“Don’t tell me you’ve never gone to a carnival before.” He returns his change to his wallet, then places his hand on my back, steering me into line behind Imogene and Julia. “Or is that not something a preacher’s daughter does?”
“I’ve been to carnivals. When I was younger. When I didn’t realize how unsafe these things are.”
He smirks, acting as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. As if we’re not about to get on a treacherous carnival ride and pray we don’t plummet dozens of feet to our death.
“True, but if we do die, at least we’ll have a good death story.”
“I’d rather have an interesting life story. Like, here lies Londyn Bennett. She died at the ripe ol’ age of 108. She attributed her longevity to a daily dose of bad reality television, an overabundance of carbs, and not riding on rickety-ass carnival rides.”
His eyes light up in amusement. Then he leans into the crook of my neck. I go still, barely breathing, his proximity enthralling, exhilarating, and so wanted, yet equally petrifying at the same time.
“Come on, Lo. Live a little.”
A shiver trickles down my spine, my limbs weakening. How can I tell him no when my childhood nickname on his tongue sounds so satisfying? So pleasing? So captivating?
“Okay,” I whimper.
“That’s my girl.”
I don’t even have to look at him to see the smile crossing his mouth, able to hear it in his voice.
“Let’s go.” He tugs me forward, and I snap out of the spell his words and proximity had cast over me.
When I see we’re at the front of the line, a chill envelopes me, my stomach roiling. I’d hoped to have a few more minutes to mentally prepare myself, but I barely even have a few seconds, my anxiety increasing as Wes hands our tickets to a bearded man working this wheel of doom.
Imogene waves excitedly from their carriage as Wes leads me toward the one directly behind them, the safety bar dangling open. She’s only six, yet doesn’t seem to be scared. If she can be fearless, so can I. At least that’s what I tell myself as I allow the carnival worker to lock Wes and me inside.
I face forward, not looking up or down, and blow out a breath. When we lurch forward, I clutch the bar in a vice-like grip, my knuckles turning white.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I mutter under my breath as the ground moves beneath us. Thankfully, we come to a hard stop just a few seconds later.
“I never would have pegged you for someone who was scared of heights.” Wes chuckles. “Not after seeing you jump up and down ladders like a damn trapeze artist these past few weeks.”
“I’m not scared of heights.” I loosen my hold to flex the stiff muscles in my fingers. “Just falling from heights because of some completely preventable malfunction.”
“You won’t fall.” He fixes me with a serious look.
“You can’t guarantee that.”
He shrugs. “You’re right. I can’t.”
“Way to make me feel good about this decision.” I laugh nervously, doing my best to focus straight ahead and not down. We’re probably only ten feet off the ground, but as far as I’m concerned, it may as well be ten miles.
“I do what I can.”
When we begin moving once more, I instinctively grab onto his hand, squeezing.
“Damn, Londyn. You’re going to break my fingers if you keep that up.”
I shoot him a glare. “You deserve it for dragging me onto this death trap.” When we stop a few seconds later, I relax my grip, smiling to myself when he shakes out his hand with a wince. “And you can call me Lo if you want. That’s what my mom called me.”
He shifts toward me the best he can when trapped in this tiny, open-air bucket. “What was she like?”
I stare into space, imagining her smile as she sang to me. “Beautiful. She had the most amazing voice.”
“She was a singer?”
I nod. “Not professionally, but she could have been. She was always smiling. And her laugh…” I sigh, remembering her vivacious laughter that filled our home every day. “We didn’t have a huge house, and there were some months I could tell money was tight, but I never doubted her love for me.”
I can sense Wes’ hesitation before he asks his next question. “What happened to her? You’d mentioned she died when you were young.”
I don’t say anything right away, torn. For years, I’ve barricaded myself behind a