Chapter 2 Xaden #11
It’s not much — just words — but they land like they’re more than that. J?rgen’s smile softens, like he’s letting someone see a corner of himself he doesn’t usually show. For a beat too long, neither of them breaks the silence.
Henry’s mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. Then Sammy tugs J?rgen’s sleeve, whispering he wants juice, and the spell snaps.
J?rgen clears his throat, mutters, “Well. Uh. Appreciate it,” and heads out with his kid.
Henry lingers by the window a moment longer, gaze still caught in the light.
When the class wraps, Noah clutches my hand, buzzing with pride over his sneaker photo.
We trail after J?rgen and Sammy out to the parking lot, the kids talking about light and shadows like seasoned photojournalists.
J?rgen slows his long stride just enough that we end up side by side. “So… Henry,” he says, too casual, like the word’s a heavy stone he’s trying to toss lightly. “He doing alright these days?”
I smile. “Seems so. He’s pretty booked. Kids love him.”
J?rgen nods, like he was hoping for that answer, then adds quickly, “Right. Yeah. Just wondered. No reason, really,” he trails off, scratching his jaw.
If I weren’t so busy herding Noah and half-distracted by his chatter, I might think harder about why J?rgen asked. But I don’t. I just file it away in that quiet corner of my mind where small-town mysteries pile up like unopened letters.
Right next to the mystery of who keeps stealing the Bloom sisters’ lawn flamingos.
XADEN
The garage is quiet. Air heavy with oil and steel. The bay door’s cracked open, cicadas warming up for the day.
I’m doing pull-ups on the rig Frankie welded to the beam. Grip tight. Breath even. Muscle memory to keep the thoughts away.
But they come anyway. And they’re all about Cole.
Not Dad. Not the case.
Cole.
His stubborn face when he told me he wasn’t walking away.
His chaotic mind map with those sweetest confessions scribbled haphazardly in the corner.
The way he feeds me without thinking — he used to be like that. Before.
How he leaned into my kiss like no time had passed.
If Caspian hadn’t shown up with his emoji mishap, what would have happened on the couch? God, it’s better I don’t think about it.
I drop from the bar, land with a thud. My hands ache. My chest does, too. When this is over, I want one thing: to lie next to Cole and listen to his heartbeat. Just that.
The clank of boots on concrete snaps me to attention. Every muscle tightens. I grab my towel, turn—
My pulse spikes. My face doesn’t.
Sheriff Willard. Crisp jacket. Swagger like he’s untouchable. Strolling in like he owns the place. “Still keeping yourself in shape, I see.”
I wipe sweat from my neck. “Something like that.”
Frankie’s gone, taking Earl to Costco. I’m alone. Willard must’ve known. He drifts past the workbench, tapping a fender with idle fingers. Lazy. Mocking.
“You’ve settled in nicely,” he muses. “Good setup. Quiet. Out of the way.”
I don’t answer. My eyes never leave him. He smiles faintly. “Saw young Noah Hudson at Pie Pie Baywood the other day. Cute kid. Lots of energy. Be a shame if that ever… ran out.”
The towel twists in my fists, threads biting into my palms. The urge to put him through the bay door almost knocks me off my feet.
“Cole’s doing a fine job raising him,” Willard goes on, flashing a smile so fake it’d make politicians envious. “But it must be hard. No backup. No guarantees. If something unexpected happened.”
My jaw clamps. “You threatening a kid now?”
“I’m just sayin’ accidents happen in small towns. People let their guard down. Trust when they shouldn’t.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Your old man learned that the hard way.”
The world narrows to a pinprick. “I don’t care who you think you are,” I tell him, low and even. “Go near them, and I swear—”
He lifts a hand, amused. “Relax. I’m not here to start a war. Just reminding you where the lines are. And who draws them.”
He leans in, cologne thick, voice soft. “You wanna play with the big boys? You better play nice.”
He steps back. “Enjoy your day.” And then he’s gone, leaving cologne and poison in the air.
I stand there, fists clenched, until the silence gets unbearable.
Then I’m in Frankie’s back office, door slammed, burner phone in hand. Keller picks up on the second ring. “I was supposed to call you.”
“Willard just threatened Cole and Noah.” Pause. Heavy. Then Keller’s voice drops like steel. “Explain.”
