Chapter 18 #2
The little kid in the seat ahead of us turns around at the weird sound.
He must be about four, and he’s cute as hell, dressed in a bright yellow firefighter costume.
As he climbs up to kneel on the seat, his mom throws a polite, somewhat apologetic glance over her shoulder.
I wish Gus was here so I could introduce the kid to a real firefighter—blow his tiny mind.
I catch the kid’s eye, wiggling the axe from my belt to show him.
“It’s a dog toy,” I explain, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“It looks like an axe, but it doesn’t actually work.
See, I’ll show ya.” I bang it on the back of his seat a couple times, then spin it around.
“You try. C’mon, hit it as hard as you can.
” When I notice his mom’s hesitation, I quickly add, “Don’t worry, I washed it. ”
She looks relieved.
His grabby hands quickly claim it and he gives it a little squeeze, then proceeds to whack the thing with comical vigor against the wooden bench, yielding only a few strange, honking squeaks that make us all laugh.
“See? Not even a dent,” I say when he stops, smoothing my fingers over where he’d attacked the seatback. “I think it’s broken, dude!”
A tinny safety announcement crackles over a small speaker above us and the boy’s mom tells him it’s time to turn around and sit down. She passes the axe back to me and, when her son starts to protest, she’s saved by the train slowly chugging into motion, distracting him.
“You’re good with kids,” Caroline says, keeping her voice low—even though a private conversation on this cramped little train car is impossible. “Do you want kids someday?”
“Nah,” I say honestly, scrunching my nose. “Don’t think I’ve got it in me. I mean, taking care of me seems to be a full-time gig here.” I flick my eyes to Caroline, the corner of my mouth curling up. “Still trying to be my own grown-up, y’know? Wouldn’t be fair to throw a baby into that.”
I’d say more, but this isn’t really the place for a deep dive about my mental health and all the reasons parenthood would be a bad idea for me.
“Well, pretty sure throwing babies is frowned upon, anyway,” she teases, nudging my knee.
“See? What the f…” By some miracle, I stop myself from dropping an f-bomb in earshot of our tiny firefighter buddy. “What the heck do I know?”
Caroline’s red lips twist in amusement and I resist the urge to kiss her.
“I think Jude and Olena’ll probably have kids someday, though. He’s already basically a dad, personality-wise.”
“I can see that.” She tilts her head, I’m sure remembering the protective shit he pulled at the arcade.
“So, I figure I’ll be fun Uncle Miles, y’know? Spoil ’em, get ’em all wound up on candy and then just…”—I make a pushing away motion—“give ’em back.”
“I’m sure your brother will love that,” she teases. “Be sure to buy them lots of super noisy toys too.”
“That’s the plan.” I laugh. “What about you? You want kids?”
“No.”
I have no business feeling relieved to hear her say that. But tell that to my fucking relief. I can’t deny how my heart twisted in the milliseconds after asking the question, and how her simple no had let me breathe again. I clench my jaw.
This is hypothetical. Not about us.
“No?” I repeat, searching her beautiful eyes as the train rounds the haunted houses.
Fuck, if I wasn’t already falling for her…
Creepy music and witchy cackles drift out from the smaller shack and strings of orange lights swing in the wind above the entrance where a line of families waits to go in.
“Never had the interest, to be honest.” She casts a guilty glance toward the mother in front of us. “I didn’t exactly get the best example growing up, either.”
“Then how’d you turn out like this?”
“Like what?”
The train chugs along past the second haunted house—the bigger and scarier of the two, a two-story converted barn geared toward teens and adults. A group of teenage boys clusters in the line to get in, bullshitting and joking around, one of them fucking with a lighter.
“Sorry, what?” I ask when I realize Caroline’s waiting for a response.
“How’d I turn out like what?” Her expression is open—genuinely curious. She really doesn’t know how incredible she is. How taken I am with her.
“Uh,” I hedge, dangerously close to spilling my guts. “Well, probably not a human nightmare.”
She lets out an adorable snort-laugh. “I deserved that.”
“I mean, jury’s still out!” I shrug and she whacks me gently in the ribs, reminding me of how she elbowed me earlier. Bumping my knee against hers, I drop my voice low. “Hey, why didn’t you tell Ada the truth back there?”
