A shiver races up my spine, dispersing down my shoulders and tightening my chest. I want to see him, speak to him. I need answers, the answers only he can give me.
How can I trust the version Father will give us? “You ready?” Remi asks, a carefree, beautiful grin on his face. I’d spent the night in Noah’s arms, and by morning, I was alone.
Whatever happens, I won’t get the chance to do anything tonight. I may as well embrace the freedom and enjoy myself. I’d never been to a fair before or outside these walls with Remi.
Nerves chew away inside me, but I won’t let them ruin our fun. We’d spent the day in the pool while Noah worked on getting things set up for tonight. He was hosting some party. I didn’t ask questions so he didn’t have to feed me more lies.
Lifting my overnight bag up over my shoulder, I say, “Ready.”
We’re just about to make it out the front door when Noah appears, calling out to us. “Hold up.”
Stroking an arm down my shoulder to forearm, he puckers his brow. “Are you going to be warm enough with no sleeves?”
“It’s summer and hot as Satan’s asshole out there. She’ll be fine. You’re fussing.” Remi swipes his arm away.
“When the sun goes down, it gets chilly,” he snipes.
“Then I’ll keep her warm. Stop worrying. She’s safe with me,” Remi assures him.
“I’m standing right here, boys, stop talking about me like I’m not. I’m warm enough, but I have a sweater in my purse if I need it.”
“Okay. Good. Are you going to check into the hotel first?” Noah’s stalling.
“Already did it online. I’ll text you once we’re at the hotel after the fair if it gets us out of this house any faster,” Remi grumbles.
Noah flips him off, and I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. “Look after each other. I’ll be here waiting for you tomorrow.”
Leaning up on my tiptoes, I drop a kiss to his lips.
“See you tomorrow.”
Clutching my hand in his, Remi drives, swerving in and out of traffic with confidence I don’t possess. I enjoy being his passenger. There’s something sexy about watching him drive, the veins bulging in his hands when he grips the wheel. His car is faster than mine, low to the asphalt and sporty. It suits him.
The terrain switches from tarmac to pebbled road. The lights flicker, illuminating the sky from a big wheel. It’s beautiful.
Pulling into a space on a field used for temporary parking, Remi turns to me, a calming smile on his perfect face. “You ready?”
“I’m nervous,” I tell him honestly.
“I’ll take care of you, I promise. You’re safe with me, and if you want to leave at any time, we can, okay?” he tells me, bringing our joined hands to his lips.
“Okay,” I agree.
Noise, loud and full of laughter, sings through the air as kids rush to the next stalls and teenagers gather in groups to ride the rides. It’s everything I missed out on attending a catholic school. Their idea of a fun time was choir.
Lights, sounds, and aromas overwhelm my senses. My heart feels lighter than it has in days.
“You want some cotton candy?”
“I don’t know, do I?” I query with a raised brow, watching a young girl swirl pink cotton wool around what looks like an upside-down drum.
Remi hands over money, and she passes a cloud of pink cotton to him in exchange.
“It’s just sugar.” He smirks when I cringe, biting into it then offering it to me.
Taking the stick, I sniff it and consume a mouthful. The sweet cloud dissolves over my tongue in an instant, the sugar awakening my tastebuds. “Good?” he asks expectantly.
“So good.” I find myself giggling, devouring another mouthful.
Leaning into me, he whispers in my ear. “That’s what you taste like.” He makes a show of closing his eyes and inhaling. “Sweet fucking candy floss.”
“Remi,” I scold, heating all over.
Being here is such a far cry from what we’re used to—what I’m used to. The world we come from almost makes me feel like a fraud amongst these people. Separate from their world, a ghost intruding.
“Want me to win you a teddy bear?” He curls his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his armpit, jerking his head to a cute teenage couple. The boy just won a little pink panda for his date.
“Absolutely. You better win me one,” I tease, poking his stomach.
“Challenge accepted, little lady.” Handing over some cash, the guy behind the stall gestures for Remi to pick up a fake rifle. There are a stack of plastic bottles lined up, three, then two, and one on top, forming a pyramid.
With ease, Remi shoots the first bottle. A young boy watches him with awe and excitement. He must only be six or seven, a Marvel t-shirt with a man nocking a bow printed on the front.