Charlotte planted her hands on her hips and stared at her father. "So… how did it go?"
Jonathan exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. Of course, she was back in her denim shorts and T-shirt.
She wore the dress Joanne had bought her once. And never again.
"Why are you here now?" he muttered, his blue eyes filled with exasperation. "You should be at school."
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Seriously?
It wasn't like she asked him to solve world peace. She just wanted to know if he had finally asked Joanne out. She had given him the perfect excuse—delivered it on a silver platter, even.
Did he chicken out?
"It's my lunch break," she said, because she knew he wouldn't answer if she didn't answer him first.
Jonathan frowned. "Still, you can't just barge into my office like this."
He had spent years trying to tame his daughter's wild spirit and managed to fail every time. She was her mother's daughter, through and through.
And honestly?
He didn't even have the heart to be mad.
"Well, I'm here now." Charlotte leaned against his desk, smirking. "And I'm not leaving until you answer me." Then, tilting her head mischievously, she added, "Or should I go ask Jo myself?"
Jonathan paled.
Bingo.
Charlotte grinned.
"I asked her out," he admitted, sounding defeated. "She said yes. We're having dinner."
"Yes!" Charlotte screeched in triumph, nearly cracking the glass tabletop.
She knew it!
She just knew it!
"I told you dyeing your hair would work! I knew she'd say yes!"
Jonathan groaned, but Charlotte was already planning the entire date for him.
"Dad, bring her to the city—the big restaurant, the fancy one, the one with all the stars! And get her flowers! And—"
Her enthusiasm doubled.
Then, with a skip in her step, she dashed out of his office. Jonathan watched her go, his lips twitching into a smile.
She was the happiest he'd ever seen her.
Then she was gone. And the smile faded…
His gaze drifted to the framed photograph on his desk.
His wife.
The last picture he had taken of her before—
Before everything.
He reached for it, his fingers trembling. He wanted to put it down—Wanted to believe that moving on was possible.
Charlotte wanted him to be happy. He should be able to forget, right?
But his fingers clenched around the frame.
He couldn't.
He sighed.
Maybe next time.
Maybe he'd try harder.
-----
JD hung the freshly developed pictures on the line, watching as they swayed slightly in the dim light.
He was lucky to have found a darkroom in this town.
John Sullivan, an old photographer who once considered himself the town's reporter and journalist, had kindly offered JD the use of his personal darkroom.
John was alright.
At eighty, he had long retired, but he still carried the air of a man who had once lived for the thrill of capturing life through a lens.
He talked. A lot. But JD didn't mind. He knew that once men reached a certain age, they longed to talk about their past—their glory days. John was proud of his sons, who had settled well in life. He spoke of them often, of their successes, of his grandchildren.
JD listened.
And it made him think of his own grandfather. Wouldn't his grandfather have wanted to brag about him, too?
Had he ever given the old man a reason?
No. He'd only given him reasons to apologize for his reckless ways.
The realization sat heavy on JD's chest.
John even refused payment, insisting that JD should keep up his hobby, genuinely pleased that someone young still appreciated the craft of developing film.
Now, sitting in the café, JD flipped through the photos he had taken. Even the old roll of film that had been inside the camera when he found it had turned out well.
His fingers lingered over one particular photo.
Joanne.
The first picture he had taken of her, the moment he had lifted that camera in her living room and snapped the shot.
Her expression was one of surprise—wide eyes, lips slightly parted, frozen in shock.
But, boy—did she photograph well.
The camera loved her.
Her beautiful red hair cascaded around her face like a painting brought to life. Her green eyes, captured in stillness, were unreal.
JD knew green eyes were tricky.
They tended to shift with the light, adapting to their surroundings, never quite the same shade twice. But here—in this photograph—her eyes were the purest green he had ever seen.
Striking. Hypnotic.
And how had he never noticed before? He interacted with her every day, yet somehow, it took a still image to make him see just how beautiful she was.
The delicate curve of her nose, the fullness of her lips—that aristocratic bone structure that made her look like she belonged in an old Hollywood film.
How was she not a model? Or an actress?
And more importantly—
How was she still single?
Well… she wasn't going to stay single for long, was she? She was going to get what she wanted—marriage.
JD's fingers hesitated before flipping to the next photo.
Another one of Joanne.
And another.
His stomach twisted as realization hit him. Most of the pictures in his collection were of her. Some taken with her knowledge, many without.
Candid moments—her laughing with the farmhands, brushing back her hair absentmindedly, gazing out at the fields, lost in thought, even looking sad.
He hadn't meant to—had he?
Photography was supposed to be his passion. His escape. But somewhere along the way, it had become a reflection of his heart.
What he wanted…
He wanted her.
Even when he thought he was just doing what he loved—capturing light, angles, and fleeting moments—his mind had been filled with her.
And that terrified him.
He had told himself it was just infatuation—just a passing attraction—puppy love, nothing more.
He barely knew her, didn't he?
But his heart had betrayed his mind. She obviously meant more to him.
How? How was he feeling this deeply, this fast? Had he ever fallen in love this quickly before?
He couldn't remember.
And maybe that was the answer.
He never had.
JD blew out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. He didn't know how to navigate this.
He needed air.
A long walk back to the farm would clear his head. There were no Ubers out here anyway, and besides—he wanted the silence.
He walked, hands shoved into his pockets, his mind tangled in a mess of thoughts.
The town faded behind him, and he followed the winding road cutting through the woods, his boots crunching against the gravel.
Then—
A sharp honk.
JD flinched slightly, turning toward the sound.
A truck had slowed beside him, its tires kicking up dust. The passenger-side door swung open. JD's gaze lifted, meeting the smirking face of Liam.
The man cocked his head, that rugged country-boy charm dripping from his expression.
"Get in."
JD rolled his tongue inside his mouth, hesitating.
Should he?
Liam's smirk deepened sensing his hesitation. "Scared?"
JD narrowed his eyes.
Damn him.
Wordlessly, he stepped inside the truck.