You don’t usually get nervous. Never have. Not when you’re working, not when you’re in town, not when folks are watching you.

But standing on Jackie’s porch, hat twisting in one hand and a bunch of wildflowers clutched tight in the other, you feel like you might come apart at the seams. Your palms are sweating, your boots feel too heavy, and your throat is dry as dust.

You messed up. Bad. So bad she won’t even look at you anymore. Not in church, not down by the diner, not anywhere. She ignores your calls, leaves your letters unopened, and won’t so much as throw you a glare across Main Street. And the silence? The way she pretends you aren’t even there? That cuts deeper than any fight, sharper than if she’d cussed you out in front of God and every neighbor in town.

That’s why you’re here now. You couldn’t take another day of it. This weight between you, the hollowness of knowing you were the one who put it there.

You shift on your heels, take a steadying breath, clear your throat, and knock once. Then again. The sound seems too loud in the quiet evening, but before you can second-guess yourself, the door creaks open.

And there she is.

Jackie Taylor. Long hair spilling down over her shoulders, catching the fading light. Her lips are pressed into a firm, unhappy line. Her arms are folded tight across her chest, over the sundress you’ve always thought looked like it was made just for her. The sight of her hits you hard, like a punch straight to the gut.

Your stomach lurches, your chest tightens, and suddenly you’re caught between wanting to run and wanting to fall to your knees right there on the porch. Because the way she’s looking at you, with those cold, steady eyes that used to soften whenever they found yours, makes your heart ache something fierce.

“You’ve got some nerve showin’ up here,” she says at last. Her voice is even, sharp, each word clipped clean, like your being there isn’t brave, or sweet, or desperate. It’s just unwelcome.

And standing there with your wildflowers, hat twisting between your fingers, you realize this might be the hardest fight you’ve ever picked: trying to win Jackie back.