Zoe groaned. “This isn’t funny.”
“Feels a little funny from where I’m standing.” The corner of his mouth tipped up into that rare almost-smile she always managed to drag out of him. “Besides, Liam texted me last night about us. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Her cheeks went crimson. “Oh my God, he did not.”
Jackson nodded. “I told him he was out of his mind. That we were just friends.”
“Exactly! We are just friends,” she said quickly, then bit her lip.
For half a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
“What am I going to do, Jackson? Do I just tell her the truth and try to get her money back? She was so happy. It kills me. And knowing my mom, she’s probably already called her bridge club and announced it. By now, half the town thinks we’re head over heels in love.”
Her voice cracked, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Jackson wasn’t going to let that happen.
This was his chance to step up. To be there for her. That was what he knew how to do: fix things for other people. It was the same reason he poured himself into the llama sanctuary, into building a refuge for veterans. Helping others gave him something outside his own head, something that quieted the guilt that gnawed at him.
And Zoe? Zoe had been such a steady presence when he came home. Sure, his family had been there for him too, but not like Zoe. His parents had tried, but sometimes they did too much with the way they hovered, worried, and asked too many questions. While Liam filled every silence with noise, as if laughter could drown out what he couldn’t talk about.
But Zoe never tried to fix him. She never pressed for details or forced conversation when the quiet stretched too long. She’d simply been there—sitting beside him on the dock at dusk,passing him coffee on the mornings when sleep had eluded him. She was the kind of comfort he hadn’t known he needed until she gave it freely.
God, how many times had he wished he could just ask her out, claim her smile, her warmth, her heart? But that wasn’t fair. She deserved someone whole, not a man weighed down by ghosts.
So no, he couldn’t date her. But he could help her. He could be the one to step in now, to give her what she needed.
“I say we do it,” he said.
Zoe blinked. “What?”
“I say we pretend we’re dating. Go along with it. Win Couple of the Year, win your mom her money, save her vacation fund.”
“Jackson, you don’t have to. I would never ask you to do this.”
“You didn’t ask,” he said gently. “I offered. I care about your mom too. If this helps her—and makes you happy—I say we give it a go.”
“You’d agree to fake date me until the Spring Fling?” Zoe asked, her voice pitching higher.
Jackson saw the look in her eyes, the doubt. And he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t always handle community events the best, and the Spring Fling always drew a crowd.
It had been the same this past Christmas at the Santa House. Zach had been there, Madison, Kit, Cassidy too. All their friends except for his brother, Liam. If anyone could understand what he felt, it was Liam. His twin had faced down his own demons. But unlike his brother, Jackson’s issues weren’t tied to a holiday.
The air had smelled of hot cocoa and pine, carolers singing on the corner, kids bouncing, waiting to see the big man in red himself. It should’ve been magical.
But for him, it hadn’t been. The noise pressed in, the crush of bodies making his skin crawl. His pulse had spiked, palmsdamp, vision tunneling until all he could think about was finding an exit. He’d been one breath away from a full-blown panic attack.
And Zoe had seen it. She always did. She’d slipped her arm through his, steered him outside with some excuse about needing air. She gave him an out before anyone else noticed.
She’d been laughing, glowing, clearly enjoying the night, and she’d missed the rest of it because of him.
That was the truth that sat heavy in his chest now.
Which was why this had to stay fake. A harmless act for her mom’s sake. Because he’d rather break his own heart a hundred times over than hurt Zoe once.
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
Zoe’s stance relaxed. Her shoulders relaxed. And the crease between her eyes eased.
“Okay, ground rules,” she said quickly, as if she were afraid he might change his mind. She started ticking them off on her fingers. “Rule one: You have to look like you’re enjoying yourself. None of that stoic farmer-glare thing you do.”
