6. Max
CHAPTER SIX
Max
The Summer Festival looks nothing like it did this afternoon when it was a maze of partially built booths and tangled extension cords.
Now it’s filled with striped awnings, glowing strings of carnival bulbs, children trailing balloons, and couples strolling past with cones of melting ice cream.
Live music drifts from the main stage, weaving through the mechanical whir and clank of the rides.
Beyond it all, the ocean reflects the last streaks of sunset, waves rolling toward the shore in peaks and valleys of orange and violet.
My fox presses against my ribcage as anxious and nervous as I am as we wait for Lila just inside the festival entrance.
Maybe she changed her mind.
The possibility drops into my stomach like lead.
I scan the crowd again.
Townspeople stream past me carrying paper cones of kettle corn and clouds of cotton candy. More than a few faces are familiar now. Judith waves from the refreshment tent. One of the firefighters from yesterday’s volleyball game calls, “Lark!” and lifts his corn dog in greeting.
I return their smiles and waves without thinking.
The ease of it catches me off guard. Somewhere in the past two weeks, these people stopped feeling like strangers.
But there’s still no sign of Lila.
Find her.
“I’m not tracking her through town.”
We could—
Near the entrance, the crowd parts with the slow-motion grace of the early-2000s romantic comedies Gran and Emme love. The band onstage hits a soaring chord at exactly the right moment, and a roaming spotlight from the spinning Sea Serpent sweeps across the midway before landing on Lila.
It’s so perfectly choreographed, I almost expect opening credits to appear above her head.
I swear I’m having a cardiovascular episode as my gaze traces her.
White shorts hug her soft hips and the plump curve of her ass.
A coral crop reveals a narrow strip of soft stomach.
The neckline leaves her shoulders bare, the fabric dipping low enough to show the upper swells of her breasts.
Half of her golden hair is twisted into two buns on top of her head.
The rest falls in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Lila Hart is every good thing about summer brought to life.
Mate. My fox coils around my heart. Ours.
She spots me, and her round face brightens as she closes the distance between us and stops. “Hi.”
“Hi.” My mouth is dry, and my brain has emptied of all thoughts except for Lila. She tends to do this to me.
A sunshine-yellow canvas tote covered in enamel pins hangs from one shoulder, and she adjusts it as her gaze moves over me.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time choosing between three nearly identical shirts. I finally settled on a dark green short-sleeved button-down and shorts, then changed my shoes twice before telling myself to get a grip.
Judging by the way Lila’s attention catches on the open buttons at my collar, the effort wasn’t entirely wasted.
“You’re wearing a shirt,” she says with a grin.
“I own several.”
“I was beginning to wonder.”
Her gaze drops to my chest again, and heat builds beneath my skin.
The sweet vanilla scent of her interest wraps around me, and my fox nearly howls.
I want to touch her.
I want to put my hand at the curve of her waist and feel her lean into me. I want to know whether the skin beneath the hem of her shirt is as soft as it looks.
Instead, I hold up the strip of ride tickets I bought.
“What would you like to do first?” I ask before my fox convinces me to bury my face in her neck in the middle of the Summer Festival.
Lila surveys the festival. “The ring toss is tempting. I hear it was assembled by an extremely dedicated public servant.”
“I’ve heard he’s also handsome and remarkably humble.”
Her attention moves over the rides, landing on the Ferris wheel at the far end of the midway.
Lila’s smile wavers, and her fingers tighten around the strap of her tote.
“Not a Ferris wheel person?” I ask, gazing up at the ride turning slowly against the darkening sky. Its gondolas hang in open metal frames, swaying gently as they look out over the ocean.
“I really don’t get why anyone would want to be suspended hundreds of feet in the air inside a swinging metal box.”
“Completely understandable point. But there’s something to facing your fears.
” I watch the wheel carry another gondola toward the top.
“You can stay on the ground where it’s safe, but then you never find out what might have been waiting for you up there.
Sometimes the things worth choosing are the ones that scare you most.”
Lila studies me. “That was…actually pretty profound.”
“I have my moments.”
She laughs, then bites her lower lip and eyes the Ferris wheel.
“I’ll protect you.” I hold out my hand. “I’ll even hold your hand if you’ll let me.”
A blush spreads over her cheeks. “I’d like that.”
She sets her hand in mine. When I curl my fingers around hers, she squeezes back.
My fox settles with a satisfied rumble. This is good.
Yeah. It is.
