Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
JACKSON
Jackson woke up before dawn Easter morning with a ball of nerves in his stomach, which didn’t make any sense. He’d fed the animals, checked the fences, even swept his parents’ front porch steps, though they hadn’t really needed it.
The morning was perfect. All the recent rain made the verdant grass bright and welcoming. The sun shone through the maple trees, which were getting fuller by the day.
And yet, Jackson was anxious. Zoe had been over for dinner before. She’d even sat at this same table for Christmas dinner. But Easter felt different. This wasn’t just a meal. It was a holiday steeped in family tradition. And this was the first time he’d ever brought a girlfriend home for one.
For him, it was a big deal.
He wondered if Zoe felt the same. Normally, this might be too much, too fast. They had only just started officially dating. But then, nothing about their relationship had been normal.
At least they weren’t lying anymore. That was a relief. Jackson hated how it had felt to lie to the people he cared about. Now that Zoe was truly his, in every single way, he felt lighter. Honesty was important to him.
Jackson lingered near an upstairs window, trying not to pace, waiting. The fields stretched out behind the house, bare earth greening at the edges, the faint scent of fresh-turned soil drifting in through the screen. Today, though, even that view couldn’t quiet the tightness in his chest.
He heard Zoe’s car, the buzz of the engine, drift through the open window. He waited a beat, not wanting to seem too eager, to head downstairs.
His mom beat him to the door, arms wide. “There you are!” Beth cried, pulling Zoe in for a hug before she even had both feet inside. “And you look like spring itself, don’t you? That dress is just darling.”
Zoe laughed softly. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Come on in, Gertie, I’ve got a spot saved in the kitchen for you,” Beth added, ushering Zoe’s mother toward the adjoining room. But Gertie didn’t move quite yet. Jackson thought she spotted him coming down the stairs.
From the other room, Cassidy’s voice rang out. “Liam, you’re chopping those potatoes too big again. They’ll never cook in time.”
“They’re fine,” Liam shot back. Jackson could hear the good-natured exasperation in his voice.
Jackson descended the rest of the way down the stairs.
“There’s my future son-in-law!” Gertie declared, cupping Jackson’s cheeks in her palms and planting a kiss on one of them. “So handsome too.”
“Mom, we talked about this. We’re just dating,” Zoe said, shooting Jackson an apologetic look.
But Gertie’s words didn’t bother him. Not one bit. He had known Zoe his whole life, and the thought of marrying her—a thought he once believed was completely out of the picture—no longer scared him. In fact, it sounded like heaven.
The idea of being committed to her, through and through, for the rest of their days… Jackson found comfort in that.
He wanted Zoe by his side forever.
Not that he would tell her that now. They’d only been together once, and he was already thinking about marriage? She’d just shake her head. This wasn’t the 1800s.
Truth was, Jackson had never thought about marrying any of the other women he’d been with. But then, those had only ever been hookups. Zoe was different.
“You look great,” Jackson said, stepping in front of Zoe and greeting her with a kiss on the cheek, hand at her waist.
“Thanks, thought I might’ve overdone it with the matching hat, but I can’t help it. I love Easter.”
“It’s my favorite holiday, too.”
“How did I not know that?” Zoe asked, following after Jackson into the kitchen.
Jackson thought it hadn’t always been that way, but when he was overseas, he missed the fresh greenery. The smell of the earth after a heavy spring rain. The farm animals, the baby chicks, the start of a new planting season. He’d missed the feeling of things starting over. Of new beginnings.
“Where is your sister these days?” Gertie asked when they entered the kitchen. She was already hanging her coat and rolling up her sleeves to help Beth in the kitchen.
“Valid question. Isn’t she out in the Dakotas?” Jackson turned to his mom.
Lily had been home for Christmas, which had been a miracle in itself. Last he’d heard, she was rock climbing out west and guiding hikes for extra cash.
Zoe reminded him of Lily sometimes, the way both of them were so deeply connected to nature. But unlike Zoe, Lily would never settle down in one place. She was too wild at heart.
Beth put everyone to work. Liam and Cassidy put the finishing touches on the mashed potatoes and the stuffing.
Jackson and Zoe put together the relish trays, and brought out the deviled eggs and veggie dips.
Beth bustled between stove and counter, sliding trays into the oven while barking at Liam to quit sneaking samples.
Tom had been in charge of the deep fryer this year—a new addition to the Hawthorne holiday spread.
He’d spent the morning out on the porch with his thermometer, a lawn chair, and a look of fierce concentration as he lowered the bird into bubbling oil.
Now, the golden-brown turkey rested proudly beside the glazed ham, both sending up mouthwatering aromas that filled the kitchen.
Gertie was perched at the far end of the table, a mimosa in hand and mischief in her eyes. “I don’t know how you manage all this,” she said, popping an olive into her mouth. “If this were my kitchen, I’d have burned something by now.”
Jackson laughed at Gertie’s comment, because she wasn’t lying, and he tried to relax, to let the normal rhythms of family settle him, but something gnawed at the edges.
Zoe was smiling, laughing with Cassidy, but he’d known her his whole life.
He could tell when there was something behind her eyes she wasn’t saying.
He thought back to the hints she’d dropped about Ben.
About what ended things between them. He hadn’t pressed—he hadn’t wanted to push her.
But now it mattered. He couldn’t shake the worry that whatever Zoe was holding back might undo them before they really had a chance.
And what if it was him? His scars. His baggage.
Maybe he’d laid too much bare, too fast. Maybe he’d already scared her off.
He tightened his grip on the bottle, forcing himself to breathe. This wasn’t the time. They’d talk about it later—after ham and cheesy potatoes, after the community egg hunt they’d planned. In three hours, the farmyard would be packed with families eager for the annual Windy Acres egg hunt.
For now, he told himself, just enjoy a perfect spring day.