Chasing Forever, page 9
“Aunt Lottie says she won’t ride the Zipper with me. Will you?”
I glance at the car. Lottie’s sitting in the driver’s seat with that smug-ass smirk as if she just dropped a royal flush over my straight flush at the poker table.
I crook my finger at her.
She shakes her head.
Fine.
I look down at Wren. “I’ll be right there. Can you ask Aunt Lottie to come talk to me real quick?”
Wren frowns but nods and bolts back toward the car. She and Lottie talk for maybe ten seconds before Wren climbs into the back seat, and Lottie gets out. Her body’s all stiff lines and tight shoulders, showing she’s clearly not thrilled to be here.
Mack strolls over and nudges at Lottie’s hand. She pets him automatically. Doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, I don’t think.
“What?” she bites out through clenched teeth when she joins me at the door.
I was going to say something about her bringing Wren, about how she clearly doesn’t want to be alone with me—but when she stepped out of the car, that plan flew out the window. Her hair’s a little wind-blown, cheeks flushed. She looks beautiful. And pissed. My favorite combo.
“Where are my flowers?” I ask.
She blinks. “Flowers?”
“You wanted to plan this date, and I’m not feeling very wooed.” I lean on the doorframe, arms crossed.
“This is a check-the-box date, and you know it.”
“Nope. They’re real dates. Not ones where you honk like a taxi and expect me to come running.”
She turns her head and stares at my barn as if she’d rather go figure out what’s wrong with the truck in there than keep this conversation going. “Are we going or not?”
I grab my keys, get Mack back inside, and shut the front door. “Next time I’d appreciate flowers. And you coming to the door.” I walk past her, down the steps.
She lets out a long-suffering sigh while I grin to myself.
“How do you feel about the fair with Wren?” she calls out, a little hopeful, a little hesitant, as though she thinks this might stop me in my tracks.
“Sounds like fun.” I stop outside the car’s passenger door, waiting.
She doesn’t look over.
I clear my throat.
Her hand freezes on her door handle. Her eyes lift and meet mine across the top of the SUV. “Seriously?”
“Deadly.”
She mutters something under her breath that I’m pretty sure isn’t flattering. Then, to my surprise, she walks around the front of the car and opens my door. “Satisfied?”
“Immensely.” I slide into her car, already missing my truck. I practically have to fold myself into this thing.
Lottie slams the door and walks around the front of the SUV while I chuckle.
“Why does Aunt Lottie look so mad?” Wren asks from the back seat, all innocence and big eyes, already strapped into her booster.
“She’s just annoyed. She’ll get over it when we get to the fair.” I twist to face her. “We have one mission tonight, Wren. And I need a partner.”
She leans forward, her curiosity fully engaged.
“We’re getting Aunt Lottie on the Zipper.”
Her back hits her seat, and she shakes her head. “Aunt Lottie doesn’t like the Zipper.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Lottie puts her hand on the door handle.
“Because sometimes,” I say, keeping my eyes on Wren, “you gotta face your fears to get what you really want.”
Wren wrinkles her nose, and Lottie climbs in with us.
“I wish Mack could come,” Wren mutters.
That’s a seven-year-old’s version of changing the subject, I guess.
“Then one of us wouldn’t be able to go on the rides because we’d have to stay with him,” I say.
Lottie puts the car in reverse. “Ready?”
“Yes!” Wren throws her hands in the air as if we’re about to go down the first hill on a rollercoaster.
Lottie glances at me. Our gazes lock, and I smile.
She rolls her eyes as she always does in my presence.
She thinks she’s sabotaging these dates.
She has no idea.
She could bring her whole family and I wouldn’t care.
As long as she’s next to me?
It’s a damn good night.
Chapter Seventeen
Lottie
When I came up with the brilliant idea to bring Wren along, I imagined skipping through the fairgrounds. The two of us holding hands, smiling while Brooks trailed behind us like our unpaid babysitter. He’d fetch us snacks and drinks. I’d dodge him all night and call it a win.
Instead, I’m the freaking third wheel.
Wren grabs Brooks’s hand while I’m buying the ride tickets. Of course she does. Because he’s steady. Because she trusts him. Because he’s… him. She’s begging him to take her on the Zipper while he tells her they need to “warm up to it.”
“Okay, we’re all set,” I say, holding up the ridiculous fistful of ride tickets as if I just won a game at an arcade and I’m about to turn them in for the top prize everyone wants.
“Let’s go!” Wren tugs on Brooks’s hand.
He shrugs at me with that lopsided grin. “What can I say? I’m a fun guy.” Then he turns his back to me and something inside me twists.
Which is stupid. Why would I be jealous? This was my plan. I was the one who brought a mini chaperone to sabotage this date.
I follow them through the fairgrounds like the forgotten child. Just slap a balloon in my hand and call it a night.
