Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
ZOE
By the time they made it back to the farmhouse, her ankle was throbbing.
She could feel the pulse of it all the way into her toes, and she knew it was swollen by how tight her boot felt.
She tried to play it off, act like it wasn’t that bad, but the moment Jackson helped her down from Xavier and she hissed in pain, he was scooping her up again and driving her straight home.
Mrs. Humphrey was out in front of the Cherry Crush Flower Shop walking her schnauzer in between the afternoon rain showers, leash in one hand, a takeaway cup in the other. She stopped dead at the sight of them, eyes twinkling as Jackson scooped Zoe up in his arms again.
“Well, isn’t that the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen?”
“Evening, Mrs. H.,” Jackson said with a nod as he navigated the puddles while carrying Zoe around the back of her shop.
Mrs. Humphrey clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, to be young and in love.” She sighed dramatically as they disappeared.
Zoe fished her keys from the bottom of her canvas tote—no easy task when her arms were full of Jackson’s neck.
The back of the Cherry Crush Flower Shop was quiet at this time of day, the air rich with the scent of damp earth, rain, and fresh-cut blooms. Terracotta pots were lined up by the back door, their rims beaded with rain.
Beyond the shop, the ground sloped toward a stretch of green where wildflowers grew between the stones of the walkway.
Maple trees arched overhead, dripping with rain, their leaves whispering in the breeze, and farther still, the lake shimmered faintly through the mist, silver and still beneath the darkening sky.
Jackson held her with one arm and used the other to unlock the shop door before carrying her through to the back and up the narrow stairs.
“I can probably hop up the stairs.” Zoe tried to wiggle for Jackson to set her down.
“I’ve carried you this far—let me see it through,” Jackson insisted, tightening his grip.
“Since when did you get so bossy?”
“Since you got hurt.”
Inside, Whiskers began meowing the second the keys jingled.
“I’m late for her afternoon snack,” Zoe explained as they entered her apartment.
“I swear this cat is always hungry. How many times a day does she eat?”
Zoe frowned. “Honestly? No idea. But it’s not like I give her a full scoop every time. Just a few kibbles, maybe a piece of cheese. She’s content for… five, ten minutes.”
Whiskers’s meows turned mournful at the delay, as if to prove her point.
Jackson carried Zoe through the door and into the kitchen, careful not to bump her ankle or trip over the florist buckets she’d stacked in the entryway.
He could only navigate one way to the living room, seeing as a drying rack stacked with pressed blooms blocked off one side of the island.
The rest of the kitchen was just as cluttered, with a tea pot filled with paint brushes on the counter and Mason jars, ribbons, and wedding magazines spread out on the kitchen table.
Somehow, it all smelled like lavender and sugar cookies.
“What else do you need?” Jackson asked, after making the trek to the couch and setting her down gently. He scanned the room for her phone, the remote, anything that might make her comfortable.
“Can you hand me my tote, please? I want to get the Moonlight Kiss cuttings into water.”
“Okay, I can do that,” Jackson said, looking around the kitchen for an open vase.
“Under the kitchen sink,” Zoe said as if reading his mind.
Whiskers jumped up on the back of the couch, padding curiously along until she reached Zoe, sniffing her like she was inspecting the damage herself.
Zoe scratched behind the cat’s ears. “It’s okay, I just took a tumble.”
“Cat food?” Jackson called from the kitchen once he’d found the vase.
That was Whiskers’s cue to abandon Zoe entirely, meowing as she trotted toward the pantry.
“There’s a container on the floor just inside. Scoop’s in it.”
Jackson obliged, and Whiskers wasted no time diving in.
He came back to the couch with the vase full of water.
Zoe carefully transferred the flowers. “It’s just mind-blowing. That hot spring? That mist? It’s like the place exists in its own little world.” Her voice softened. “It’s magic. Actual, living magic.”
“I was thinking,” she continued, setting down her tote, “we should keep the meadow quiet for now. Just until we can protect it properly. We’ll take a few seeds or cuttings back to the greenhouse. If we can get them to take root, we can add them to the Local Blooms garden.”
