Page 69 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“Where is all this coming from?” His voice ached, and he cupped her face.

She pushed him away. “You could have just told me. Asked for the help.”

“It was handled. I’d met with Sarah. My feelings for you didn’t have anything to do with Sarah, the land, and the potential for a signed-over deed. You and I were completely separate.”

“My father wants the property. He can build four of five more homes up there. He’s a businessman, but he’s not a thief. He wasn’t sneaking around.”

Jackson took a step back. “That’swhat you think?”

She nodded. Quick. Hard. There. Let him be pissed and walk away.

“That’s why you were in the orchard,” she said, awareness dawning. “You were doing reconnaissance.”

Let him prove I’m wrong.

“You think the worst of me,” he said like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You see the worst. Betrayal, greed, lies whereas I handed you an open heart.” He sounded a little winded, like he’d been running.

She felt like she was going to throw up. “I see facts.”

“No. You see fear. Your brave sister Chloe chooses happiness. Forgiveness. You choose fear and suspicion.”

And Jackson turned around, whistled for Whiskey, and walked back toward the firehouse.

*

“Back to whereI began,” Meghan said softly later that night as the last of the sun tipped toward the purple-gray horizon and sank millimeter by millimeter toward the other side of the world.

She sat in the orchard, much as she had over two months ago. A winner and a failure. She held the book in her hand and tried to find her courage. While she had no intention of climbing a tree, especially in the dark, she still had a few things to accomplish. She’d not made any progress hooking Sarah up with the professor, but she wasn’t willing to cry uncle on that.

But she had—maybe—found what Jackson was looking for.

And she should have driven, but she hoped the night would cool her rampaging thoughts. He’d all but called her a coward and he was wrong but also right.

And today had been about love and courage. Chloe and Rustin.

And when they’d searched Grandma Millie’s bedroom, attic, and office—Jessica and Storm helping for a few hours—she’d heard them whispering, kissing, and she doubted it would be long before the two of them made it official.

“Where’s my happy ending?”

She had to write it. She looked down at the box wrapped in a beautiful silk scarf with a gift tag with June’s name on it—so G. Millie. She’d known she didn’t have long, and she’d left gifts for other friends with their names on them, but the scarf wrapped round the box hadn’t signified as Sarah and Meghan had been looking for a legal paper. One sheet. Alone. But there was an envelope with G. Millie’s familiar calligraphy:To My Dear June.

“Courage,” she whispered and walked the rest of the way through the orchard and down the rise until she saw the small house, the faded barn just as the stars started winking on.

She was going to feel stupid that she didn’t drive if he wasn’t home, though she had brought a flashlight.

But his truck was there, and Whiskey slipped off the porch to greet her.

“Wasn’t expecting you.” Jackson sat on his own porch swing.

“I know. Quick trip.”

“Why?”

He sounded hurt. Defensive.

Like I feel.

“I think I might have found what you were looking for.” She held the box still wrapped in the scarf out toward him.

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