Page 36 of Open Arms

“Next up, the bumper cars!” Abby declared as we disembarked, her energy showing no signs of waning.

“Think you can handle it?” I asked Chloe, my tone light, teasing.

“Bring it on,” she shot back, her competitive edge peeking through.

We chased each other around the track, bumping into one another’s cars with bursts of laughter. Each collision sent a thrill through me, and from the look on Chloe’s face, I wasn’t alone in that feeling.

“Gotcha!” she yelled as she bumped into my car, sending me spinning.

“Nice try!” I called back, grinning as I maneuvered for another pass.

The night progressed, a blur of lights, sounds, and thrills, but it was those secret glances, those shared smiles, that stayed with me, lingering like the taste of cotton candy on my tongue. Chloe’s presence was becoming an anchor, steadying me in the middle of this whirlwind. And I was starting to think I didn’t want to escape its pull. Not at all.

Back at my place, everyone gathered ‘round the fire pit, pleasantly worn out from the rides, games, and six-year-old who ran circles around us all.

The embers crackled, casting a warm glow on the faces gathered around my backyard bonfire. Laughter mingled with the soft strumming of music from my outdoor speakers, as we alllounged back. I skewered a marshmallow, turning it over the flames, watching it brown just right.

“Careful now, Mase. Don’t let it catch fire,” Eryn teased from across the flickering light.

“Never,” I replied, my attention split between the perfect roast and Chloe, sitting next to me, her knees pulled up to her chest. The firelight danced in her blue eyes, making them sparkle like the clear Whittier Falls night sky. Our shoulders brushed, a touch sending a jolt straight through me, but neither of us moved away.

“Who knew an evening chasing after carnival prizes could work up such an appetite?” Chloe mused, her voice soft but clear, taking a bottle of water from Abby who was playing waitress.

“Life’s short, eat dessert first—or in this case, only,” I said, handing her my perfectly roasted marshmallow. “For you.”

“Thanks, Mason.” She smiled, and I felt that smile like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Hey, Chlo,” Walker called out, standing by the horseshoe pits we’d set up earlier. “You in for a game?”

She hesitated, glancing my way. I nudged her gently. “Go on, show ‘em what you’ve got.”

“Sure,” she said, rising with that grace I’d come to admire. “Why not?”

We watched as Chloe took her position at the stake, the group quieting down a bit to see the newcomer take her shot. She focused, took a breath, and then, with a flick of her wrist, sent the horseshoe sailing through the air. It clanged against the stake with a satisfying sound, hooking neatly—a ringer.

“Beginner’s luck!” Walker shouted.

“Looks like we got a live one,” Damon declared, but his grin belied his true amazement.

“I just so happen to be great at games involving tossing objects at things,” Chloe replied, her confidence rising. She threw again, and once more the horseshoe found its mark.

“Wow, look at you go,” Caroline called, clapping for her.

I couldn’t have torn my gaze away if I tried. There she stood, a mysterious blend of softness and strength. Each successful toss peeled back another layer of the reserve she wore like armor. She laughed—a rich, genuine sound—and it echoed in my chest.

“Seems like you’ve discovered your hidden talent today, Chlo,” I commented when she returned to her seat by the fire, cheeks flushed with triumph.

“Guess I did,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “Though I think I had a good luck charm cheering me on.”

“Maybe so,” I agreed, feeling a warmth spread inside me that had nothing to do with the fire before us. “But I think it’s all you.”

Her smile didn’t fade, and neither did mine. Maybe it was the sparks flying upward into the night or the shared victory of a well-thrown horseshoe, but something unspoken settled between us—a promise, a potential. And under the stars of Whittier Falls, it felt like anything was possible.

Abby’s soft snores filled her small room, a sure sign that today’s adventure had worn her out. I pulled the blanket up to her chin and planted a kiss on her forehead before tiptoeing out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough for the hallway light to seep through.

“Sleep tight, little cowgirl,” I whispered.

In the living room, I found Chloe, her hands idly straightening the throw pillows on the couch. The rest of the group’slaughter filtered in from outside, but in here, silence reigned. Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us, like the first spark from flint and steel.

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