Page 43 of Chasing Forever
“I’m not doing it for them.” That’s all he needs to know.
The ride lurches upward, and my stomach freefalls.
“I’m right here,” he says softly just as the Zipper flips—and I scream.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t listen to that naïve girl from so many years ago.
Chapter Eighteen
Brooks
The Zipper cage flips over and over, and all I hear are Lottie’s squeals. They’re a mix of thrill and panic as if she can’t decide if she loves or hates the ride. There’s profanity, and my balls are threatened a half dozen times, but when the guy opens the cage and Lottie’s feet hit the ground, her smile is brighter than the neon signs scattered around us.
She’s happy. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s adrenaline still buzzing through her veins, or maybe it’s because she let herself go for once—but her knee hasn’t made contact with my balls, so all in all, I call it a win.
I guide her away from the ride, nudging her gently forward and keeping my hand at the small of her back, not ready to lose the excuse to touch her.
She’s still catching her breath when the red-haired kid from earlier sprints around us and sticks his head in a trash can to throw up. We both laugh. It hits me how easy this thing between us is when she lets down her walls. Lottie sinks into my side, her contagious laughter continuing on and on.
Without thinking, I wrap my arm around her, holding her close as the red-haired kid’s friends glance over. The blond one with braces flips us off, while the brown-haired boy smiles a little before checking on his friend.
“Karma,” Lottie says.
“Definitely.”
My chest feels light, and for a moment, I see so clearly the couple we could be someday. That’s if she’ll crack open the gate enough for me to slip past the defenses she locks so tightly. If she could see what I see right now, I know she’d let them down.
This moment alone feels like a crack in her armor. Her laughter, her warmth pressed against me. Hell, it’s all a good sign.
“Let’s go get Wren. I told Bennett I’d have her home by ten,” she says.
I check my watch. It’s nine forty. There’s no way we’re making it, but I keep that to myself.
Wren sits at a picnic table near the big slide, a cloud of pink cotton candy in her hand, laughing with Kayla. The Millers stand nearby, sharing a funnel cake, and I can feel the weight of Lottie’s glance. She’s wondering how I know them. Of course she is. What kind of relationship do I have with the new guy in town who’s running against my dad?
I haven’t asked why Greg Miller wants to run a town he’s got no real ties to, but he might just have my vote. That part I’ll keep to myself.
“Did you have fun?” Lottie runs her hand down her niece’s hair.
“The bump was so fun. They got me cotton candy.” She lifts the stick in the air—and from the look of her face, I’m not sure any actually made it into her mouth.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Samantha approaches, and Lottie waves her off.
“I’m the aunt, so those pesky parent rules don’t apply to me.”
Samantha laughs. “And what about the uncle?” she asks, eyeing me.
Lottie’s quick to reject the idea, but I raise my eyebrows as if to say, technically, I am Wren’s uncle through marriage.
“I was just dragged here. I have no say.” I play it cool, though I’d give anything for a permanent label when it comes to both Lottie and Wren.
Greg chuckles and taps his daughter’s shoulder. “We need to get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”
Kayla rolls her eyes. “Dad, it’s her carriage that turns into a pumpkin.” She looks at Wren like, Can you believe my dad?
Wren agrees, though she looks a little lost, watching Kayla sass her dad.
“Okay, you grown-up teenager, let’s go. It’s bedtime. Is that better?” Greg says.