She looks sheepish but doesn’t answer.
“You called me your boyfriend.”
“I know.” Her gaze drops to the basket balanced on her lap.
“Thought we were, y’know, being straight up about this whole thing with—”
“I know,” she says again, cutting me off. “It’s just… Ada’s kind of a newer friend, and I guess it felt complicated to explain in the moment.” She fidgets with the edge of the little checkered cloth in her basket, unable to meet my eyes.
“That’s not it, is it?”
She sets her jaw. “Maybe someone was eavesdropping. I dunno.”
That’s not it, either.
“Okay,” I say, pushing down the thousand questions fighting their way up my throat. Maybe if I offer up a slice of truth, she’ll cop to the real reason. “Can I admit something?”
She looks up, seeming nervous about what kind of bomb I might drop between us. “Of course.”
“It felt nice. To hear you say it. To pretend. It’s been nice to pretend.
With you.” It’s as close as I can get to admitting it.
That pretend slipped away from me somewhere along the way.
That I carry an aching regret about the clock running out.
That I wish I could be a better man for her—the type who can give her everything she deserves.
“And maybe… I dunno, maybe it felt nice that way for you too.”
She swallows and threads her fingers between mine, like I did in the car on the way to the fundraiser that first night—careful, slow, exploratory. “Yeah. I think it did.”
Just holding hands like this—for the sake of it—feels strangely intimate considering we’ve done it a dozen other times before. Because, this time, there aren’t any cameras. No one’s watching.
“Only a few more days, huh?” The thought claws at my heart.
“Right.” Her features cloud over slightly and she nods.
I remind myself she doesn’t want a relationship, either. Or, at least, that’s what she told me the night of the fundraiser. But something about the way she’s looking at me has me wondering if it’s still true.
“I was actually thinking,” she adds quietly, throwing a hesitant glance my way, “maybe we could stay friends after? I know that wasn’t what we talked about, but…”
Hating myself for it, I shake my head. I can’t risk my job and everything riding on it. “Your dad was really clear—”
“He doesn’t need to know.”
I lower my gaze, not trusting myself to stay steady with those crystal eyes pleading with me.
I’m fucking tempted, my desperation to keep some scrap of Caroline in my life locking horns with everything logical about our circumstances.
But what are we gonna do? Have some secret, half-assed friendship?
Risk her dad finding out I didn’t follow orders?
“I mean, we could at least talk on the phone or—”
“I can’t,” I force out. Frowning, I shake my head again. “As much as I want to, I can’t risk it.”
“I’m sorry. Of course.” She blinks, as if trying to snap herself out of getting carried away. “I shouldn’t have suggested it. I told you I wouldn’t—”
“No, I get it. I do. It’s just…” I clench my jaw as I search for the words. “It has to be a clean break, okay?”
“Yeah.” Brow pinched, she nods. “Okay.” But the slight catch in her voice and the pain in her eyes have me regretting my words.
Her full red lips tremble slightly, and it tugs at something inside me; I’ve never wanted to kiss her more. And not because I wanna get under that dress.
It’s because I’m scared shitless I’ve found the perfect woman at the wrong fucking time. And, even though I know I have no choice but to let her go, all I wanna do is pull her closer.
The train’s brakes screech, jostling us to a stop.
Ride’s over.
As we climb off the little train, I keep my fingers entwined with hers, needing her touch to ground me, to anchor me, to keep me from spiraling over this ending too soon.
I refuse to spend my last few days with her lost in my head, spinning out and grieving what’s still right in front of me.
It’s like the opposite of that old Joni Mitchell song.
I do know what I’ve got, and it’s not gone. Not yet.
We walk in silence, an unspoken weight between us, until we spot Ada up ahead.
She’s talking to a tall, beardy guy dressed like the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride, who she introduces as her boyfriend, Jesse. He seems almost confused as he shakes my hand.
Ada cuts a glance over at the teens running the game booth. “Hey, so, I think I can leave the kids to do their thing for a bit. You folks wanna check out the haunted house?”
“Sure,” Caroline says, peering up at me with a question in her eyes.
“Oh, hard pass.”
