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“What does everyone wanna do?”

Gunnar spouted off a list that included everything from eating hot dogs to riding the Cyclone till he puked. Dottie and Abigail continued staring with their eyes round and heads swiveling like owls. I joined them in gleeful observation.

Loren and I hadn’t been to Coney Island in years, not since they opened a new ride called the Phoenix, of all things. It billed itself as a “family thrill roller coaster.” Considering the word “thrill” in the name, I expected Loren to sit it out, and I would be sitting with him. Anywhere. Everywhere. Being in this place brought back scores of fond memories, and I knew Loren had them, too. It was going to be a good night.

As we advanced down the boardwalk, the hounds formed a protective ring around me. Since I was the shortest of the bunch,I found myself peering between their bodies to see the path ahead.

Loren started off on the outside on the circle, surveying everything with sharp eyes and a tight expression. I caught his arm and pulled him in to place his hand on the small of my back. It was a wordless request, but a simple one: Come. Stay.

Pack mentality seemed to be kicking in, and the group moved as one, ducking and weaving through the crowd. It might have been intimidating—this ball of people cluttering the boardwalk—but I doubted anyone was put off by Abigail flinching at everyone who passed too close and Dottie staring unblinking at the Ferris wheel cresting the horizon.

Loren was fresh out of Hell a few years after the Wonder Wheel was constructed. It terrified him. A gargantuan contraption with gondolas that swayed as it spun. He’d acted like it was an invader in his town, a device designed for torture rather than pleasure. But he’d warmed up to it, even grown to like it.

Snaking my arm around his waist, I pinned us together before forging through the hellhound barrier. The others stopped and looked at me for explanation.

“Lore and I are gonna take a ride.” I gestured to the Wonder Wheel. “Wanna split up and meet at Nathan’s for hot dogs?”

Sully frowned. “I thought the point was?—”

“To have a nice, quiet evening,” I supplied. “And I don’t know anyone nicer or quieter than my boyfriend.”

I could have gone for the hard sell, reminding her this was the first time in a century I’d been fully present with Loren. I was aware of every moment that had brought us to this one and painfully conscious of the doubts and hurts he had barely begun to express. I knew Loren well enough to realize that for every word he said, he thought ten more. The wounds he’d opened up to me went deeper than he would admit. It worried me to thinkthey cut cleanly through, leaving holes where I’d taken too much from him and failed to give enough back.

That changed tonight.

“Give us fifteen minutes,” I continued, “then you guys can put a backpack leash on me for the rest of the night.”

Jokes about leashes might have been tasteless in the presence of my canine companions, but no one spoke as Sully gave mute consent. She tried to look serious, warning me with her eyes to be on my best behavior, but I didn’t miss her smile. Best wing woman in Brooklyn.

I led Loren to the closest ticket booth. I bought a few more tickets than we needed, counting on Gunnar to convince the girls and Whitney to ride at least one thing. Or maybe I’d leave that job to Sully. She seemed to be doing a fine job getting the buttoned-up Brit to let his hair down.

With tickets in hand, we joined the line for the Wonder Wheel. When we passed by the teenaged attendant, I folded a ten-dollar bill around our tickets and tried to discreetly ask her to stop our gondola at the top.

I was sure Loren heard—hellhound hearing rarely failed, even with earplugs in play—but he didn’t comment as we climbed the steps to board the ride. He sat on the bench opposite me and immediately cut his gaze toward the group we’d left behind. Sully queued up for tickets, leaving the hounds to watch Gunnar as he gestured enthusiastically toward the wooden tracks of the Cyclone.

Our gondola rose while other passengers got on. Loren kept looking away, so I did, too, gazing across the boardwalk as elevation improved our view. Lights sparkled, and colors stained the night, and I caught myself wishing it was all a little bit brighter. Just a tiny bitmore. It could be—would be—if I was high. Then hues ran like ribbons and every bulb burned with the heat that was missing from my core.

The craving, that too-specific itch, nagged at me until I faced Loren and found him haloed in the ambient glow and looking damn near heavenly.

My pretty baby. My reason. Every addict needed one.

Scooting forward, I hugged my knees on either side of his and laid my palms on his thighs.

He stirred to my advance and cocked his head quizzically.

Like I had in the trailer, I brushed his hair back, this time to pluck out one of the earplugs so I could whisper, “You look nice tonight.”

Blush added a rosy tone to his cool, olive skin. “Nice” didn’t begin to cover it, but I was trying to be a gentleman. Coming on slow when I wanted more than anything to crawl into his lap and kiss him.

When he didn’t answer, I grinned and pitched my voice low to imitate his smooth baritone. “Thanks, Indy. You look good, too.”

He snorted and gave his head a shake. “You’re always gorgeous, Doll. You know that.”

“Mmhmm,” I agreed. “And yet I still like to hear it.”

The color faded from his cheeks as his focus drifted again. Everything worth seeing was up here, but he seemed more interested in the goings-on at ground level.

After several seconds of silence, I rose and crossed to his side of the gondola, then sat with my hip pressed into his.