Chapter 38 #4
“Hear me. I agree with what you did, petitioning for females to have a choice, because you’re right.
That patriarchy bullshit is archaic. It’s not fair to be forced to spend your life with someone you hate, someone who treats you bad.
I wish I could’ve spared Sher what she went through with that asshole.
I hate that my hands felt so tied that I didn’t stop it from happening, that I didn’t kill that fucker.
Me and Grey have talked at length about how the SCC tied our hands as well as something else, something unknown, unseen.
It sounds odd but the only thing that makes sense is that there was a reason for it.
I’ve been hoping it’d change my sister, help her find the good within herself.
But there’s none of that, Bay. She’s not good deep down.
She’s always been a bitter, spiteful, hateful person.
And Meadows was like karma for her. I hate that it’s true, but it is.
But now we’re being told that she can’t terminate which is no surprise.
Everything around here seems intentional, doesn’t it?
So that tells us this child they created must be why she was fated to him.
And maybe it’ll all make sense later. I fuckin’ wish I could go back and handle things differently with you, too.
And I don’t know why things happened the way they did, but I do know that my eyes are open and it all makes sense now.
You’re the one meant to be mine and I’m the one meant to be yours.
You just knew it way before I did. And I will spend the rest of my life showing you that you weren’t wrong to want me.
I have my work cut out for me now when life came pretty easily to me before, so maybe this, with you, was meant to humble me.
And it has, Bay. Fuck, has it…I’ve always thrived on competition and believe me, this fight has been quite the fight. ”
“Too much heavy, Jason. We’re going to a carnival,” I say. “Isn’t that supposed to be light and fun?”
He blows out a long exhale and his right hand is suddenly on top of mine, which is on my thigh. His fingertips graze my leg, which makes me clench my thighs (and other clenchable muscles besides…) and hold my breath.
“You’re not pulling your hand away,” he says in a gruff tone. “Good sign. Don’t know how long it’s gonna take before I reach for you without wondering if I’ll get zapped.”
“That’s probably a good sign, too,” I tell him.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re still willing to take the risk,” I say before I blow out a hard exhale and stare straight ahead.
Because if I turn and face him, I’m pretty sure I’ll jump his bones.
And that’d be just crazy. Not to mention the fact that he’s driving a car.
Driving a car my dad loves even more than he loves that television he just smashed.
“Baby,” he whispers. “I was not ever, not once willing to give up on this. I know it’s right. I feel it down to my bones.”
“It wasn’t necessary for you to buy Dad a TV,” I blurt, awkwardly, because I have to change the subject. Now. “It’s not your fault he broke it.”
Gosh, I’m so flippin’ awkward.
“I know it wasn’t,” he says, “But I wanted to do it.”
“And Mom is stoked about the spa.”
“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 the me I 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-sounding whine that 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.”
I can’t look down or I might hurl, so I look up at the sky. It’s lit with stars and a bright partial moon.
It’s pretty. Other rides are lit too and now I’m sort of looking down as well, and I’m not afraid to do it. The song playing through the carnival is kind of poignant. Dua Lipa’s Be the One.
Our eyes meet and he smiles big. “I was about to gesture to the carny to stop for us. But you don’t seem scared.”
And I’m not. Shockingly.
I’m up in the sky with Jason Creed, listening to music, seeing the flashing lights of a carnival he drove me to so he could feed me a corndog, deep fried carnival desserts, and win me another stuffed animal.
And he fought today. He was up all night fighting his urges and fought today with one of his closest friends, bleeding out the excess testosterone so he could greet me for a dream date, smiling with dimples like he didn’t have anything weighing him down.
Too soon, a ride I would never have voluntarily gotten on and one that I’d only ever get on with Jase is over and he’s helping me out of the gondola with his hands on my waist.
He stares into my eyes. I stare into his.
And we’re in some sort of frozen moment before something drags his focus away from my face.
“Over here,” he says, and tugs my hand. “Let’s win you another stuffed animal. Want another lemonade?”
He pays five bucks, throws three baseballs, and each one hits the targets. We get told, in a semi-disgruntled way, that we can pick one of the big stuffies.
But there’s no big wolf one. They’re all dogs and bears. So I ask if I can have a small wolf instead. The carnival worker looks at me weirdly but agrees and passes me a black and white wolf with blue eyes.
“Not this one,” Jase says, grouchily, tossing it back to the carnival worker. “What else you got?”
That wolf obviously looked too much like Joel for his liking. When our pack had the carnival, we had the stuffed wolves specially made, to look like each of our council alphas. They screwed up the Jase one, unfortunately, but I fixed mine by dipping the end of his tail in white out.
This gives me an idea. I want to organize another pack carnival, this time with seven stuffed wolves, because that one only had six.
The carny says he has no other stuffed wolves, suggests we dig through the bin of whatever they’ve got. I find myself lifting a small Tinkerbelle fairy stuffy.
I examine her a minute until my eyes hit Jase’s. He’s staring at the doll and now at me.
I shrug and we say nothing for a pregnant moment.
I think he’s thinking what I’m thinking. Not that he knows about the booties, but about the little fairy. A future grandchild?
“I’ll take this one,” I tell the carnival worker.
“You wanna play any games?” Jase asks, tone gruff.
I wrinkle my nose.
“Anything else you wanna do?” he asks.
“Um… how far until we get to the drive-in? And which movie is first? I’m not sure I can sit through two. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Breakfast Club is first.” He looks at his phone. “Starts in an hour and a half and we’re a little over half an hour from there. Want some dessert?”
“I’m kind of full,” I say, but he leads me toward the deep-fried cheesecake bites truck, saying, “I’m not.”
“Apple for me,” Jase orders and looks at me with innuendo in his expression.
“Okay, me, too,” I say, meeting his gaze and holding it.