“What?” She almost chuckles at my blunt answer.
“Uh, yeah. If you people find scaring yourselves entertaining, fill your boots, but I’ve got enough trauma for one lifetime.
” I wink to soften the brutal honesty behind my words.
But it’s true: I’ve never liked haunted houses, gore, or thrillers—even before my parents died.
My idea of a good time has always been having a laugh, not giving myself nightmares.
After all the shit I’ve been through, I don’t need to add any fuel to my anxiety by traumatizing myself on purpose.
My nervous system doesn’t need that shit.
“Okay,” Caroline says. She looks hesitant about leaving me—no doubt still mulling over our conversation on the train.
I’m not thrilled about letting her go either, but I’m not gonna hold her back from having fun tonight.
“Jess?” Ada tugs on the loose sleeve of his black shirt. “You in?”
“Nah, once was enough for me. I went earlier with Marcus and Renee. Think I’m gonna get something to eat.”
Caroline kisses me goodbye and, for the brief moment when her lips press against mine, I want to stop time, sink my hands under her warm cloak and haul her against me—make the kiss endless.
But, just as quickly as she rose up on her toes, she pulls away, her eyes lingering on mine before she turns to follow Ada across the grounds.
When the girls have left, I turn back to Jesse.
“You wanna grab a bite?” he asks.
“Uh, sure. I could eat.”
“Ever had a Japanese hot dog? There’s this stand over by the pumpkin patch. It’s surprisingly good.”
“A Japanese hot dog?” I give Jesse—and this concept—a hefty dose of skepticism.
“Trust me. I used to eat them all the time in Australia. You haven’t lived until you’ve had seaweed on a hot dog.”
“Alright, I’m game.”
As we head to the hot dog stand, Jesse gives me a sidelong glance. He hesitates another few moments before he breaks the silence. “Hey, uh, this is super weird, but… you look so much like someone I know. It’s tripping me out.”
“Oh, yeah?” I shrug. “People say I look like my brother, Jude.”
Jesse stops in his tracks, yanking up his mask to rest on his black bandana. “You’re Jude’s brother? No fucking way!”
“You know him?”
Jesse’s eyes go wide. “Uh, I work for him!”
“Fuck all the way off. You serious?”
“This town, man.” Jesse shakes his head, then inspects me again as we resume our quest for the hot dog stand. “I was gonna say, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him wear that exact shirt.”
“This is his fucking shirt!” I pinch the plaid flannel. “I borrowed it for my costume.”
Jesse laughs. “What the shit?”
“I know!”
We pay for our food and find a bench near the stand to sit down and eat. I marvel at the unexpectedly delicious combination of flavors on my tongue. “Shit, this is good.”
“I know, right?” Jesse asks before taking another bite. He chews for a few moments before talking around his mouthful. “So, what do you do for work?”
“Construction.”
“So safe to assume that’s not how you met Caroline?”
“No, we, uh…” I pause, settling on the simplest explanation. “We met at the gym. A few weeks ago.”
Jesus. Has it only been that long?
My mind sifts through everything the last few weeks have brought—how Caroline has opened up my world just as much as I’ve opened up hers.
I must look like I’m on another planet as we eat, because the sound of Jesse crumpling up his hot dog wrapper and chucking it into a nearby trash can eventually interrupts my thoughts.
I take the last bite of my hot dog and push off the bench to toss out my garbage.
“Is that smoke?” Jesse asks, tilting his chin. He sniffs the air.
“Where?” I swallow and scan the crowd. I can’t smell anything other than the hot dog I just ate, but the energy around us starts to shift. Worried murmurs intersperse with a few indistinct shouts. With a quick glance at Jesse, I reorient my gaze to follow his.
Someone runs past us.
“Shit, is that—” he mumbles, then more urgently, “is that the fucking haunted house?”
In the distance, the old barn flickers in a distinct orange glow and a dark gray plume steadily rises into the night sky, lit from below.
No.
Jesse’s already taking off running, dodging the throngs of people now streaming in the opposite direction. “Ada! Ada!”
It’s his terrified shouts that finally cut through my frozen state and get my feet moving—a jog at first, then a sprint.
Caroline.