“I’m good with that, but only if we can split a funnel cake after,” she said. “My dad and I used to do that.”
Her voice drifted off like she’d slipped into a memory, and I could sense that I was about five seconds away from losing her to it. I didn’t want her to shut down.
“What was he like?” I asked.
She perked up at that, glancing at me surprised. “You want to know about my dad?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “And your mom, too. Nothing specific…just whatever you feel like sharing.”
Andi looked forward again, our hands still laced between us and her thumb tracing lazy circles against my knuckle. “He was a goof,” she said eventually. “He loved to joke and loved to make everything feel like an adventure.”
I smiled at that.
“My mom was fun, too, but a lot more focused. She made sure the bills were paid and that I ate real food and didn’t go to school looking like a feral child.” She let out a breath that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “And they loved each other. Like, really loved each other.” Her eyes met mine for a brief moment. “They kind of set the bar high.”
We kept walking, kept holding hands, passing a booth selling hand-dipped corn dogs and another with rows of neon-colored slushies. A family of four darted by with matching T-shirts and balloon animals.
“Was it just you and your parents?” I asked.
She nodded at that, a little wistful. “Yeah. My parents tried for more kids, but it never happened. It would have been nice to have a brother or a sister, though. Someone to ride life out with, ya know?” She leaned into me with a gentle nudge. “You’re lucky you have that.”
I chuckled. “I probably feel more annoyed than lucky most days.”
“Still,” she said, chuckling with me. “You guys stick together, and I love that.” She went quiet for a moment before adding, “It’s hard to picture someone walking away from what you all have.”
“Yeah, well, my dad managed to do it just fine.” My tone was casual, but my jaw had gone tight. “It’s weird how your mind tends to cling to the worst parts of a person and lets the rest fade out.” I paused and glanced down at our joined hands for a half a second. “Right now, I couldn’t tell you if he was a goof or if he ever had that kind of love for my mother like your dad had for your mom,” I said. “All I remember is that he left us when I wasfive. I was too young to fully understand what was going on, but old enough to realize I had to step up.”
She squeezed my hand. “That’s a lot for a five-year-old.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged half-heartedly. “Little me taking on big shoes.”
We came to a stop by the Ferris wheel, and she moved to stand in front of me, using her free hand to reach up and lightly trace her fingertip along the semi-permanent scowl line etched between my eyebrows. My breath stalled for a beat.
“You’re a good man, Zane McKade,” she said softly, gliding her fingertips down my neck and letting them settle in the soft dip at the base of my throat.
Her words caught me off guard, as did her touch, and for a second I just stared.
“But do you know what would make you abetter man?”
Amused curiosity lifted my mouth. “This oughta be good.”
Her bottom lip went between her teeth as she bounced on her toes, her excitement infectious as she tugged me toward the nearest game booth. I scanned over the game and the prizes curiously when my eyes landed on something ridiculous enough to make me pause. A mix of confusion and amusement twisted my lips.
She smiled up at me, eyes dancing with mischief. “Winning methat, cowboy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zane
Forty bucks later,and a shoulder that’d definitely hate me in the morning, Andi and I finally walked away from the world’s most rigged carnival game with a life-sized stuffed rooster—dressed in cowboy boots, a sheriff badge, and a ten-gallon hat that sat crooked over one glassy eye. I was sweaty, sore, and mildly offended by the amount of ego I had to sacrifice in front of the sixteen-year-old running the booth.
“That wassoworth it,” she said, beaming as she cradled the rooster under one arm.
“Gladyouthink so,” I grumbled, rotating my shoulder with a grimace. “I lasso steers for real, so you’d think I’d have some leverage nailing a damn plastic one spinning on a turntable from hell.”
She chuckled, lacing her fingers with mine and leaning into my side. “You mean real bulls don’t zigzagandspin in reverse at the same time?”
Her voice was light and teasing, but all I could think about was how perfectly she fit against me.
