren’t casual, weren’t friendly—they were dark, intense, like he was trying to memorize every line of her face, every curve of her body bent among the blooms.
Zoe’s breath hitched. Her fingers stilled around the shears.
Her heart thudded, traitorous and loud in her chest. “What?” she asked softly, half a laugh in her voice, though she felt anything but light.
Jackson didn’t answer. Not with words. His jaw flexed, his stance shifting, every inch of him radiating tension. Want.
Zoe blinked up at him, forcing an innocent expression, though her pulse was wild. “Is this another one of those willow tree moments?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes only grew darker. He took a slow step toward her, the air between them tightening.
“I meant what I said,” Jackson murmured. “My running days are over.”
Zoe rose to her feet, meeting him eye to eye. “Good,” she said softly, but there was steel in her voice. “Because whatever happens next—this, us—it doesn’t erase what came before. You hurt me, Jackson. And it’s going to take a while to fix that.”
He flinched, just slightly, but didn’t look away.
She stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek. “I want to believe you,” she admitted. “I really do. But you’ve got a lot of proving to do before I can.”
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of earth and flowers, of warmth and renewal. Then, slowly, she reached up, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his jaw.
“So if this is the start of something real,” she whispered, “show me.”
Her words still hung in the air when Jackson bent, closing the space between them. His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up as his mouth claimed hers. The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was heat and hunger.
She gasped softly, gripping his shirt as he pulled her up from the grass and into him.
The wildflowers bent around them, the hum of bees forgotten.
His hands roamed her back, her waist, skimming her hips, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching her.
She melted into him, giving back everything he asked for and more.
He eased her down into the grass, stretching out beside her, his body sheltering hers. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, moving with maddening patience. Zoe writhed against him, already aching, every teasing stroke making her crazier with need.
She kissed him desperately, turning into him, her mouth hungry and deep, but his fingers were slow, purposeful, coaxing her higher until she could hardly think. She wanted all of him—his mouth, his hands, his touch.
Just as the tension coiled tight inside her, the sky gave way.
The first drop landed cool against her cheek. Then another. And then the heavens opened. Rain poured hard and fast, soaking through the fabric of her shirt in an instant, plastering her hair to her face, and streaming down Jackson’s jaw as he swore under his breath.
“Come on—” He grabbed her hand and they bolted for the trees at the edge of the meadow, laughter spilling from Zoe’s lips even as the rain plastered her shirt to her skin.
But the ground was slick, the grass treacherous, and halfway there, her foot slipped.
Pain shot through her ankle as it gave way, folding onto itself. She stumbled with a cry.
Jackson was there in an instant, catching her, his arms strong and steady even as the storm raged around them. The heat of what had just passed still hummed between them, but the moment was gone. The meadow had been theirs, but the storm had claimed it back.
“Here, I got you,” he said, scooping her up and carrying her the rest of the way to safety under the white pines. Zoe wanted to protest, but she had a feeling she couldn’t put weight on it. Not yet. Not when it was throbbing and tears stung her eyes.
He knelt, setting her carefully on a bed of needles, his hands gentle as he crouched in front of her ankle. “Let me see.”
Zoe hissed when he brushed her skin. “It’s not broken,” she said quickly, trying to laugh, though her ankle throbbed.
His jaw tightened, eyes flicking to hers. “It’s not good either.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said as if trying to convince herself.
Jackson glanced toward Xavier, who waited just beyond the pines, ears flicking nervously at the thunder. Without a word, Jackson swept Zoe up in his arms and carried her through the rain to join his horse.
“Wait a minute!” Zoe laughed, gripping his shoulder. “You don’t have to—I can hobble over.”
“Really?” Jackson looked down at her, rain dripping off his tousled hair, that don’t-argue-with-me look written all over his face.
Zoe sighed, the protest dying on her lips. “Fine,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck as thunder rolled in the distance. “Have it your way, cowboy.”
His answering smile was quick and quiet, and for just a heartbeat—between the storm, the scent of rain, and the warmth of his arms—it was easy to believe he’d become her knight in shining armor after all.