Page 26

IF YOU’RE GOOD

MILA

The lights on the carousel brighten as people climb off their horses. In the bustle, Alex doesn’t lead me to the edge like I expect. He pulls me to the center.

We step off the main platform onto another that doesn’t spin like the rest of the ride.

I open my mouth to tell him we can’t be here, but he presses me to a mirror, popping open a panel to tug me inside a circular room.

It’s darker in the center of the carousel, and the space is tight. Only about six feet from one side to the other. In the center are the gears that send the ride in circles, with a tight walking path around them.

The entire space is lined with ivory-framed one-way mirrors that look out at the carnival around us.

“They can’t see in,” Alex says in reassurance, confirming my thoughts.

“I’ve never been in this part of a carousel before.” It’s surprising even to me, as I’ve seen the ins and outs of almost every attraction at the carnival .

Although, this one is slightly bigger than the carnival my parents run. I can’t imagine the work in transporting all of this.

Alex watches me walk the small circle around the gears. I trace the curved edges of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors until I slow to a stop in front of him again.

“You actually came tonight.” My smile is genuine and vulnerable and terrifying.

He tucks my hair behind my ear. A surprisingly gentle gesture from a man I know capable of being anything but.

“It’s what you wanted.”

“And that matters?” I wet my lips. “All I have to do is ask you to be there, and you will?”

“Something like that.” He smirks.

No… smiles .

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

Around us, the horses start to spin. The gears creak, filling the silence. Metal grinds as the ride picks up speed, and I stand still in the center with Alex. Surrounded by masks and games, while Alex has torn his off for me.

He’s shown me a sliver of truth. Offered me his voice.

“What’s on your mind?” Alex brushes the side of my face with his knuckles.

It’s rare he lets me touch him, but he has no problem exploring me.

“When we were at your parents’ house earlier, you didn’t say anything to your mom.”

“I have nothing to say to her.”

“ To her , or to anyone?”

“Anyone, I guess.”

“But you talk to me?”

His fingers trail down the side of my neck, pausing at the center of my throat. “You’re not just anyone to me, Mila Bianchi.”

I really don’t know what to make of that, but I hope the darkness in this room hides the blush burning my cheeks.

“Am I the only person you’ve spoken to since your trial?”

Alex nods, and I reach for his hands, which have fallen to his sides. I appreciate that he doesn’t immediately pull away when I lace our fingers together.

“Thank you for trusting me.” I can’t imagine how difficult it is for him or why he decided to hand his trust to me.

But I shift closer, and Alex does the same.

What does it say if trauma draws two people together?

Is this toxic?

Do I care?

We’re both too broken to heal, so it’s not like either of us is searching for someone to make them whole. I’d settle for someone who brings me peace in the madness. Who doesn’t flinch when I accidentally cut them on my sharp edges.

My thumb brushes over the scars on the back of Alex’s hand, and I sift through his darkness. Test the edges to see where mine fit with his.

The carousel spins, and he steps closer so I’m backed against a mirror in the tight walking space.

“The merry-go-round used to be my favorite ride as a kid,” I tell him, tipping my head back against the mirror.

“It was as close as I could get to riding a real horse. It was also the one place where the world could spin out of control, and I’d just spin with it.

It’s ridiculous what kids find comfort in. ”

“Nothing about you is ridiculous to me, Mila. ”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” My lips purse. “But my childhood wasn’t exactly normal. While most teenagers had sports and field trips, I was surrounded by clowns, knives, and balancing acts.”

“I had sports, and maybe I’d have preferred this.” Alex looks past me, through to the bustling carnival on the other side of the glass.

“Why do you say that?”

“I hated playing basketball growing up.” His gaze returns to mine. “Not that anyone noticed when I was so good at pretending. But I hated every second of the game. There were so many eyes on me; I knew that someday they’d see me slip.”

“On the court?”

“In life.” He takes a steady breath. “But it taught me how to hide in plain sight. I guess that was a benefit. And at least basketball was something expected.”

“As opposed to?”

“Everything else.”

It doesn’t take much to understand what he’s referring to. While the Lancasters have money, faith, and the admiration of the town, I can’t imagine that was a blessing after what I saw on their property yesterday. If anything, the pressure must have been insurmountable.

