“I bought you the same package,” he says. “You can decide if you wanna go with her or on your own. Didn’t want her to know in case you didn’t wanna go with her.”
“Why wouldn’t I wanna go with her?” I ask. “I love hanging out with my mom!”
“Okay, okay. I just wanted the choice to be yours is all.” His hand flexes around mine and now our fingers are weaving together. “You and her have had some tension. You’ve snapped at her a couple times, so just wanted you to have a choice is all. I’ll email the package details to you, and you can book it when you’re ready.”
I feel guilty because I have been snappy with Mom. I’ve been snapping at just about everyone. No wonder he said I’m not the Bailey he knows. I sure don’t feel like themeI know.
His hand is soft, warm, and there’s heat creeping up my body in slow motion from my toes to my ears. I hear a not faraway-soundingwhinethat makes confusion float through all my cells.
He holds my hand for the whole drive. And eventually, my shoulders relax. Thoughts and memories float through a lazy river in my mind with all sorts of good stuff I have stored about Jason Creed. Excitement bubbles up when we finally pull down a dirt road with a dead end. I can smell the fried dough and happiness from here.
***
He watches me dip my corndog in the ketchup and mustard sauce with amusement in his eyes.
“I saw you do this when I was about six. I did it this way from then on,” I admit.
He smiles wide and then dips his corndog in my sauce.
“Hey!” I fake-complain.
Happiness dances in his eyes.
After we’ve eaten, we walk around with him holding my hand, my other hand holding my tall lemonade, which he casually leans over to sip from each time it leaves my mouth. And the way he does it… there’s sensuality oozing from his eyes.
“Let’s do the Ferris wheel,” Jase suggests, walking us up to a ride ticket booth.
I look up at it and gulp down a swallow.
“I don’t like heights, Jase.”
“It’s just a little one,” he reasons, buying some tickets.
“It’s too high,” I mutter.
“It’ll be okay, Bay.”
It’s dark and the place is lit up now. It’s not a very big carnival, but it’s still crawling with people and that feeling in the air that I love. There’s laughter around us, music, and the scents and the lights all add to the vibe.
Before I manage to voice further objection, I’m being divested of my lemonade, which he drains before dropping it in the trash and ushering me through the turnstile.
“I don’t…” I start to object, but I’m quickly ushered into a gondola.
Jase’s arm goes around me and way too soon, we’re climbing toward the top.
“Ugh, I hate this,” I mutter, turning my head into his body so I don’t have to look.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he says, adding, “promise,” while pressing his lips to my temple.
“I don’t like being made to do what I’m afraid of,” I tell him. “I’m a scaredy cat. And I hate heights.”
“Sorry. I thought it’d be fun.”
“It’s not,” I say.
And climbing up higher before descending, my belly wobbles and not with nausea that’d usually come from a ride like this. My belly is wobbling because Jase is snuggling me into him, his scent filling my lungs.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “It’ll be over soon. I’ve got you. I promise.”