Page 103 of The Assist
I laugh and set her down carefully, hands lingering on her waist. The urge to kiss her almost drowns me. But we’re in public. And despite the freedom, some habits are too ingrained to break.
Instead, I tug her tighter against me and bury my face in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re dangerous,” I murmur.
She tips her head back to look at me, all mischief and challenge. “You love it.”
“I do,” I admit, my voice sounds rough.
I’ve fallen so fast for her it’s not even funny.
We eat greasy fish and chips on a battered wooden bench overlooking the water, our fingers brushing when we steal fries off each other’s trays.
Mia’s tucking into mushy peas. I make dramatic gagging noises whenever she dips a chip into the neon green mess.
“You’re such a child,” she says, laughing.
“And you’re a weirdo. Who the hell invented that shit?” I shoot back.
She grins, scrunching her nose, and my chest fucking aches with how much I adore her. How much I want this, not just today but every day.
When she’s finished devouring the devil’s spawn that is mushy peas, we wander to the fun fair. It’s run down but colourful, all flashing lights and tinny music, and there’s kids running wild with candyfloss stuck to their fingers.
Mia drags me to a game stall where you have to knock over stacked cans with beanbags. She tries first, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. She misses every shot and I bite my lip, trying not to laugh.
“Stop looking at my form,” she grumbles.
“Hard not to,” I mutter under my breath.
She rolls her eyes, and her cheeks pink. I pay for another go and step up. The guy running the stall raises an unimpressed eyebrow at me. But I line up my shot and smash all the cans in one throw.
“Show off,” Mia says, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“All for you, baby,” I say, handing her the ridiculous giant pink unicorn I won.
She laughs so hard she nearly drops it. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Nope,” I say smugly. We keep strolling, hand in hand, her new prize tucked under her arm. And for a little while, it’s like nothing else exists. There’s no pressure or rules to follow, and no future looming like a dark storm cloud. It’s just her and me. Justus.
We’re waiting in line for candyfloss when it happens. A little boy, maybe eight or nine, tugs on my hoodie.
“Are you Diesel Winters?” he asks timidly.
I glance down, startled and Mia tenses beside me. I crouch a little, smiling. “Yeah, mate, I am. Are you a hockey fan?”
The kid’s eyes go huge. “You’re my favourite player!”
My throat tightens and I ruffle his hair gently. There’s nothing more humbling than someone telling you they admire you. “Thanks, bud. You want a picture?”
He nods frantically. His mum snaps a quick photo of us, and she can’t thank me enough for taking the time to pose with her son. Mia steps back, giving us space.
When the kid beams and runs off, Mia sidles back to me, slipping her hand into mine.
“You’re good with them,” she says quietly.
“With what?” I say, confused.
“Kids.”
Her voice is soft. Almost wondering.
