Page 60 of Hard Rock Deceit
"It used to be," I teased. "But now I'm starting to see the appeal of the rockstartype."
"And who is this rock star who's caught your eye? Do I need to fight someone for youraffections?"
"You don't need to fight anyone. All my affection belongstoyou."
Embarrassed at how sappy I'd sounded, I scrambled off the horse before August couldreply.
"I bet there's a ferris wheel," I deflected. "I've always wanted toclimbone."
"Have you got a death wish?" He hopped off the horse easily. He would have made a good cowboy. "First rickety, rusting fire escapes, and now this. I don't want to see you fall and crack yourheadopen."
"Look who's talking," I replied withoutthinking.
August wentsilent.
"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I didn't mean to bringitup."
"No. You're right. I'm lucky I didn't hurt myself worse than I did whenIfell."
When he overdosedwas more accurate, but I didn't say itoutloud.
Some of the anger I'd felt before began to resurface. I pushed it back. Getting mad wouldn't helpanyone.
I went to August and brought my arms up aroundhisneck.
"I know how hard this must be," I said. "Trying to stayclean—"
"I'm not an addict." He repeated the words he'd said in thehospital.
That was exactly what an addict would say. Again, I kept mytongue.
"Still. I know that playing every night must aggravate your shoulder. I'm proud of you for sticking to yourpromise."
He pressed a kiss tomylips.
"You want to check out the ferris wheel?" he asked. "It looks like there's one overthere."
We held hands as we made our way through the park, exploring nooks and crannies, taking photos of both the run-down rides and eachother.
When we reached the ferris wheel I immediately slung the camera around my neck and climbed into the bottom mostcarriage.
"Hop in,"Isaid.
August lookeddoubtful.
"It's not going to fall apart on us," Iadded.
"You sure?" he muttered, but followed me into the carriage, taking a seat nexttome.
I took shots from every direction, focusing on the criss-crossing metal bars of the ferris wheel's structure above my head. It had a wonderful sort of geometrytoit.
I turned the camera to August. He was rotating his shoulder slightly, as if working out a pulledmuscle.
"Does it still hurt?" I asked,concerned.
"Not allthetime."
"Does ithurtnow?"