“Keep the meadow between us for now, then,” he said, nodding. “A secret worth guarding.”
“Exactly.” Zoe smiled, a soft, tired smile that still managed to glow. “I just wish I hadn’t sprained my ankle before we could start.” She’d already taken the boot off her good foot, but the other one was still laced up.
“Here, let me.” Jackson sat on the edge of the coffee table, gently lifting her foot into his lap. He worked the laces loose all the way down, then eased her heel free. Zoe clutched a pillow against her stomach, her face tightening at the pain.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “But we’ve got to get this off.” He probably would’ve cut the boot off and bought her a new pair if it came to that, but Zoe managed to point her toe and the leather slipped free. She tugged her sock down gingerly, revealing bruising already blooming around the swollen joint.
Jackson crossed to the kitchen and came back with a bag of ice wrapped in one of her hand towels. “Here. Hold this to it. Do you have any ibuprofen?”
“Bathroom vanity. And thanks.” She took the ice, scooted back, and extended her leg across the couch, putting the ice on top.
He returned with the bottle and a glass of water, setting them within her reach. Zoe shifted, testing her ankle with a careful wince. “It’s sprained, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
“You sure? I can take you to get an X-ray.”
She shook her head. “I’ve sprained ankles a dozen times hiking. It feels the same. Promise.”
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it… for now.”
Rain had started again outside, a steady drizzle that blurred the windows and deepened the afternoon gloom.
Jackson pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing a soft gray T-shirt that clung to the lines of his shoulders and arms. The faint ink of his tattoos peeked from beneath the sleeve, drawing Zoe’s gaze before she could stop herself.
She swallowed, heat creeping up her neck. Great, she thought wryly, as if this weather wasn’t steamy enough already.
He tossed the sweatshirt onto the couch, where Whiskers immediately claimed it, curling into the warm fabric as though it were meant for her.
Jackson stayed close, perched on the coffee table with his knee brushing hers.
He was assessing her, she could see that.
Unwilling to take her word for it, and if she was honest, she was pretty sure it wasn’t broken, but not positive.
The pain that shot through her foot if she bent it just the wrong way was intense.
“You hungry?” he asked, abandoning his post in front of her.
“Starving,” Zoe said. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh my goodness—you’ve got to go. It’s Sunday. You have family dinner tonight.”
Jackson shrugged, walking toward the window and taking out his phone. “I already texted Mom. Told her about your ankle, and that I was staying here to take care of you.”
Zoe was unable to mask the flicker of surprise on her face.
Jackson was going to stay and take care of her?
She knew he said he wanted to do things right, to be with her for real, but she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For him to run as soon as he had the chance to, because that’s what he always did.
“So,” he continued, “what’ll it be? I can pick up something from the café, or Chinese, or pizza?”
“Not gonna lie, it all sounds good. Surprise me.”
The thing about being friends for so long was that either one of them could’ve ordered for the other.
They could get soup and sandwiches from the café.
Anita made the most delicious club with ham, turkey, bacon, avocado, cheese, and homemade mayo.
Or what about a woodfired pizza from the Kettle?
Their crispy crust with fresh buffalo mozzarella never disappointed.
But then Zoe remembered Jackson loved Chinese food, and even she had to admit that it sounded perfect for a rainy evening inside.
“Chinese?” Jackson said, glancing up from his phone.
“You just read my mind.”
In the end, Jackson ended up ordering all of her favorites—hot and sour soup, orange chicken, fried rice, crab rangoons, and an egg roll to top it off. He put the order in on his phone for delivery, while Zoe flicked through Netflix.
Half an hour later, they were curled together on the couch, a half-watched movie flickering across the screen. Zoe’s leg was stretched over Jackson’s lap, a bag of ice balanced on her ankle, and his hand rested lightly on her calf—fingers tracing absent circles.
Whiskers had claimed the throw pillow between them, her tail flicking every time Jackson shifted. But Zoe barely noticed her kitty. She was too aware of the weight of Jackson’s arm resting along the back of the couch, of his presence beside her.
It wasn’t the fiery heat of the meadow or the dizzying rush of their kisses. It was something softer, settling around them like a blanket out of the dryer.