The fair is buzzing. String lights stretch over the walkways, casting a golden glow on everything below. The smell of fried dough, kettle corn, and junk food hangs thick in the air. A distant country song hums from the speakers, challenging the laughter and rise and fall of screams emanating from the rides.
It should feel magical. But tonight, it feels like background noise to the weird ache crawling under my skin.
We stop in front of the Ferris wheel. They hop in the first car together, and I wave them off as if I’ve mastered being content riding by myself.
I sit solo in the next car, the breeze cool as it rises higher, lifting me above the small town. The view is stunning—sunset dripping pink and purple across the open skies of Hickory. It steals my breath for a second, and I let my mind drift.
There was a time I couldn’t wait to leave this place. Now, I can’t imagine growing old anywhere but here. Watching my cousins and eventually my nieces and nephews grow up, fall in love, get married, have babies. This is my home. But back then? I would’ve scoffed at this fair and said I was meant for bigger things.
I think about that girl. The one who wanted out. The one who believed the world owed her something bigger and better than this place. I don’t miss her exactly, but I wonder when she stopped being me. Without Holden, would I have become who I am now?
The ride slows. Stop by stop, we lower until I’m finally back on solid ground. My feet barely hit the pavement before Wren comes bounding toward me.
“Did you see the sunset?”
I ruffle her hair. “I did. So beautiful.”
“Brooks said that it’s because of the light and the atmosphere, right?” She looks at him with wide eyes as if he invented science.
“Something like that,” he says with a deep chuckle.
“Giving her science lessons?”
He shrugs, and there’s a tiny flicker of embarrassment in his expression, as though maybe it really matters to him—like maybe he looked it up once just because he was curious.
“It just interests me,” he says softly, as if he’s confessing a secret.
“Always?”
“Ah…” His voice tapers off, his shyness lingering.
I lean in as if he’s offering me a secret. Just like that, I want to know more.
“Come on, there’s no line at the Tilt-A-Whirl!” Wren grabs our hands and tugs us forward.
I hand over the tickets to the guy running the ride and immediately notice the full body scan he gives me, not even trying to hide it.
Gross. A shiver creeps down my spine.
Wren’s already on the ride, but Brooks pauses, wrapping his arm around the small of my back, leading me over to her. He even looks over his shoulder. The way his strong hand hovers over my hip, his fingertips barely touching, makes me feel as if he’s claiming me in front of that creep checking me out. And I hate how much I like it. Hate that it makes me feel safe and secure.
We cram into the arched cab, Wren in the middle. She takes my hand, then Brooks’s, and stacks them together with hers on top. “I’m having so much fun.” She beams.
Her joy is magnetic.
I look at my brilliant, brave, and resilient niece who doesn’t even realize what an inspiration she is. She’s already faced so much in her seven years—mourning a mother she never got to know, pushing through questions no kid should have to ask. Still, she loves without fear of the outcome.
How? How does she still believe in love and joy when one of the most important people in her life vanished?
I envy it. I envy her.
Brooks’s smile is stupidly contagious. “Me too. Great plan, Lottie.”
I try to smile back, but it doesn’t fully land. The ride hasn’t even started, but the drop in my chest is already happening. Holden. The wreckage he left in me is still so mangled. I need to be brave like my niece to crawl my way out.
“Yeah, Aunt Lottie, thank you.” Wren throws herself against me, and I hug her close, squeezing my eyes shut and soaking her in.
When I open my eyes, Brooks is watching us.
Not smiling. Just… watching. As though he sees beneath my layers and knows what hides there.
The ride lurches to a start, and we’re thrown into chaos. Wren shrieks with laughter. Brooks leans his weight to get us spinning faster while I cling to the bar and pray I don’t hurl.
For a blissful hour, we jump from ride to ride. Brooks and Wren are a duo, and I trail behind. I wanted distance. I wanted control. Now I’m the third wheel to my own damn plan.
The ache in my chest intensifies because he’s so good with her.
Brooks tosses popcorn kernels at her and cheers when she finally catches one. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he says, giving her a high five.
The sight thuds against my ribs in a warning. He’ll be a great father one day.
“Giddy-up, horsey!” Wren squeals, kicking his side now that she’s on his back. “To the Zipper!” Her hand goes up like a general leading the charge into war.
Brooks slows his walk with her cradled on his back and looks at me. “Ready?”
“For?”
“The Zipper. Last ride of the night.”
I look at the remaining tickets in my hand. Yep. Enough for all three of us.
“Why don’t you two go?” I offer. “I’ll just hit the Ferris wheel again.”
Brooks stares at me with a look so intense, I almost crumple. It’s the kind of look that says he knows I’m not fine, and he hates that I won’t say it out loud.
