Page 9 of Forever In Willow Creek

There was a long pause, then Zoe reached out and took his hand.

“I want to try,” she said. “I don’t know what that looks like yet. But I know I don’t want to go back to the life I had. And I know I don’t want to lose you.”

Luke’s jaw flexed, emotion flickering behind his eyes. Then he pulled her into a hug—tight, grounding, real.

“You won’t,” he murmured into her hair.

They stayed like that for a while, surrounded by the smell of motor oil and steel and something beautiful developing between them.

Chapter 8: Finding Peace

Zoe’s alarm never went off.

She didn’t need it anymore.

For the first time in years, she woke not to the shriek of a phone or the flashing of calendar reminders, but to the soft light of dawn stretching across the floorboards. The sound of birdsong drifted through the cracked window, and instead of dread, there was… calm.

She lay there a while, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket and something even softer a quiet confidence she hadn’t felt since childhood.

This wasn’t the life she planned.

But it was beginning to feel like the one she needed.

By midmorning, she was atSweet Bloom Flowers, elbow-deep in dusty ribbons and jars of dried lavender, helping Sarah prep the shop’s fall display. The task was mindless in a good way, busy, heart light.

“You’re humming,” Sarah teased, holding up a spool of burnt-orange ribbon.

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

Zoe rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it. There was a tranquility in her chest now, a kind of quiet that had once been foreign to her. It didn’t mean the old life was gone—her phone still vibrated with unchecked messages. Her work laptop wasstill in the cottage, probably glaring at her from under the desk. But she wasn’t rushing to it anymore.

She didn’t feel like she had to.

That afternoon, she strolled through the square with an iced tea in hand and nowhere to be. Children ran past her with sticky fingers and laughter in their wake. An old man dozed on a bench beside the bakery. Granny Mae sat under her favorite tree with a deck of playing cards and a knowing look in her eyes as Zoe passed.

And then there was Luke.

She spotted him down the street, crouched beside a boy’s bicycle, helping the child adjust a chain. His sleeves were rolled up, grease on his forearms, that familiar curve of concentration etched into his brow. He looked up when he felt her watching.

His smile wasn’t broad—but it was warm, familiar, and steady. Like it belonged there.

Later, they met at the cottage, sitting together on the porch steps, feet bare and drinks in hand. The sky was streaked with amber and pink, the last warmth of the day fading into a soft chill.

“You seem lighter,” Luke said, nudging her knee with his own.

“I feel lighter,” Zoe admitted. “It’s weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

She smiled. “The kind that makes you question why you made everything so complicated for so long.”

He nodded, gazing out at the trees. “I’ve always believed the right place doesn’t just slow you down—it reintroduces you to yourself.”

Zoe glanced at him. “Is that what this is? Me, meeting myself again?”

Luke chuckled. “Something like that.”

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