They grew in small clusters along the edge of the meadow, half-hidden among the taller grasses near the steaming spring. Their petals were the softest shade of blue with streaks of silver, fading to a silvery white at the center, as though each one held a drop of captured moonlight. Mist curled low around them, making them shimmer like they were alive, pulsing faintly with light.
“The Moonlight Kisses,” murmured Jackson.
Zoe’s heart nearly stopped.
Jackson swung down from the saddle and turned to help her dismount. His hands closed around her waist, firm and careful, guiding her to the ground. She felt the warmth of him even after he let go.
They took a moment, letting the meadow come alive around them.
After securing Xavier, they picked their way carefully down the slope, the grass soft beneath their boots, the air sweet with pollen and green things. Zoe dropped to her knees in the middle of the meadow. She dug out her phone, snapping picture after picture, unable to capture the sheer magic of it.
Finally, she pulled out her shears and leaned low over a cluster of the rare blossoms Edith had described, clipping a few stems with reverence and sliding them into a plastic bag. Her fingers trembled as she sealed it.
“I can’t believe we found it,” she whispered, almost afraid the words might shatter the illusion. “I’d started to think we never would.”
She sat among the flowers. The air shimmered with light, the hum of bees, the flutter of wings. She could have stayed there forever, surrounded by color and sunlight.
When she looked up, Jackson wasn’t watching the meadow at all. He was watching her.
The weight of his gaze pinned her where she was, a heat she felt down to her bones. His eyes weren’t casual, weren’t friendly—they were dark, intense, like he was trying to memorize every line of her face, every curve of her body bent among the blooms.
Zoe’s breath hitched. Her fingers stilled around the shears.
Her heart thudded, traitorous and loud in her chest. “What?” she asked softly, half a laugh in her voice, though she felt anything but light.
Jackson didn’t answer. Not with words. His jaw flexed, his stance shifting, every inch of him radiating tension. Want.
Zoe blinked up at him, forcing an innocent expression, though her pulse was wild. “Is this another one of those willow tree moments?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes only grew darker. He took a slow step toward her, the air between them tightening.
“I meant what I said,” Jackson murmured. “My running days are over.”
Zoe rose to her feet, meeting him eye to eye. “Good,” she said softly, but there was steel in her voice. “Because whatever happens next—this, us—it doesn’t erase what came before. You hurt me, Jackson. And it’s going to take a while to fix that.”
He flinched, just slightly, but didn’t look away.
She stepped closer, close enough that she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek. “I want to believe you,” she admitted. “I really do. But you’ve got a lot of proving to do before I can.”
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of earth and flowers, of warmth and renewal. Then, slowly, she reached up, brushing her fingertips along the edge of his jaw.
“So if this is the start of something real,” she whispered, “show me.”
Her words still hung in the air when Jackson bent, closing the space between them. His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up as his mouth claimed hers. The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was heat and hunger.
She gasped softly, gripping his shirt as he pulled her up from the grass and into him. The wildflowers bent around them, the hum of bees forgotten. His hands roamed her back, her waist, skimming her hips, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching her. She melted into him, giving back everything he asked for and more.
He eased her down into the grass, stretching out beside her, his body sheltering hers. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, moving with maddening patience. Zoe writhed against him, already aching, every teasing stroke making her crazier with need.
She kissed him desperately, turning into him, her mouth hungry and deep, but his fingers were slow, purposeful, coaxing her higher until she could hardly think. She wanted all of him—his mouth, his hands, his touch.
Just as the tension coiled tight inside her, the sky gave way.
The first drop landed cool against her cheek. Then another. And then the heavens opened. Rain poured hard and fast, soaking through the fabric of her shirt in an instant, plastering her hair to her face, and streaming down Jackson’s jaw as he swore under his breath.
“Come on—” He grabbed her hand and they bolted for the trees at the edge of the meadow, laughter spilling from Zoe’s lips even as the rain plastered her shirt to her skin. But the ground was slick, the grass treacherous, and halfway there, her foot slipped. Pain shot through her ankle as it gave way, folding onto itself. She stumbled with a cry.
Jackson was there in an instant, catching her, his arms strong and steady even as the storm raged around them. Theheat of what had just passed still hummed between them, but the moment was gone. The meadow had been theirs, but the storm had claimed it back.