I grind it out. “He showed up here. Said their names. Talked about ‘accidents.’ Dropped my dad in just to twist the knife. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle.”
Keller curses under his breath. “Okay. We’re close. I’ll get eyes on them.”
“Not some guy in a suit,” I snap. “That would paint a bigger target on them, plus I don’t want Noah to get scared.”
Silence, then Keller sighs. “I know just the right agent.”
I press a hand to my jaw. “No delays, Keller. If he so much as looks their way, I’ll—”
“You stay put. We’ll cover them,” Keller says firmly. Then, quieter: “Bailey… don’t let him bait you.”
Too late. He already has. I picture Cole in his kitchen, joking about the room temperature milk. Leaning into my kiss. I’d burn the world to protect him.
We hang up.
And in the silence that follows, I plan exactly what I’ll do if Willard threatens Cole again.
He thinks he draws the lines. I’m going to bury him under them.
COLE
I didn’t plan to come to the fair in the midst of, well, everything. But the second Noah spotted the Ferris wheel going up two days ago, its bright lights flashing in the dusky sky like a promise of fun, I knew this was inevitable.
So here we are. I remembered sunscreen, sunhat — although why do I bother when he keeps taking it off — snacks, juice, and even a bottle of water for myself. But my phone? That I forgot. Usually it wouldn’t be a big deal but today, it almost feels like an omen.
We’re wading through the smells of fried dough, popcorn, and too-sweet lemonade. Noah is grinning so wide it looks like his cheeks might split. He’s already bought a balloon, using all his pocket money to get a… I honestly don’t know what that shape is. It looks like a tooth with legs.
He’s dragging me toward the ring toss booth, tiny legs full of determination.
“You want to win a prize?” I ask.
He nods solemnly. “I want that bear, please.” The bear he’s pointing at is roughly the size of my torso, with plastic eyes that look like they’ve seen a lot. Probably everything.
“Hmm,” I say. “Not sure if the bear is ready to move in with us, but let’s see how it goes.”
I hand over a crumpled bill. Noah tries first, and his little rings wobble through the air and land everywhere but the poles.
I try next. I miss every single one.
Noah just shrugs, completely unbothered, eyes already on the wheel. God, I love this kid.
Also, if Xaden was here, he’d win that bear. He’d win it just to see Noah’s face light up. And the thought makes my stomach flip, because I can picture it: the three of us, ice cream in hand, going up on the wheel together. A family.
The Ferris wheel creaks lazily in the afternoon sun, blinking invitingly.
Suddenly it’s like I’m seventeen again.
***
We were here. Same old creaky wheel. Same songs — Staying Alive, Easy Livin ’— croaking over ancient speakers. Lights sparkling in the evening light.
It was the first time we saw each other after Pisgah.
I had already re-lived our night in the tent so many times, it was maybe unhealthy.
Xaden had landed a summer job here: lifting crates, fixing cables, charming old ladies out of their complaints. He texted me to meet him at the Ferris wheel.
“Hi,” he said softly, wiping his hands on a rag.
I blushed, like always. There was something about the way Xaden said hi that felt like he was already kissing me.
“One of the church ladies winked at me earlier,” he said gravely. “I’m traumatized.”
“I think you’ll survive,” I smile. “Unless it was Mrs. Harlow? ‘Cos in that case you’re doomed.”
Xaden leaned in, lips twitching. “It was. And I’m pretty sure the only thing that can heal me now is a kiss. From you. In a very specific location. Say… seventy feet up, with a view and some stars.”
I swallowed. “You want to go up?”
“I bribed Milo. Five minutes at the top,” Xaden said, winking. And that wink almost sent me into cardiac arrest.
We boarded the rickety seat. The Ferris wheel creaked into motion. My palms were already sweating. Xaden was calm, like always. Infuriatingly calm. Arm draped across the back of the seat like it wasn’t the most emotionally charged fairground ride of my life.
“You okay?” he asked, smiling softly. Teasing me. Grounding me. He brushed my knuckles with his thumb.
“Yeah,” I squeaked. “Just, you know. Heights.”
“You’re not scared of heights, Cole,” he said gently.
I bit my lip. “Yeah, but now I feel like a gay Rapunzel.”
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.