“I don’t understand what it was like to grow up like you did, but I do understand not feeling normal.” I stare up at him. “Growing up with a carnival is as far from typical as it gets. It wasn’t easy making friends.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be close to you?” Alex threads his fingers into the hair at the sides of my head.

“Because I’m so charming?”

“Because you’re everything.” He leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Brilliant. Cunning. All-seeing. You read situations like you read people—without judgment and without fear. You try so hard to close yourself off, but anyone looking close enough would see your heart bursting at the seams.” He presses a palm to my chest. “You’re so fucking strong and willful and honest. I can’t figure out what the fuck you’re doing giving me the time of day. ”

Alex pulls back, not removing his hands, and I’m frozen in place.

That’s the most Alex has ever said to me at one time, and I can’t begin to process it.

I’ve received compliments before. Ones meant to lure me into bed or charm me. But this is nothing like that. It strips me to my core.

“I’m just some girl from Oregon.”

Alex shakes his head. “And I’m just some guy better off ina psychiatric ward.”

“You’re more than that.”

“So are you.”

He dips down to claim me in a kiss, and it’s enough to hand the most important parts of him.

He’s broken, but so am I.

He’s sharp, but I’ve always found comfort in blades and knives.

Alex’s hands drift to my hips and under my thighs until he’s lifting me in his arms. I lock my legs and arms around him, and we kiss to the click of the spinning carousel.

Our lips clash, and my body burns from the inside out.

Cool mint and promises.

I trail my hands from his neck, kneading them over his thick shoulders, slicing my nails softly down the front of his chest. For a moment, he lets me, and I bask in every fractured plane of him .

But when I try dipping my hands lower, Alex breaks the kiss.

There’s always a line or limit. Which is why I find myself holding my breath as I stare into his eyes. A thousand questions swirl at the tip of my tongue.

What will it take for him to let me in?

How can he trust me with his words but not accept my touch?

I’m not brave enough to ask either of those, so I settle on, “What’s wrong?”

He tips his forehead to mine, and I pray to the God Alex doesn’t believe in that he won’t break my heart.

Insecurity breezes through me. “Have you already had enough?”

“For all your strengths, Mila, you really don’t listen.” Alex sets me on my feet.

In a swift move, he spins me around so fast I catch myself with flat palms on the one-way mirror, facing the spinning carousel. The pressure of his cock grinds against my ass as he holds me to it.

“Is there ever getting enough of you?” He kisses the soft flesh beneath my ear, slowly dragging his teeth down the side of my neck.

Through the mirrors, I spot Marco at a different attraction now, with a blonde hanging at his side. “According to some people, yes.”

Alex breathes out a laugh. “I’m referring to anyone with more than one brain cell.”

Glancing at him over my shoulder, I see I’m not the only one who spotted Marco at a distance because Alex is watching him too. There’s something akin to jealousy burning in his gaze.

“Seeing as you have far more than one brain cell, I guess you’ll have to tell me if there is ever any getting enough.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

It’s pathetic for me to let his honesty hurt my feelings, but I hoped he would at least hand me some reassurance at that second.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his hands drift to the hem of my skirt. He brushes off the conversation by distracting me with his touch. His fingers toy with the blade strapped to my thigh, and again, he doesn’t ask me to explain why I wear it.

When his hands slide closer to my center, I reach behind me, needing to feel him like he’s feeling me. But all it does is make him pull away.

“Palms on the glass, Mila.”

My frustration comes out in a grumble that must amuse him because he chuckles. But irritated or not, I do as directed. My body is on fire, and as much as I want to refuse him out of spite, he’s the only one who can sate these embers.

Alex drifts his lips over the shell of my ear, nipping at the lobe. “Feel free to watch your ex while I make you come. I want you to remember he’s never going to have the pleasure of doing this to you himself.”

Irritation spikes in Alex’s tone. Like the thought of me with Marco sets him on edge. I’m tempted to tell Alex I don’t want Marco doing any of this to me. That I’ve never felt anything like this for him. But Alex’s comment from a few moments ago makes me hold my tongue.

“I guess you’ll have to tell me if there is any getting enough.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

So instead of clarifying, I say, “Maybe I will.”

Alex smirks, but there’s no light in it. It’s wicked amusement as he lifts my skirt and hooks his thumbs over my underwear. He drops down behind me, dragging them down my legs. And when I step out of them, he stands, lifting them to his nose to breathe me in.