Zoe tried to remind herself to be careful. That this was still fragile. But then Jackson exhaled softly, his thumb brushing a slow path along her shin, and the warning in her chest faded.
“I used to hate nights like this,” he said suddenly, eyes fixed on the glow of the TV. “Quiet ones. Couldn’t stand being still.”
Zoe turned toward him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Because of the past?”
He nodded once. “The noise in my head. I used to think if I kept moving, kept working, fixing, doing things—I could outrun it.”
“But now it’s not so bad?” Zoe said, trying to keep hope from coloring her words.
“Oh, it’s still bad,” he said with a chuckle. “But it’s different when I’m with you. The noise quietens down. Not gone, just… quieter.”
Her heart twisted as she brushed her thumb over his knuckles. “You know,” she said softly, “you don’t have to fight it alone. Talking to someone, someone trained for this, might help.”
Jackson didn’t answer right away. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Maybe it’s time. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I’ll start looking. Because I want to get this right—with you.”
“Knock, knock.” Gertie’s voice rang out as she opened the door without waiting for a response.
Zoe instantly sat up straighter, jarring her ankle in the process, and mentally cursing her mother for barging in and ruining the tender moment.
“Oh my goodness, I can’t just walk in like that anymore, can I?” Gertie said cheerfully, beaming at the sight of them curled up together on the couch.
“I was just stopping by to talk shop with Zoe,” she explained breezily to Jackson. “Well done, my dear! Those wedding flowers were gorgeous. I wanted to tell you in person, but it seems you two slipped away before I could.” She winked, already making herself comfortable in the living room.
Then her gaze dropped to Zoe’s ankle. “Now what happened here?”
“Hiking accident, but I’m fine—”
“And he brought you home and got you Chinese food for dinner?” Gertie practically melted on the spot. She glanced at the TV and gasped. “A romantic comedy? Oh, I have to take a picture! The ladies won’t believe it. You two are so cute!”
Zoe looked apologetically over at Jackson, who, judging by the smile on his face, seemed to be handling her mother better than she was.
“Go ahead. Guess it’ll only help with that competition,” he said easily.
“I know! Can you believe it? Less than three weeks to go, and you two are the front runners just as I knew you would be!” Gertie fumbled with her phone before snapping a picture of them. “Should I post this on social? That’s what everyone does these days, isn’t it? Now what was that app?”
“Mom,” Zoe said firmly, hoping her mom would take the hint and leave them in peace.
“Oh, fine, fine. I’ll figure it out later. You two enjoy your evening.” She started toward the door, then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. Easter. Where would you like to get takeout from this year?”
Zoe looked over at Jackson. They hadn’t talked about Easter yet, which was only two weeks away. Gertie wasn’t much of a chef in the kitchen, but she always made the holidays feel special with takeout, fancy candles, holiday decorations, and plenty of champagne.
“Takeout? No way. You two should come out to the farm,” Jackson offered.
Gertie beamed at the invitation. “You two are serious, aren’t you? I knew it! Already spending the holidays together. I’ll add that to my post! See you kids later.” Gertie was humming a tune on her way out.
“You sure you want to spend Easter with my crazy mom?” Zoe asked, half-teasing, half-serious.
“What? I love your mom. But more importantly, I want to spend the holiday with you. That is, if you’re alright with that.”
Zoe weighed her response. Part of her wanted to say of course she wanted to spend the holiday with him, but another part of her held back, wondering if he’d change his mind before the two weeks were up.
“I’d like that,” she said finally, her voice soft. “Easter at the farm.”
“Don’t forget about the annual Hawthorne Easter Egg Hunt and all the baby animals.”
“Oh, now you’re just bribing me with baby goats,” she teased.
“Maybe,” he said with a grin. “Whatever it takes to get you there.”
She smiled at that, picturing pastel eggs scattered across the grass, sunlight bathing the barnyard, laughter carrying on the spring air.
It sounded perfect. She prayed that Jackson had meant what he said, about being ready for something real with her, and that their dreams for the future were aligned.
Because she’d never wanted anything as fiercely as this life in Maple Falls with him.