And tonight, she’d taken one small, terrifying step toward making that dream her own.
Whiskers interrupted Zoe’s moment by weaving between her legs, begging once more for food.
“Alright, alright. But just a little bit.” Zoe walked over and poured a small handful into her porcelain dish.
Her kitty purred, already devouring her second dinner, blissfully unaware of Zoe’s heart twisting itself in knots.
“Friend zone,” she whispered, forcing herself to believe the words because losing him wasn’t an option.
And yet, even as she said it, her chest ached. Because she didn’t just want a whimsical adventure with a friend. She wanted him, all of him. A family. A future. Everything she’d been too afraid to admit aloud. And she wanted it with Jackson.
There had never truly been anyone else for her. She could see it so clearly, the holidays spent with his family at the farm, the late nights up with their little ones, rocking them to sleep. The midnight dances in the kitchen. The knowing that no matter what life threw at them, he’d always be by her side. Forever.
That was the type of love they’d have, if he’d only just let her in.
EIGHTEEN
JACKSON
Tuesday, March 11th
The barn was quiet except for the rustle of hay and the low huff of llamas shifting in their stalls. Jackson dragged the brush down Tinsel’s thick coat, straw folding underfoot, the familiar rhythm settling something in his chest. Out here, in the dim wash of a single bulb, he could almost believe he was okay.
Almost.
The llama flicked an ear, and Jackson murmured, “Easy, just a brush.”
Nights alone like this helped. Just him and the llamas and horses. No questions from his dad. No watchful eyes from his mom at dinner. Here, he could just work with the animals, accepted as he was.
He moved on to Daisy, placing a hand against her flank, fingers buried in coarse wool. Daisy had always been partial to Zoe. She’d follow her around the paddock like a dog, nosing at her hair until she laughed. Even the animals couldn’t resist her.
Jackson shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts from returning to the woman in his mind, but she was impossible to forget. He pictured her, lips parted, her body warm against his.He could’ve had her, right there on the table. The thought sent a shiver straight through him.
He’d nearly lost himself in her. Nearly let himself believe he could be the man she deserved.
Then came the crash in his memory, again. A door slamming. Gunfire ripping through the air. His buddy’s face, pale in the dirt. Jackson’s chest locked, his hand frozen on Daisy’s side. He blinked hard, but the images never left.
He forced the brush back into motion, but he was a bit too rough, earning a grunt from Daisy. “Sorry,” he muttered, easing his strokes. His throat burned.
Zoe didn’t know he often woke up choking on screams, sheets knotted around him like restraints. What kind of man broke like that, alone at two in the morning? Certainly not one who could give Zoe the steady life, the family, the safe home she deserved.
The brush slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor. He crouched to retrieve it, shoulders tight, eyes flicking to the corners of the barn. Always alert. Always braced for danger. Stupid. This was Maple Falls, not Kabul. But his body didn’t know the difference.
Daisy nudged him as he stood, and he managed a ghost of a smile and stroked her neck.
Behind him, a quiet whinny echoed from the last stall.
He turned.
“Hey, girl,” he murmured.
Fern, his black mare, poked her head over the stall gate, ears perked, eyes calm and steady. Jackson set the brush aside and crossed the barn.
Fern had been his first real investment after coming home, and they’d bonded right away. She hadn’t flinched when he’d spooked at shadows or gone silent for days. She didn’t ask questions when he stood in her stall in the middle of the night,needing the company of a living, breathing thing that didn’t expect words.
He rubbed her between the eyes, and she leaned into the touch, letting out a slow exhale through her nose.
“I know,” he said softly. “I messed it all up.”
