The ribbon came loose, and the egg split in two. Inside, nestled in a little bit of moss, was the delicate pale bloom.
A collective hush fell over the group.
Zoe stepped forward, her smile trembling with emotion. “This flower is called the Moonlight Kiss,” she said softly. “As some of you know, it’s a native species we thought was lost forever until Jackson and I stumbled across a hidden meadow in the hills.”
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Gertie pressed a hand to her heart. “You know what they say. Blue as the sky, white as the dove, carry the bloom, be blessed in love.” She looked pointedly at her daughter.
Zoe went on, her voice warm, steady. “We’re working to cultivate it again, right here at Winding Creek, as part of our Local Blooms project.”
Jackson slid an arm around her waist, pride glowing in his expression. “And with a little luck,” he said, “next Easter, there’ll be enough Moonlight Kisses for everyone.”
Zoe smiled up at him and nodded. “This is just the beginning.”
FORTY-FOUR
JACKSON
Sunday, April 6th
Later that evening, Jackson lingered inside the barn. The place was quiet now, except for the sounds of the animals munching on their treats. His parents had gone inside, and Liam had headed over to Cassidy’s. The spring air hummed with the low drone of crickets and the sweet scent of freshly turned fields.
He looked out toward the new cabins, picturing them once they were all completed. In another month, the veterans would be moving in for their retreats. Guys like him would be given a chance to find their footing again. A place to rest and heal.
A soft bleat sounded from the nearby pen. One of the goat kids, a little brown one with a white nose, was butting at the latch like she thought she could break free. Jackson crouched and scratched behind her ears. “You’re an adventurous one, aren’t you?”
He smiled faintly, straightening again. He told himself he’d head inside soon, maybe grab a shower, before heading over to Zoe’s.
Before she and her mom had left, she’d leaned close, her breath warm against his ear, and whispered, “Come stay the night.”
Jackson hadn’t needed to think. “Just tell me what time,” he’d said, and meant it.
Now, every movement carried a restless pulse that no amount of work could burn off. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she laughed. The soft curve of her smile when she thought he wasn’t looking. The warmth in her eyes that made him feel like he’d finally come home.
He wanted her everywhere. Downstairs in her flower shop, surrounded by rose petals and the faint hum of music, her perfume mixing with the sweetness of blooms. Slow and reverent in her bedroom. Hungry and desperate in her kitchen, where he’d lift her onto the counter. In the shower, steam curling around them as he pressed her to the tile, water running down her skin.
And underneath every thought, every pulse of want, was something deeper—something steady and terrifying and real.
It floored him sometimes with how many years he’d carried these fantasies, tamped them down, convinced himself they’d never happen. And now she was his. Now he could learn Zoe in every way, inside and out, body and heart.
But if he wanted to keep her, and if he wanted to deserve her, he had to take care of himself too. For the first time, earlier that afternoon, he’d filled out the new patient form online for a therapist. Someone who specialized in military clients, PTSD. A buddy had given him the contact details over a year ago, and the card had sat in his wallet ever since.
He’d stared at that blank form more than once, thumb hovering. Today, though, he’d hit submit. With Zoe, he finallyfelt ready. The act was small, but to him it felt monumental. A step forward.
He stepped out into the yard, the day’s light stretching longer now that spring was here. The horizon glowed lavender streaked with red. The air was soft, almost gentle, the kind of evening that promised calm.
But when Jackson looked west, storm clouds were rolling in, dark and heavy. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The day had run hotter than expected, and the cold front sweeping in meant storms were inevitable. The Midwest was notorious for them.
Lightning split the sky, so bright it painted the farmyard in harsh white. Thunder cracked after, low and rolling. And then the rain came—sheets of it, pounding the barn roof, turning the driveway into rushing streams.
Jackson pulled out his phone, thumb swiping across the radar. Reds and oranges pulsed over Maple Falls. Lightning strikes dotted the map. No tornado warning, thank God, but it was shaping up to be bad.
He was about to tuck his phone away when Zoe’s name lit the screen. “Hey. Let me wait for the storm to pass, then I’ll head your way,” he said when their lines connected.
Static filled his ear. Then, faint and panicked: “Jackson? Jackson, can you hear me?”
His gut clenched. She sounded like she was near an open window—or worse, outside. The roar of rain and wind nearly drowned her voice.
