Page 43 of How You See Me
“I hope so.”
Her head gives me a committal nod. “Then, I want to be a part of it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Shut up, Hayes. I’m stepping out of my comfort zone for you. The least you can do is let me.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She laces our fingers and looks toward the sky. “God, please don’t let me pee in my pants.”
A snicker burst out of me. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you an authentic Dollywood outfit if you do.”
“Will it have tassels and fringe? Oh! And it must have lots of bling.”
“It will have whatever you want it to have.”
“You’re so good to me in this metaphorical world.”
“My metaphorical self sure knows how to treat a lady.” I tip my pretend cowboy hat, and her head tips in a fake swoon.
Or I think it’s fake until she whispers, “Your real self is doing just fine.”
???
The longer we wait, the more every nerve in my body seems to end in my right arm, pulsing under her body leaning against me. During our short conversation at the coaster, I’d forgotten how stressed I’d been about this trip. I wasn’t in a hurry to leave or get to the next part of the mission. I was living in the moment, relaxed, and content . . . with her.
We travel with the snaking line in silence, nerves snuffing out her thoughts as the entrance comes into view. Her back stiffens.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Again, you don’t have to.”
She gauges my sincerity for a bit, then glances up at the metal track with a shiver. “I can’t leave you.”
With a finger under her chin, I tug her gaze back to me. Her hand relaxes and her tremors settle into gentle pulses as she holds my gaze. “You can.”
The trail of cars screech to a stop beside us to let the previous riders exit. It’s either get her out of there or traumatize her forever.
“Go. I’ll meet you at the exit gate in a few minutes. Then, we’ll ride your train.”
She nods but doesn’t move—too stuck in her fears to escape. The gate opens, and the line pushes us forward as riders race to claim a seat.
“Josie.”
“Right.” She drops my hand and takes off through the waiting crowd before I can say another word.
Shit. She’s upset, and I—
“This way, sir,” a park staffer urges I’m holding up progress, rising onto my toes to look for Josie. She’s been enveloped by the sea of people waiting for the ride . . . out of sight.
Adrenaline gushes through my veins, but it’s not from anticipation of the ride as I lock the safety bar across my lap. Josie is elsewhere in the park, and I can’t protect her if something happens.She’s not a child, I remind myself. She lived in New York City for years. An amusement park for families is far less dangerous. It’s built for safety.
Reaching into my pocket, I take a selfie of me and the other riders nearby. Attaching it to a text, I quickly type a message to Ava.
Me:Stop 1: Pigeon Forge, TN, and Dollywood.[check emoji]
Me:Task 1: Ride a rollercoaster.[check emoji]
