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.
FORTY-THREE
ZOE
Sunday, April 6th
“I absolutely love this!” Zoe said, sneaking around the farmyard and tucking a bright blue plastic egg beneath a tuft of daffodils.
They weren’t real eggs like the ones she had hidden when she was little—these were filled with tiny toys, stickers, temporary tattoos, and, of course, candy. Beth had gone all out this year. Zoe, Jackson, Cassidy, and Liam had been darting about for the past half hour, weaving between the barns and garden rows, slipping eggs into hollow logs, fence posts, and under fresh green tufts of spring growth.
Not to mention the special golden egg.
Zoe brushed a hand against her pocket, where she’d tucked the bloom safely before they hid it. A single stem of the Moonlight Kiss.
Now, crouching by the garden wall, she nestled the egg among the early tulips and smiled.
The Hawthorne family Easter egg hunt was a tradition, just like it was the hub for Christmas trees in winter, and pumpkin spice lattes and hayrides in the fall. Zoe had taken it for granted, to be truthful. Then she had deeply missed this aspect ofcommunity and small-town life when she moved away with Ben all those years ago.
“Is that all of them?” Jackson hollered over.
Zoe looked down at her empty basket. “That’s all I’ve got,” she shouted back.
Jackson met her in front of the llama barn.
“Where did Cassidy and Liam go?” Jackson looked over his shoulder.
A muffled laugh floated from the back of the barn. Zoe bit back a smile. “Pretty sure I know where. And I’m not about to interrupt.”
Jackson shook his head, a rare grin spreading on his face.
That grin—it got her every time. It was rare enough that it felt like a gift, each one carving deeper into her chest. She couldn’t help but mirror it, her lips tugging upward despite the unease that had been gnawing at her all morning.
Because the truth was, she was thinking too much. Every time she looked at him, every time she felt his presence beside her, she thought about what came next. About the conversations she hadn’t had yet. About the appointment she hadn’t told him about. IVF wasn’t something you could put off forever. And she refused to fall into the same trap she had with Ben, waiting, hoping, dragging things out until it all broke.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jackson asked suddenly, watching her too closely.
