Page 81 of Worth the Wait

"Early. But I want to show you something before we head to your parents'." I'm already dressed in jeans and a light sweater, the spring morning carrying just enough chill to justify layers—and pockets, where the small box now rests, burning against my thigh like a brand.

She squints at me suspiciously. "Something that requires waking up at"—she glances at the bedside clock, groaning—"six forty-five on a Saturday?"

"Trust me," I say, dropping another kiss on her forehead. "It'll be worth it."

Twenty minutes later, she's dressed and marginally more awake, nursing a travel mug of coffee as we slip out of my sleeping parents' house. The morning air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and distant lilacs, the sun just beginning its climb above the horizon, painting the sky in watercolor washes of pink and gold.

"Where are we going?" she asks as I lead her down the sidewalk rather than toward the car.

"Memory lane," I answer, taking her hand. "Literally."

We walk in comfortable silence, Tarryn gradually becoming more alert with each sip of coffee and step into our shared past. I guide us toward the high school.

"Seriously?" She laughs but follows me toward the main entrance, its steps worn from generations of teenage feet. "Breaking and entering wasn't on my weekend agenda."

"We're not breaking in. Just revisiting the scene of the crime." I tug her toward a specific spot near the east entrance, where lockers once lined the hallway visible through large windows. "Right here is where you accused me of copying your biology notes."

Her laughter echoes in the morning quiet. "Because youwerecopying my notes! You had your notebook open to the exact same page, with half the content already matched word for word."

"A deliberate strategy," I admit, pulling her closer. "I'd been trying to figure out how to talk to you for weeks. The brilliant, gorgeous Tarryn Wells, who intimidated every guy with her brain and those legs that seemed to go on forever."

"Smooth talker," she murmurs, but I can see the flush spreading across her cheeks, the pleased smile she's trying to suppress. "I was so annoyed with you."

"Until I offered to buy you a milkshake as an apology."

"Chocolate peanut butter. Extra whipped cream." She sighs at the memory. "God, you were persistent."

"Best decision I ever made." I brush my lips against hers, marveling at how the chemistry between us has only intensified with time. "Come on, we have more stops on this tour."

We walk past the football field, the diner, the public library where we studied for SATs, each location building toward the real destination, for what comes next. Tarryn follows along, increasingly curious as we leave the main part of town behind, heading toward the outskirts where my grandparents' farm once stood.

"Jackson?" Uncertainty colors her voice as the road narrows, houses giving way to open countryside. "Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see. Just a little farther."

When we reach the old property line, I lead her past what used to be my grandparents' driveway—now just a gravel path leading to empty land, the farmhouse demolished years ago after they passed. But beyond, just over the gentle rise of a hill, lies what we've come to see.

"Oh my God," Tarryn breathes as we crest the hill. "It's still here."

The daisy field stretches before us, a blanket of white and gold swaying in the gentle morning breeze. Exactly as it was eight years ago, when she wore flower crowns in her hair and we dreamed impossible dreams under an endless summer sky.

"My dad never sold this portion of the land," I explain, watching emotion flicker across her face. "Said it was too pretty to develop."

She steps into the field, fingers trailing over the delicate blooms. The sight of her surrounded by daisies again, her chestnut hair catching the sunlight, her simple sundress fluttering around her knees, steals my breath. It's like time has folded in on itself, giving us a second chance at a moment we once thought lost forever.

"It's exactly the same," she whispers, turning in a slow circle.

"Some things are meant to endure," I say, my voice rougher than intended as I move to join her among the flowers. My hand slips into my pocket, fingers closing around the velvet box as anticipation drums through my veins. "Like us."

She turns to me. “Jackson, this is so?—"

Before she can finish, I sink to one knee among the daisies, watching her eyes widen as understanding dawns.

"Tarryn Wells," I begin, my voice steady despite the earthquake in my chest. "Eight years ago, in this very field, we were just kids dreaming of a future together. We weren't ready then, not for the challenges that came, not for the sacrifices required, not for forever."

I open the box, revealing the ring—my grandmother's diamond reset in a delicate daisy pattern, petals of smaller stones surrounding the central gem.

"But I think we're finally ready now. We've built careers, faced our fears, found our way back to each other against impossible odds." My voice cracks slightly, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "And I don't want to spend another day not being yours completely."

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