He laughed. “You’re very dramatic.”
“Says the guy who bribed his coworker so we could kiss closer to the stars.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “You make me so swoony.” Then the wheel stopped. Right at the top. Baywood blinked below. Tiny lights. A humming lake. The world spun slower up here.
“We’ve got four minutes left,” Xaden whispered.
Then he kissed me. Soft, then firmer. Everything narrowed down to his hand on my jaw, his breath, the press of his lips.
It was unreal, insane, and so hot I wanted to be back in Pisgah.
I wanted to climb Xaden’s lap and kiss him until we blurred into one.
I wanted to tell him everything — that Pisgah hadn’t left my skin, that he had ruined me for anyone else before we even started dating.
But I just kissed him back instead.
***
Back then, the world stopped with us at the top. Now it keeps spinning, too fast, too loud, and all I can do is hold on.
Noah’s in the seat beside me, eyes wide, pointing and laughing. I smile with him, but my gaze drifts to the empty space on my other side. The seat feels too big without Xaden’s arm draped across the back. I can almost feel the ghost of his breath on my cheek, hear that low “hi” that still lives under my skin.
Below, music drifts up from the fairground speakers.Tragedy,by the Bee Gees. Apparently Baywood believes in disco trauma as a tradition.
Suddenly, a chill slides down my spine. Like someone’s eyes are on me.I shake it off. Then Noah points, and I see why.
“Sheriff is waving,” he says, happy and care-free.
I freeze.
Down on the ground, half-hidden by the cotton candy stand, Sheriff Willard leans against a lamppost, hat in his hands, looking like any other man killing time at the fair.
Only his eyes aren’t on the games or the rides.
They’re locked on us.
And he doesn’t look away.
XADEN
The phone buzzes in my back pocket, sharp and unexpected. When I glance at the screen, my stomach drops.Keller.He wouldn’t call unless it was serious.
My fingers feel stiff as I swipe to answer. “Yeah?”
“Bailey.” His voice is clipped, too calm to be anything but bad news.
Something in my chest tightens. “What’s wrong?”
“We sent our agent to Hudson’s house,” Keller says. “The house is empty.”
I blink. “Empty?”
“Completely. The door was unlocked — you might want to talk to him about that — but no one was home. No car outside.”
I force a breath. It’s fine. It’s normal. He takes Noah out. They go to the park, the library, wherever. Don’t lose it.
“They’re probably just out. The fair’s in town,” I say, trying to keep my tone level.
