Chapter 27
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 was so worth it,” she said, beaming as she cradled the rooster under one arm.
“Glad you think 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 zigzag and spin 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.
“Exactly.” I huffed. “That game should be illegal, or at least come with a warning label for cowboys…‘Caution: May damage pride.’”
She laughed outright then and gave the rooster a little jostle in her arm. “Well, I’m sorry about your wounded pride, but Sheriff Cluck Norris here is going to make it up to you with his very important job.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Cluck Norris?”
“Mmmhmm.” She nodded. “He’s my new personal security detail for the chicken coop.”
A surprised laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You’re bringing that in with you to face off with Chante?”
“You bet your ass I am. I’m gonna look that devil bird right in his beady little eyes and tell him,” she hoisted Cluck Norris up a little higher, “that this is what happens to naughty roosters.”
We finally reached the taco booth, and I ordered us each two brisket tacos with extra queso and a pair of bottled sodas.
With all of the picnic tables taken up by families and elderly folk, I steered us toward a patch of grass just off the main path.
Andi plopped down with Cluck Norris and sat cross-legged, temporarily demoting the stuffed rooster from fearless protector to makeshift tray stand.
A grin pulled at my mouth as I settled down beside her.
“They smell good,” Andi said, taking the taco-filled paper boat from my outstretched hand.
“Yeah,” I said, handing her a soda. “But they can’t beat the ones Luke and I get from this little hole-in-the-wall place off Route 39. We always stop there when we’re hauling horses out toward Calverton. Miss Gloria’s brisket tacos are hands down the best in the state.”
Andi eyed me curiously, carefully lifting one of the tacos and trying not to lose any of it.
“Is she real, or just one of those mystical food ladies y’all just made up to scare tourists off chain restaurants?
” She took a bite and let out a moan that hit me square in the gut.
“Okay, this might be the best decision I’ve made all week. ”
I tried not to think too hard about what my best decision might’ve been.
“See what I mean?” I said. “And, yes, she’s real. Luke loves her cooking so much he proposes to her every time we stop in.”
“He does not.” She took another bite. Gave another moan. Sent my mind to places it had no business going.
“I wish I was lying,” I said, finally tearing into my own food. “But that’s Luke.”
A comfortable silence settled in around us for the next couple of bites, breaking only when Andi unscrewed the cap of her soda and hit me with, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
I raised a brow and shifted my jaw, dragging my tongue along the inside of my cheek until I nudged loose the rogue piece of brisket wedged between two of my teeth. “Like what?”
“Something random.” She shrugged and took a drink of her soda. “Don’t overthink it.”
“Uh-uh.” Setting the remaining half of my taco back in the paper boat, I used the crappy napkins they offered us to wipe my hands before shaking my head. “I went first last time we swapped stories.” I broke the seal on my soda and took a swig. “Your turn.”
She worked on chewing another bite of her taco—the tip of her tongue peeking out against the corner of her mouth to sweep away a bit of queso pooled there. “I’ve never been outside of Louisiana until now.”
I capped my soda and set it in the grass next to me. “Never? Not even on vacation or anything?”
She shook her head, diving into her second taco.
“My parents weren’t big on travel. Said it was too expensive and preferred to spend their hard-earned money on things they’d get to enjoy more than once.
” She took another bite and chewed. “And after they passed, I moved into a penthouse suite with my ex, so there wasn’t much ‘need’ to go anywhere else.
He’d always say, ‘Why leave paradise?’ And I guess I just…
started thinking that was normal.” Her eyes fell to her lap as she paused, but a second later she perked back up and looked my way. “Have you ever been outside of Texas?”
I nodded, quietly cataloging what she’d just said as I crumpled up my used napkins and tossed them into my now empty paper boat. “Yeah, but it’s always been for things related to the ranch. Auctions. Equipment. Picking up horses here and dropping them off there.”
She mimicked my nod. “Okay, your turn. Let’s hear your something random.”
“I just told you.”
She stopped mid-chew and shot me a side-eyed glare. “You can’t piggyback off my random fact. It has to be authentically yours.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, stretching out into a lounging position and propping myself up on my elbow. “I got kicked out of this very fair once for climbing the Ferris wheel.”
Her eyes lit up. “No, you did not.”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand, “I did.”
Finishing the rest of her taco in one big bite, she dropped her trash into the paper boat and turned her body so she was facing me—adjusting Cluck Norris in her lap so he was no longer a table but an active listener in our conversation. “I need to know everything. Spill.”
A wide smile pulled at my mouth from her excitement. “It’s really not much of a story. I was fifteen and did it on a dare.”
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes and swatted me with the rooster. “Worst storyteller ever. How did the dare happen? Was it teenage boy shenanigans?” Her voice fell to a dramatic whisper. “Were you trying to impress a girl?”
I laughed and plucked at a blade of grass.
“My friend Troy swiped a jar of moonshine from his old man’s stash and, like the bunch of idiots we all were, we took turns passing it around behind the Tilt-a-Whirl until we were halfway to being completely shitfaced.
Not long after that, the shenanigans began, and there may or may not have been a girl who I may or may not have been trying to impress. ”
“So, you climbed the Ferris wheel?” Her lips folded inward, trapping the laugh behind them.
I shrugged and tore off another blade of grass, tossing it at her playfully. “She liked The Notebook.”
That sent her over the edge.
Laughter tore from her throat, completely unrestrained, as she tossed her head back and just…let loose. I liked seeing this side of her, and I liked knowing I could be the one to make her laugh like that—even if it was at my own expense.
“If you’re all done cackling at my romantic gestures,” I teased, sitting up to collect our trash. “The fireworks are about to start.” I stood up with our trash and walked it over to the nearby trash barrels.