We join the line for the Ferris wheel. Lila keeps hold of my hand as we wind through the metal barriers, and I have to fight a smile every time her hip brushes my thigh.
We’re almost at the front when someone calls my name.
“Max!”
Lila tenses as I look toward the voice.
Candi Honeycutt pushes through the crowd in a pale pink dress that sparkles beneath the festival lights.
Last year’s Frosting Queen sash is draped across her chest, and the rhinestone tiara sits on her head.
For having only seen her a few times over the past couple weeks, she seems to wear her tiara a lot.
She lifts one hand and waves. “Save me a seat!”
Lila’s expression dims. She loosens her hold on me, hand slipping from mine.
I don’t like it.
Candi gestures for people to move as she works her way toward the ride. They do, although several look annoyed by the faint pink sparks dancing around her fingertips.
The father ahead of us reaches the loading gate with two little girls. One is wearing glittery cat ears, and the other is clutching a shark stuffy nearly as big as she is.
I tear the two tickets Lila and I need from my strip and hand the rest to him. “Would you mind letting us go ahead?”
He stares at the tickets—enough for the three of them to take at least four more rides.
“Seriously?”
“Please,” I say, pulling Lila closer.
Both girls bounce on their toes.
“Now we can ride the Sea Serpent!” Shark stuffy cheers.
“It’s like we got coupons!” Cat Ears adds. “Mom will be so excited.”
The father looks from them to me. “Absolutely. Go ahead.”
“Thank you.” I blow out a pent-up breath and guide Lila around them.
She glances back at the delighted girls, her smile returning. “They’re so happy. That was really sweet.”
I’d buy every person here ride tickets if it meant keeping that smile on her face.
I offer her my hand and help her inside. The gondola shifts beneath our combined weight, and she sucks in a breath.
“I’ve got you.”
Lila settles beside me, her soft thigh pressed against mine as I pull the metal bar across our laps. The attendant checks the latch just as Candi pushes her way through to the loading gate.
“Max, I said to save me a seat.”
“I did.” I slide one arm around Lila’s shoulders and pull her against my side. “For the woman I came here with.”
Candi’s mouth falls open.
The attendant releases the brake, and our gondola rises.
Lila turns toward me. “Did you just publicly choose me over Candi Honeycutt?”
“There was never a choice.”
Her breath catches, a fragile, disbelieving hope in her widened eyes. Then she blinks it away and hides behind a teasing smile.
“I don’t know about that, Lark. She has magick and excellent bone structure.”
“I have claws.” I shrug. “And I like your bone structure.”
Her laugh floats into the night as the gondola climbs higher. The festival turns into a glimmering patchwork of color beneath our feet, and the music blends with the steady rush of the ocean.
Lila grips the safety bar until her knuckles blanch.
“Hey.” I cover both her hands with one of mine. “Look at me.”
She drags her gaze away from the open air beneath us.
“You need a distraction?”
“Desperately.”
I gently peel her fingers from the metal and wrap her hands around mine. “Hold on to me instead.”
Her grip tightens around my bicep.
“I jumped out of a plane once,” I tell her.
Her head whips toward me. “Why?”
“Military family. My dad knows people.” I shrug. “Plus, I was eighteen and not very smart.”
She studies me. “You don’t seem like an adrenaline-junkie type.”
“I think I’m the still-figuring-myself-out type.”
“I get that.” She settles her cheek against my shoulder, and I have to suppress the purr that starts to vibrate in my chest. “Was your dad transferred a lot? Is that why you’ve moved around so much?”
“Both my parents were in the military.” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “Every few months, there was another house. Another school. Another group of people whose names I had to learn. My life became whatever I could fit in the least amount of boxes.”
The wheel inches its way to the top. The last orange light drains into the ocean, leaving a streak of brilliant pink burning across the horizon. It’s bright and joyful and reminds me of Lila. Hell, every good thing does.
She snuggles closer. “Is that why you haven’t unpacked? You’re waiting for the next move.”
There’s only understanding in her voice, which somehow makes the words squeeze around my heart.
Gran’s voice echoes through my head.
You aren’t your parents.
No one is transferring me anymore. There are no orders taped to the refrigerator or moving trucks waiting outside. Somewhere along the way, staying packed stopped being something forced upon me and became a habit. Its own kind of safety.
If I never settle in, leaving can’t hurt.
Except safety has become a trap. One I carry from town to town inside the same unopened boxes.
“You noticed the boxes,” I manage around the tightness in my throat.
“They clash with the couch.”