Jackandjill Lavynder Rain Exclusive Link

But the petals were soft, and the rain was endless, and Jill’s hands were growing numb. She felt herself sliding, her own feet skidding on the fragrant carpet.

He lost his footing on the petal-slick stone. He tumbled—not down the hill, but into the well. Jill lunged, caught his wrist. For a moment, she held him, his knuckles white in her grip. The lavender rain clung to their hair, their lashes, their lips. jackandjill lavynder rain

Together, they plunged into the darkness. But the well had no water at the bottom. It had only lavender—a deep, dry, rustling sea of petals that broke their fall. They lay there, breathless, buried to their chins in purple, staring up at a circular sky still weeping blossoms. But the petals were soft, and the rain

Jack’s broken watch was ticking again. Jill’s childhood scar had faded. And neither of them could remember the name of the person who had broken Jill’s heart the winter before. He tumbled—not down the hill, but into the well

“It’s going to rain,” Jill said, sniffing the air. The sky was the color of a bruise, and the wind carried the scent of wet earth and something sharper—electric, like the moment before a storm breaks.

“We’re going to be late for supper,” Jack said, after a long while.

Jill laughed—a startled, petal-muffled sound. She reached over and took his hand.