Page 14 of Reclaimed Roots

"Can you blame him? The way things ended between you two..."

"I had to leave, Mom. You know that. I was suffocating here."

The words rang hollow. The truth was, I'd been running from more than just the claustrophobia of Sable Point. I'd been running from the intensity of my feelings for Jasper.

I knew deep down that he was it for me. That if I let myself love him fully, I'd never be able to leave. And I'd had plans—college, a career, a life that didn't revolve around apple harvests and small-town gossip.

So I'd broken both our hearts and fled for the city, telling myself it was for the best. That we were too young to know how we truly felt. That our love would never last.

But the joke was on me. Seven years later, and there was an ache so deep in my bones that I feared nothing would ever soothe it.

Seeing Jasper again, feeling that old pull, it made mewonder if I'd been lying to myself all along. Suddenly I was questioning everything I'd thought I wanted.

"I think I'm going to take a walk," I said, suddenly desperate for air and space, "clear my head a bit."

Mom nodded. "Take your time. I'll start sorting through these files, see what I can make sense of."

I kissed her cheek before grabbing my purse and heading for the door. The end-of-May sunshine warmed my skin and a light breeze ruffled my hair. It was still early, and Main Street was quiet. I wandered aimlessly, my feet carrying me past the familiar storefronts and tidy little flower beds.

I had no destination in mind, but I wasn't surprised when I ended up at the edge of the Evertons' orchard. Neat rows of apple trees stretched out before me, and bees hummed lazily from blossom to blossom. The late spring air was sweet with the promise of fruit to come.

So many hours spent here—as a kid, as a teenager, as a young woman drunk on her first love. Jasper and I practically lived in these trees, stealing kisses in the dappled shade, dreaming our big dreams under the stars.

I hadn't realized how much I missed this place. The peace of it, the connection to something older and deeper than myself.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the rumble of an engine, and I turned to see a battered pickup truck bumping down the orchard lane. It pulled to a stop a few yards away, and my heart stuttered as a familiar figure climbed out from behind the wheel.

Jasper.

I drank himin, really looked at him for the first time since my return. His chiseled jaw was dusted with scruff, those incredible cheekbones I used to love tracing with my fingertips were more defined than ever. His shoulders strained against his t-shirt, the fabric pulled taut over hard planes of muscle that definitely weren't there when we were kids.

He was all man now, rugged and powerful and... beautiful. That's the only word for it, as cliché as it sounded. The sight of him made my mouth water and my palms sweat.

A faint scar peeked through the stubble on his chin—he'd had it since he was ten. We were riding our bikes through the orchard, and he hit a fallen branch and rocketed over the handlebars, straight into the trunk of a tree.

It wasn't his only scar. There was another on the crown of his head, hidden beneath unruly chestnut waves and a backwards baseball cap. He had earned that one on the swing set in my backyard. We were fifteen, and he was showing off doing pull-ups—counting them out. When I'd promised him a kiss for each one he completed, he got a little too enthusiastic.

He pulled up too hard and hit his head on a rusty bolt. There was blood everywhere, pouring from the wound on his head. Dad came running when he heard me scream. I remembered how he'd scooped Jasper up in his arms despite the fact that Jasper had several inches and a couple dozen pounds on him. Adrenaline, I guessed.

Mom met us at the truck with a towel while Dad tuckedJasper safely into the backseat with me. "Apply pressure to his head, cricket," Dad instructed.

The memories sent a spasm of pain coursing through my chest, but I forced myself to meet Jasper's eyes—the same smoky amber that still haunted my dreams.

He stopped short when he saw me, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into a chilly mask. "Natalie. What are you doing here?"

His voice was rougher than I remembered, raspier. It sent a shiver skittering down my spine, even as I was bristling at the curt question.

"I was just walking. Needed some air." I lifted my chin. "Is that a problem?"

Something like amusement glinted in his eyes. "No, not a problem. It's a free country."

He moved to the back of the truck and began unloading crates of tools and supplies. I watched the flex of his shoulders, the surety of his movements. He'd always been at home here, in tune with the rhythm of the land. He belonged in Sable Point. I could never imagine him anywhere else.

"How's your mom doing?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"She's... dealing." I toyed with the strap of my purse, suddenly uncertain. "We were just at Dad's office going through things, trying to decide what to do with the business."

Jasper nodded, avoiding my gaze. "That's good of you. I'm sure she appreciates the help."

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