Page 50 of Fall With Me
After we ate, we went through the smaller corn maze, went down the giant slide, shot paintball guns, went on the ropes course, and listened to a pumpkin princess read a story.
There were plenty of activities we didn’t get a chance to explore, but I feel solid in our plan for the festival. I’m considering adding a book nook for the kids. They can each choose a book to take home, and whatever is left, Carter can donate to a teacher or the shelter downtown.
I’d love to do a maze, but I’m not sure of the logistics without a corn field or hundreds of hay bales being used. We don’t have money for extra straw.
“What do you think?” Dawson asks.
“I’m glad we came. I think my original stations will work beautifully. I’ll text you with what I need you to do.”
“Sounds good. And thanks for your help with Finn tonight. He gets fixated on getting what he wants and I can’t seem to talk him out of it. You’re patient and kind to him. I appreciate it.”
My heart swells from his compliment. “He’s a good kid. I have fun when I’m around him.” I kept my distance from Finn at first as a protection, but Finn’s too sweet and fun not to love.
“Even when he acts like a stubborn mule?”
I laugh. “Yes, even then.”
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Are you okay?”
I eye Dawson. What is he talking about? “Uhh…yes?”
He chuckles. “Sorry. My mind is jumping around. You freaked out on the ride. We got busy and haven’t really spoken about it since. I want to make sure you’re doing all right.”
I shrug. “I’m fine.” Mainly because we didn’t talk about it. “Thank you for not making it a big deal or forcing me to do something else I’d also hate in retaliation.” Like Dawson said I would have. Because he’s right. I totally would.
“I was worried about you more than wanting revenge.”
And that right there is why Dawson is as amazing as he is.
Maybe because it’s dark or because I’ve been around Dawson enough, it’s easier to spill my fears, but I find myself admitting, “The reason I always want to compete with other people is to prove I’m a winner. Winners don’t get abandoned.”
I look out the window, the lights on the side of the freeway flashing by every few seconds.
If I had won more often, or been a perfect daughter, Mom wouldn’t have chosen drugs and men over Carter and me. If we’d behaved all the time, if I got better grades, if I was the best at jump rope and eating my vegetables, what reason would Mom have for leaving?
None.
Dawson glances at me quickly, a deep V forming between his brows. “Wait. After this festival is over, are you afraidI’mgoing to leave our friendship? I’m not your mom. I knew my marriage was over three years ago. I stayed, trying to make it work with Willow. I’m not a quitter, Chloe.”
I fiddle with my watch band. “Before meeting Kate, I didn’t have a lot of close friends. Part of that is because Carter and I were teased so much about being raised by our grandparents, but I also made a lot of mistakes. I’m not perfect and once people figured it out, they were gone. Take all my past relationships for example. A few months into dating, men would realize I pushed us as a couple to be like other people I saw online because that’s what I thought a relationship for someone my age was supposed to be like. I’d force us to go out often and document how firm our commitment to each other was by constantly taking photos of us kissing, hugging, or cuddling. I was also so worried about them leaving me that I went too hard too fast. And now, to keep myself and others around me safe, I just haven’t dated at all for two years.”
But I want this friendship with Dawson and Finn to work. Opening up to Dawson is easier than in any other relationshipI’ve had (besides with Kate, who didn’t let me brush her off). I’m not entirely sure if it’s because of how well Dawson listens, or because I trust him, or if I’m worried about screwing up because of Finn that I’m putting myself out there more, but I’m willing to show a part of myself to Dawson I usually don’t with anyone else.
“It takes a lot to scare me off,” Dawson reiterates.
His words are like an IV filling my veins with surety. Dawson is loyal and strong enough to handle my insecurities.
Dawson reaches over the middle console, his hand finding mine. Our fingers intertwine. This simple touch spreads warmth from my palm to my heart. There’s comfort, truth, reassurance, and a promise he’ll be there for me in the gesture. Weird how I can feel it all through a handhold, but I do.
“There’s something about you, Dawson Reed, that makes me believe you.”
“It’s my muscles, isn’t it? I caught you staring at them the first time we met.”
I smack the back of his hand. “You’re conceited.”
He flashes me a smile that melts me from the inside out. “I prefer to call it confidence.”
Whatever the word, I’m attracted to it. Let’s be real. There’s quite a lot I’m attracted to when it comes to the man sitting in the seat next to me. The way he carries himself and is sure of who he is, how he cares for other people, these are only tiny slices of the many reasons why I like him.
