Page 51 of Fairground

“Um… he’s not here tonight, is he?” I ask, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

Her brows knit together, and her eyes narrow like she’s trying to figure out why I would be asking that.

Yeah, so much for subtlety.

“No… is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, totally fine. Totally.” My voice pitches slightly, and I know I’m not convincing her or anyone else who’s listening.

She studies me for a moment longer before tugging on my arm and dragging me inside. “Come on. Let’s go see the littles. I have just the one to pair you with.”

***

Thirty minutes and five rounds ofThe Game of Lifelater, I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, losing for the fifth time to the eleven-year-old that Lydia thought would be ‘perfect’ for my first volunteer event.

The little girl smirks triumphantly as she glances at my overstuffed car full of tiny pink and blue people.

“You’ve had, like, seven babies. They're stacked on top off each other. No wonder you’re losing. Kids are expensive.”

I laugh. “What do you know about that?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I read stuff. Did you know that parents spend roughly three thousand dollars on diapers in the first two years of a baby’s life.”

I raise a brow. And now I’m wondering—what exactly is this eleven-year-old reading for fun? Before I can ask for more details, her eyes light up, and she bolts from her spot, sprinting toward someone behind me.

I spin around, and there he is. Colt Marshall. The youngest of the infamous Marshall family.

His massive frame barrels forward like a freaking monster truck, and Jenni—my childnemesisfor the night—throws her arms around his waist because that’s as high as she can reach. He chuckles, the sound deep and warm, as a wide smile spreads across his handsome face. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile, and it’s... disarming.

Then another figure steps out from behind him—a woman, a couple inches taller than me, thin with curves in all the right places, and jet-black hair that falls straight down her back. When her eyes meet mine, a chill races through me. They’re so freaking blue. Like the Gulf of Mexico. The shade of them is unsettling.

Spooky.

My immediate conclusion? If just her eyes can spook me that badly, I have no choice but to make her my friend because I love spooky things.

“Hi. You must be Rae,” she says warmly, stepping forward in her cool cargo pants and simple white t-shirt, flashing an easy smile. “I’m Molly Marshall. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with a smile, though she barely gets the words out before she pulls me into a hug like we’re long-lost friends instead of complete strangers.

A week ago, I would’ve stiffened, awkwardly patted her back, and made a mental note to avoid future encounters at all costs. But now? After surviving the chaos of county fair prepand finally settling into the rhythm of Whitewood Creek, I find myself leaning into it. Just a little bit. Because this is what people do here. They hug without hesitation. They offer warmth before they know if you’re a serial killer. And, surprisingly, I don’t hate it.

Plus, she smells good, like cinnamon and pumpkin, and despite me knowing that she's an officer of the law, I get the feeling being married to an ex-felon means she's also cool as shit.

“Hey,” Colt grunts, skipping the pleasantries of a hug and extending a fist instead. I bump it, grateful for the need to not show any more physical affection. Between Molly and Lydia, I'm tapped out for the night and would be okay with no one else touching me.

Jenni’s tucked under one of Colt’s big arms protectively, grinning at him like he hung the moon and that’s when I realize why they’re here.

“Are you Jenni’s usual Bigs? She mentioned that a couple usually comes for Wednesday nights to play games with her.” I glance between him and Molly.

Molly smiles warmly. “As much as we can be, yeah. We try to make it down here as often as possible to hang with Jenni.”

Jenni practically glows under their attention, her grin wide enough to light up the room. It’s obvious these three have some history and watching Colt soften like this is fascinating. He’s like a human wall most of the time, big, scary, and quiet, but around Jenni? There’s a story there. One I’d bet good money on.

“She kicked my ass,” I stage-whisper, pointing toward theGame of Lifeboard that’s behind us.

Colt smirks, shaking his head. “That’s the initiation fee for joining the Boys & Girls Club.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely seeing that now.”

“Hey,” Molly cuts in, wrapping a protective arm around Jenni’s shoulder. “You want to go grab some soda and pizza with me? Maybe the soda won’t be flat this time.”

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