Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
ZOE
Zoe felt like they needed to celebrate—not downtown at the Kettle, even though she knew Jackson was comfortable there, and not at some fancy dinner with a crowd of people. She didn’t want a party. She just wanted something that felt like them.
Her gaze drifted toward the pasture, where the mares grazed lazily in the soft afternoon light. Beyond them, the barn stood quiet, tack hanging neatly in its place. An idea sparked.
“Do you want to go to the meadow?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the horses. “That is, if you think Xavier will want to?”
Jackson’s mouth curved. “Are you kidding? Xavier loves getting out whenever he can. Give me ten minutes?” he asked.
“Sounds good. I’ll call Mrs. Bishop at the shop and make sure everything’s running smoothly there.”
It turned out Jackson needed a little longer to fetch Xavier, but Zoe didn’t mind. Mrs. Bishop had plenty to say on the phone.
“I was putting together bouquets and wasn’t sure if I should use tulips or miniature roses,” Mrs. Bishop fretted. “They’re both lovely, but completely different looks. What did you tell me again?”
Zoe laughed softly. “Use whichever you like, as long as it’s beautiful. Trust yourself—you have a great eye, Mrs. Bishop.”
“I don’t know…” Mrs. Bishop mused. “But I’ll play around and see what works best.”
“You do that. I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”
When Zoe hung up, she took a quiet moment for herself, letting it all sink in.
The future secured for the Local Blooms project.
For so long she had carried the weight of making her dream a reality, and now it was finally within reach.
There would be more work—so much more—but it was the kind of work she was excited for. And she wouldn’t be doing it alone.
Her thoughts flickered to Jackson. To how steady he’d been beside her. Could she finally trust that this was for real? That he wasn’t going to go anywhere?
And where did that leave her with her upcoming IVF appointment? She should probably talk to him about it, but something kept holding her back. What if he didn’t want kids?
Zoe shook her head. Not today, she thought. She wouldn’t bring heaviness into this moment. Today, she wanted to breathe the fresh country air, feel the wind on her face, and simply be happy. And when she asked herself if she was happy right now, the answer was an unequivocal yes.
“Alright,” Jackson said as he reappeared. He carried tack in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”
Zoe smiled, her heart kicking up. “Ready.”
After tacking up Xavier, Jackson offered his hand and helped her swing into the saddle. Then he climbed up behind her, settling in close. One strong arm wrapped snugly around her waist, holding her steady.
They rode toward the ridge as the late-afternoon sun gilded the land in gold. Wild violets dotted the new path, and the air smelled of lilacs and fresh earth. The soft thud of hooves against the grass mixed with the steady rhythm of their breaths.
When they reached the crest overlooking the meadow, Zoe gasped. With the clearing spread out before them, the place seemed wilder and even more breathtaking than before. The flowers—their flowers—were everywhere, shimmering in the sunlight. Even more had bloomed since they were there last.
“Oh, Jackson…” Her voice cracked. “It’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”
He dismounted first, then turned to help her down, his hands lingering at her waist. She followed his gaze toward the far edge of the meadow—where the earth dipped and curved near a cluster of stones half-buried in moss. The outlines of old foundations, maybe. A well, or what was left of one.
“Look at that,” she whispered. “It’s just like in the book—the old settlement by the bend in the river.”
Jackson nodded slowly, wonder flickering across his face. “Guess the legend was telling the truth after all.”
A quiet breeze rippled through the field, stirring the petals until they looked almost alive, a soft shimmer of blue, white, and silver sweeping across the grass.
“This is our meadow,” he said, turning back to her. His voice was low, certain. He leaned in and kissed her softly.
When they broke apart, he turned and pulled a blanket from his pack. “Hungry?” he asked.
“You planned a picnic?” she asked, her lips curving despite herself.
“My mom might’ve had a hand in it,” he said with a grin.
They spread out the blanket, unpacking crackers, a selection of cheese, cold cuts, and a jar of honey golden as sunlight. They ate with their fingers, laughing when honey smeared at the corner of Zoe’s mouth and Jackson wiped it away with his thumb.
“I still can’t believe it,” Zoe whispered, gazing at the meadow. “We thought these were extinct. And now look at them. They’re thriving.”
Jackson followed her gaze, then turned back to her. “Kind of like us.”
She smiled faintly, emotion catching in her throat. “We should tell the town soon. Share it with everyone.”
“We will,” he said. “But not yet. For now, it’s ours. One last secret before the world finds out.”
