“Here, I got you,” he said, scooping her up and carrying her the rest of the way to safety under the white pines. Zoe wanted to protest, but she had a feeling she couldn’t put weight on it. Not yet. Not when it was throbbing and tears stung her eyes.
He knelt, setting her carefully on a bed of needles, his hands gentle as he crouched in front of her ankle. “Let me see.”
Zoe hissed when he brushed her skin. “It’s not broken,” she said quickly, trying to laugh, though her ankle throbbed.
His jaw tightened, eyes flicking to hers. “It’s not good either.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said as if trying to convince herself.
Jackson glanced toward Xavier, who waited just beyond the pines, ears flicking nervously at the thunder. Without a word, Jackson swept Zoe up in his arms and carried her through the rain to join his horse.
“Wait a minute!” Zoe laughed, gripping his shoulder. “You don’t have to—I can hobble over.”
“Really?” Jackson looked down at her, rain dripping off his tousled hair, that don’t-argue-with-me look written all over his face.
Zoe sighed, the protest dying on her lips. “Fine,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck as thunder rolled in the distance. “Have it your way, cowboy.”
His answering smile was quick and quiet, and for just a heartbeat—between the storm, the scent of rain, and the warmth of his arms—it was easy to believe he’d become her knight in shining armor after all.
THIRTY-SIX
JACKSON
Sunday, March 23rd
Zoe tried to protest when he lifted her onto Xavier’s back, but one sharp look from Jackson silenced her.
“Just hold onto me,” he said, steady and sure.
He swung up behind her, the leather creaking as the horse shifted beneath them. The rain had passed, but droplets still fell steady from the canopy of trees. In the distance, the clouds thinned to wisps, allowing streaks of pale gold sunshine to filter through. Zoe sat carefully in front of him, her ankle tucked to the side, her hands resting lightly against his forearm where it wrapped around her waist.
Every muscle in Jackson’s body was attuned to her, how she moved, how she breathed, the way she leaned ever so slightly into him when Xavier picked up pace. Each shift of her weight pressed her closer, and he found himself wishing, selfishly, that the trail home was longer.
“You comfortable?” he asked quietly.
“I’m okay,” she murmured. “Just sore.”
He nodded, keeping his tone light. “I’ll get you back as quickly as I can.”
Jackson couldn’t believe how much had changed in the past twenty-four hours. How he went from thinking his chance with Zoe was shot, to having her cradled in front of him, his arm steady around her waist.
He adjusted the reins with one hand, the other keeping steady against her ribs, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. This simple act of holding her felt more important than anything he’d done in years.
“Thank you, by the way, for everything,” Zoe said.
“Everything?”
“Everything you’ve done—for the country, for the farm, for your family. For me. You show up, Jackson. That matters.”
Her words sank deep, where he usually didn’t let anyone reach. Compliments weren’t something he knew what to do with. Outside of his mother, no one had handed them to him freely. Not unless it was tied to medals from the military. And those achievements didn’t feel like victories. The medals themself stayed buried in a drawer, as locked away as the memories that came with them. But maybe…maybe he didn’t need to keep it all locked away.
Jackson looked out over the fields as they emerged from the trees, the farmhouse in the distance framed by the late-afternoon light. He wanted to say more, to thankherfor giving him a chance, but he hated the way that sounded. Because gratitude didn’t seem big enough for what he felt. She wasn’t just a second chance—she wasthechance. The one person who made him believe he might still be whole some day.
So instead, he tightened his arm around her, keeping her close as they rode.
And in that quiet, rain-soaked moment, Jackson knew he was utterly, completely in love, and there was no turning back.
THIRTY-SEVEN
