“Would you want your pain laid bare for the person you love?” Jackson’s grip tightened on his mug.
“You’re more than your past, Jackson,” she said softly. “And Zoe knows that. She’s known you longer than anyone else in Maple Falls. You like to think you’re good at hiding things, but she sees you. And she loves you just how you are.”
“She doesn’t know everything,” Jackson snapped.
“No,” Beth agreed gently. “And she never will—unless you let her in. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. That’s what love is, honey. Being willing to be seen. Even in the hard times.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“It’s hard, I know. But isn’t she worth it?” Beth patted his hand, then turned back to the stove before the bacon burned.
Jackson had no appetite. The smell of pancakes, butter, and maple syrup smelled like home, like heart, but today it made his stomach turn.
He left the kitchen without breakfast. His mom’s words tumbled in his head as he walked toward the greenhouse. His latest shipment had arrived. It was water plants for the pond project, flats of wood anemones, and, unfortunately, another misplaced order for Zoe’s flower shop too. He couldn’t let the flowers sit and wilt. Just like he couldn’t let things go unresolved with her.
The drive into town felt longer than usual. Jackson gripped the wheel tighter than he needed to. Every mile closer to Maple Falls twisted his gut more. He kept replaying last night—the way Zoe had looked at him, hurt and dismayed, the words he’d thrown like stones. The anger and bitterness he’d never meant to show to her.
By the time the town square came into view, his palms were damp against the leather steering wheel. Maple Falls looked deceptively calm: shop windows propped open to let in the cool spring air, tulips blooming in the planter boxes along the sidewalks, sunlight glinting off the gazebo’s white paint. People were out with coffees in hand, their laughter carrying down Oak Way.
And then there was the Cherry Crush Flower Shop.
He spotted it instantly, the cheerful yellow awning stretched over the display window. Fresh arrangements filled the glass—pale daffodils, pink ranunculus, lilacs cut from someone’s garden. Even from across the street, it looked alive, vibrant. Everything Zoe was, and he wasn’t.
Jackson parked across from the shop and cut the engine. For a moment, he didn’t move. His hand lingered on the keys, the tick of the cooling engine filling the cab. He could just sit here. He could drive away. Pretend the delivery hadn’t come in. Pretend last night hadn’t happened.
But then he glanced at the passenger seat, at the crate of flowers waiting for her—her order, her world—and something in him hardened.
He owed her this. An honest apology.
Jackson dragged in a breath, shoved the truck door open, and climbed out. The air smelled faintly of coffee from the café down the block, and bread fresh from the bakery. He lifted the crate of flowers from the truck bed, the wood rough against his palms, and crossed the street.
The closer he got, the more he felt the weight in his chest. Through the glass, he could see Zoe moving inside, her hair loose around her shoulders as she adjusted a display. She looked so at ease among her blooms, sunlight glancing off her skin.
And he—he was about to walk in and shatter that calm all over again.
Jackson adjusted his grip on the crate, squared his shoulders, and as the little brass bell chimed, he pushed open the shop door.
THIRTY-ONE
ZOE
Saturday, March 22nd
Zoe’s breath hitched when she saw Jackson crossing the street toward her shop.
And it wasn’t the kind of breathlessness that came withOh God, he’s gorgeous.
It was panic.
Her pulse kicked up, sharp and fast, and her fingers curled around the edge of the counter. She knew they needed to talk—of course they did—but she hadn’t planned on it being this morning. Zoe was still angry with him. And hurt.
In her head she’d given herself at least the weekend to prepare. Surely they didn’t have to be seen together every single day to pull off this Couple of the Year thing.
God, she couldn’t believe they were only halfway through. How were they going to pull this off for the next three weeks?
She wavered for a second, but then he was nearly at the door. And her chest ached with the way he’d pulled back last night. It had hurt her deep. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. Not when every part of her was still raw.
A shadow fell across the front window as a raincloud slipped over the sun. The light inside the shop dulled, dim and heavy. Zoe spun on her heel and ran for the back, skirts brushing against her legs, then up the narrow stairs to her apartment.