Jackson’s hand slid to the back of her neck. “Zoe,” he said, his voice low and rough, “you’re everything I ever wanted, but never thought I deserved.”
Her reply was lost against his lips. A deep kiss, full of years of ache and longing melting into something slow and consuming.
Zoe tugged at his shirt, needing more. He shifted closer, pressing her back against the blanket they’d spread out, the solid weight of him anchoring her.
“I know I hurt you. But I promise, if we keep going, if you want to, I’m not walking away again.” His gaze held hers, searching. “I just need you to trust me.”
Zoe swallowed hard. “You’re asking me to jump,” she whispered.
“No. I’m asking you to trust that I already have.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes. “Then what are you waiting for?”
His answering groan vibrated through her as his hands roamed her sides, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
Zoe lifted her arms, letting him peel it away, the cool air kissing her heated skin.
Every brush of his fingers made her ache—not just from want, but from the flood of memories that came with him.
The first time he’d smiled after everything he’d been through. The softness he tried so hard to hide.
His mouth trailed down her neck, pausing at the swell of her breasts.
When he unclasped her bra, her breath hitched, and she arched into him.
She couldn’t stop thinking that this, them, felt inevitable.
Like her whole life had been leading her right here, to this wild, impossible moment in their meadow.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, each word thick with need. He kissed lower, across her ribs, her belly, taking his time.
Zoe’s hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, desperate to feel his skin against hers.
The heat of him seared into her palms, the muscles beneath his scars shifting under her touch.
She wanted to tell him how strong he was, how she saw it all and wanted him anyway.
Instead, her words came out as a shaky whisper. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
When he finally slid her jeans down, Zoe lifted her hips to help, her body trembling with anticipation. The meadow around them blurred—the sunlight, the breeze, the far-off sound of his horse nickering—everything faded except Jackson.
His fingers teased at the edge of her panties, then slipped beneath, stroking slowly, deliberately, until she writhed beneath him. He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans, keeping her grounded even as pleasure coiled tight inside her.
“I love the way you sound,” he whispered against her lips. “The way you let go with me.”
She met his gaze, her pulse racing. “I’ve never let go like this with anyone else.” Zoe gasped, clinging to him. “It’s always been you.”
Jackson groaned low in his chest as he sank into her, the sound vibrating through Zoe’s whole body.
Her lips parted on a gasp, her back arching off the blanket as she clutched at his shoulders.
The stretch of him was perfect—almost overwhelming—but right.
So right it felt like coming home. She thought of every night she’d watched the stars over the years and wondered if he was doing the same.
Every wish she’d made for something steady, something real.
It was all here, in this one impossible moment.
Her fingers laced with his when he pinned her hands above her head.
His breath fanned hot across her cheek as he began to move, slow, deliberate, dragging out every second.
“Jackson,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He kissed her, swallowing her cry, his tongue tangling with hers as his hips rocked against her. Each thrust sent a delicious shiver racing through her, the friction maddeningly slow.
“You feel…” His words dissolved into a groan, his forehead pressing against hers. “Christ, Zoe. You feel unreal.”
Her heart squeezed tight. She blinked up at him, her vision blurred with tears she hadn’t expected. “Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
His mouth tipped in a half smile, half grimace of restraint. “Not a chance.”
Something primal flickered across his face then, the careful control snapping as his hips thrust harder, deeper. Zoe cried out, clutching his back, her nails digging into his skin as he set a steady rhythm that had her gasping.
The world shrank to the press of his body, the rough scrape of the blanket beneath her, the sweet ache of being filled so completely. His lips traced down her throat, across her collarbone, nipping and soothing, leaving her marked with his devotion.
Zoe wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, desperate to take all of him.
The meadow spun around her, the sunlight catching on the edge of his shoulders, the sheen of sweat glistening along his chest. She wanted to memorize it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened with need—as he gave himself to her.
Her release built fast, her body coiling tight, every nerve sparking under his touch. “Jackson,” she gasped, the plea spilling from her lips like a prayer.
“I’ve got you,” he groaned, his movements quickening. “Come with me, Zoe. I need to feel you.”
The world shattered as she broke apart beneath him, her cry echoing through the meadow. He followed her seconds later, his whole body tensing as he spilled inside her with a guttural cry, her name on his lips like a vow.
For a long moment, they just clung to each other, their breaths harsh and ragged, hearts pounding in unison.
And in that sun-drenched meadow, with the scent of grass and the sweet clover-like scent of the Moonlight Kiss still clinging to the air, Zoe knew she had just handed over her heart completely.