“Kayla!” Wren screeches, nearly tumbling off Brooks’s back onto the ground.
“Who’s Kayla?” I ask as I help her down.
“My friend from school!” The second her feet hit the ground, she sprints toward another little girl as if they’ve been separated for six years instead of six hours.
Brooks and I catch up, and I smile politely at Kayla’s parents. “Hi, I’m Wren’s aunt, Lottie. And this is—”
“Sheriff Watson,” the man says, shaking Brooks’s hand. The woman shakes mine, then we swap.
Of course they know him. Everyone does.
“How are you liking Willowbrook?” Brooks asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. He gives me a drawn-out stare with a meaning I don’t catch. “The Millers just moved to Willowbrook.” His tone says I should be cluing into something by now, but I’m not.
“Greg Miller.” The man raises his hand. “Mayor Watson’s opponent.”
“Oh… ohhhh, of course.” I nod.
The guy running against Brooks’s dad.
This is awkward.
I plaster on a smile, debating on whether telling him “Good luck, I hope you win” is wildly inappropriate.
Before I can decide, Wren tugs on my arm. “Can I go with Kayla? They’re heading to the big slide.”
“Um…” I look at Brooks, and he nods as though it’s okay, they’re good people. “We can go too.”
“After the Zipper.” Brooks steps closer, his arm brushing mine. I ignore the way my body hums in satisfaction.
“No way.”
He arches a brow. I don’t want to get into a back-and-forth in front of someone who could be the next mayor.
Wren begs while Kayla’s eyes look hopeful.
Finally, I give up the fight. “Are you okay if she joins you?”
“Well, I didn’t want to go down the slide.” Samantha laughs. “Greg will walk them up and go down.”
I tear off the tickets Wren needs and hand them to her. “You stay with them, okay? We’ll be right over.”
Wren thanks me, and we tell the Millers we’ll meet them over there. Wren and Kayla fall into a fit of giggles about somebody at school who Kayla already saw here at the fair, and the parents follow them toward the slide.
Brooks turns to me. “You afraid?”
I ignore his question and pose one of my own. “You’re talking to your dad’s enemy?”
“I’m not talking about my dad tonight.” He nods toward the Zipper.
“I don’t ride the Zipper.”
“You can throw up on me.”
And just like that, he’s in line… we’re in line.
My stomach is in knots. “I haven’t ridden this since the eighth grade.”
“I’m aware.”
“I don’t like this ride.” I bite my lip and stare at the cages whipping and flipping over.
Three boys turn around in front of us. They’re maybe twelve or thirteen years old, all long limbs, bony elbows, and false bravado. The tall and wiry redhead appears to be the ringleader. His grin is so smug I loathe him before he even says anything.
“You’re a chicken?” he asks, loud enough for everyone in line to hear.
“No,” I answer evenly, standing taller.
“Then why not ride the best ride here?” His tone is taunting, as though he’s on the verge of clucking at me.
My eyes narrow. “I don’t have a death wish.”
The blond kid with braces who is clearly just trying to be like the redhead, snickers behind the redhead’s shoulder. The third boy with darker hair and a freckled face lingers just away from his friends. His gaze shifts from me to Brooks, then down to the ground. Definitely the smart one who doesn’t want to get involved in stupid antics like his friends.
They all laugh, but it’s the redhead who keeps going. He elbows Braces and says, way too loudly, “Guess the sheriff’s dating a wimp.”
“We’re not dating,” I snap before I mentally reprimand myself for engaging this kid.
The redhead smirks, completely unfazed. “Probably regrets wasting his ticket on you.”
The brown-haired one diverts his attention. Braces just stares then laughs, a second behind on the insult.
Brooks steps forward, his voice low and stern, instantly commanding. “Watch it. I bite back harder than she does.”
The boys straighten. Even the redhead blinks at Brooks’s sheriff voice.
And, okay… yeah, that voice does something to me that I don’t have time to unpack.
The kids shuffle toward the front of the line, but just before they hand over their tickets, the redhead twists around, eyes gleaming. “Come on, scaredy-cat!” he yells before running into the caged ride.
My whole body flinches.
I see the Ferris wheel in my head again, the sunset, the calm. The version of me from the past who didn’t let fear decide everything. Without another word, I hand my ticket to the guy at the gate.
I climb beside Brooks, heart hammering. The guy slams the cage door shut and slides the lock over. Is this what people feel like when they’re put in jail?
Panic claws at my chest, a beast demanding escape.
I want to scream. I want to bang on the bars. I want to beg to be let off.
Instead, I stand there frozen, swallowing down my fear.
“You don’t have to prove anything to those boys,” Brooks whispers, his arm brushing mine, our pinkies so close on the bar, we could link them.
I want to reach for him. I want to curl into the safety he’s offering. But I don’t.
“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.