Around us, the chaos started to settle. A large crowd was already drifting toward the wide-open field behind the rodeo arena, staking out prime viewing spots with blankets and lawn chairs.
Food and craft vendors called out last-minute deals before pulling down the metal shutters over their serving windows.
And, one by one, the neon lights of the rides blinked out until only the Ferris wheel remained lit, spinning slowly against the darkening sky.
After dumping our trash, I walked back to where Andi was still sitting in the grass. “Are we able to see them from here?” she asked.
I watched her take in the crowd, moving slowly like a herd of cattle with too much stuff and too much noise. Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.
“We’ll see them just fine,” I said, dropping back down beside her and stretching out again.
She shot me an appreciative smile before looking back at the darkening sky.
“I love fireworks,” she said after a moment, adjusting that ridiculous rooster in her lap and fluffing his lopsided hat before curling her arms around him like a pillow.
“There’s just something about them that’s so…
magical. And no matter how many times you see them, they still surprise you.
Like the ones that pop in layers or—oooh!
—the ones that crackle and fall really slow like glittering rain.
” She gave a dreamy sigh. “Those are my favorite.”
I should’ve been looking up at the sky with her, tracking where the first burst might go off, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
I thought seeing her laugh with her whole heart was something, but this?
This was so much better. Watching her throw her hands around as she talked, like she couldn’t keep all that energy bottled up.
Hearing how her voice pitched up with excitement.
Every now and then she’d glance my way, checking if I was still with her, and I’d nod because I was.
I was all in sitting there next to her, watching her light up like a kid on Christmas… and she had no clue.
The first firework launched into the sky like a falling star in reverse, and Andi let out this soft, breathless sound that hooked right into my chest. It pulled me out of my head—out of that strange out of body place where I was watching myself fall for her in real time.
Boom.
It bloomed across the sky in a soft crackle of purple and gold, illuminating her face as she stared at it with childlike wonder.
She beamed and leaned forward slightly as the next firework shot into the air—one of those white-hot screamers that whistled on the way up before bursting in a loud, staccato crack overhead.
I felt it in my chest, and she must have, too, because she flinched.
Not much, just a tiny jolt in her shoulders, but enough that I saw it.
Still, she kept smiling. Kept her eyes on the sky.
Another one followed, bigger and louder, this time.
It exploded in a flash of green before two more cracks sounded in succession.
She flinched again, and I caught the way her arms tightened around that stuffed bird—her fingers going white-knuckled in the dim light as she clutched him to her.
She swallowed. Forced a smile. And I watched helplessly as that light that had burned so bright in her just minutes ago started to fade.
Each crack of sound stole a little more of it as her spine curved inward and her shoulders curled like she was trying to shrink down.
“You okay?” I asked, keeping my voice soft enough that it wouldn’t startle her but loud enough so she could hear me.
She nodded too fast. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
I wasn’t buying it.
Another firework screamed overhead and cracked like a gunshot, too loud and too close.
Andi’s entire body flinched this time, and when I instinctively moved to give her a reassuring touch, she jerked away from me and sucked in a breath.
I froze, throwing my hands up to show her I wasn’t a threat. “Hey, it’s okay,” I murmured. “You’re okay. It’s just me.”
She blinked fast as her gaze locked with mine, like she was trying not to cry, and shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Do you want to get out of here?”
There was a second of hesitation, and then she nodded.
I was on my feet in a flash, careful not to rattle her any more than she already was, and held out my hand. She took it without a word, still clutching that rooster tight to her chest, as I helped her up and tucked her trembling frame against my side.
Feeling her body shake like that nearly killed me.
I kept a steady hand at the small of her back as we cut away from the fairgrounds and headed toward the dirt lot.
Tension rolled off of her like heat off blacktop, and by the time we reached my truck she was trembling so hard I had to help her into the passenger seat.
She climbed in without protest, and I shut the door gently as I made my way around to the driver’s side, tugging my phone out of my pocket as I went.
Seeing as Norah left right after the rodeo to take the horses home, and my mom left not long after the pie contest, I thumbed off a quick text to the only other family member who knew we were still at the fair.
Me: Taking Andi home.
Luke replied instantly. Use protection.
I didn’t bother responding, just climbed in and dropped my phone into the console.
The second my door closed, the silence hit harder than it had after that second firework cracked. She was staring out the passenger window, arms wrapped around her middle now instead of the rooster, legs drawn up slightly in the seat. Still quiet. Still shaking.
I cranked the engine and pulled onto the gravel path, steering us away from the fairgrounds and back toward the ranch. A minute passed. Then another. And the quiet wasn’t just charged with tension that I couldn’t even begin to explain; it was…suffocating.
Taking my eyes off of the road for just a second, I glanced over and saw her swipe at her face with the tips of her fingers…
and that was it. Something broke loose inside me, and I just needed to do…
something. But she was too far away—trembling and trying so hard to hold it together, and too damn far away.
“You’re killin’ me, princess,” I said softly, reaching over to pop the buckle on her seatbelt. “C’mere.”
Her glassy eyes found mine, but she didn’t move. Not yet. But when I held out my arm and motioned her over, she came to me.
Climbing over the center console, she carefully tucked herself sideways between me and the wheel and curled into my lap like it was the only place she wanted to be.
Her thighs draped across mine, boots resting on the edge of the passenger seat, as her arms slipped around my neck and her head settled into that space between my shoulder and jaw.
With one hand on the wheel and the other planted firmly around her waist, I made sure I stayed well within the speed limit and murmured, “I’ve got you,” as my lips brushed her temple.
And I did. No matter what tonight stirred up or how long it took to come back from…I had her.
She was safe here with me, and I was going to make sure she knew it.