Page 11 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)

Ryder and I stood in line for the Ferris wheel, the crowd around us sprawling in every direction.

The air was thick with the hum of excitement, the buzz of voices too loud to make out.

Clowns weaved in and out of the crowd, handing out cloud-like cotton candy, their painted faces as familiar to me as my own.

I watched them, my eyes flicking over to the entertainers who threw glowing toys into the air.

The toys flashed in the dimming light, bright against the dark sky as they tried to catch the attention of all the children.

“You want cotton candy?” Ryder asked, his grin playful, though his lips were still stained a pale blue from the slushie he had just finished.

I shook my head, pressing my hand to my belly, already full from the sweet overload. “Nah, I’m stuffed.”

“Oh, come on, Lols. You can’t break tradition.” His voice was teasing, but there was a warmth to it that made it impossible to resist. He knew I’d never say no when he had that look on his face.

“Fine,” I groaned, pretending to reluctantly give in. “I wouldn’t want to jinx us by not getting cotton candy for the Ferris wheel.”

“That’s my girl,” he joked, and even though I knew that’s exactly what it was—a joke—my tummy still tingled with warmth. “Two blue cotton candies, comin’ right up.”

He left me to hold our place in line, my eyes glued to his every movement as he chatted with the clown, the same guy who handed out cotton candy every year.

Without warning, my shoulder was shoved, sending me tumbling forward into the dirt.

My knees hit first, sharp and hard, the ground cold and sticky beneath me as I crashed into the mud.

My palms burned from the impact, embarrassment spreading like fire as I looked up to find Ryder already running toward me.

The shrill, too-high voice of Lemmon Meringue, my bully for as long as I could remember, filled my ears. “Oh, Lola Lima! I am so sorry! I must not’ve seen you when I was walkin’ by. Here, let me help you up,” she said with a thick Southern accent, extending her hand for me to take.

I pushed her hand away, frustration and humiliation twisting inside me. “No, I’ve got it,” I snapped, wiping the dirt off my hands and scowling.

“Lols, you okay?” Ryder asked, his strong hands steadying me as he pulled me to my feet.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, wiping my palms on my denim shorts.

I turned my attention to Lemmon, who greeted me with her version of a bashful smile. “I’m so sorry, Lola. Will you ever forgive me?” she asked, the faux sweetness lacing her voice sickening.

I didn’t have a chance to respond before Mayte was at my side, pinning Lemmon with a look that could freeze water. “You did that on purpose. I saw you!” Mayte roared, coming to my defense as usual.

“Oh, sweet Mayte, it’s really so noble of you to come to your friend's aid, but I promise, I did no such thing,” Lemmon said, fanning her face as if to repress tears.

Mayte opened her mouth, about to say something, but Ryder stepped in.

“She said she’s sorry. Let’s leave it at that and enjoy what’s left of our night, yeah?

” Ryder asked, diffusing the situation before Mayte could start pulling hair and throwing punches.

She might come across as shy at first, but she’s a warrior for the people she cares about.

“Fine. Let’s just go,” I grunted, allowing Ryder to tug me through the moving line, pulling me into a bucket seat and swinging the door closed. He set his eyes on my face, seeing right through the mask of indifference I tried so hard to wear.

“Are you okay, Lols?” he asked, those baby blues never leaving my face as he reached over my lap for the seat belt, clipping me in.

“Yeah, Ry, I am.” The words were choked and small.

I desperately wanted to tell him Lemmon had been bullying me for years.

I wanted to confide in him about this one thing I’d held close to my chest, never telling anyone but Mayte, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

I didn’t want him to think I was weak, and, more than anything, I didn’t want him to fight my battles for me.

I tried every day to remind myself she was a bully because she’d had a harder life than I did, but those words only came as a comfort for so long.

The motor whirred to life, the metal creaking as we began our ascent. His hand slid up my waist to my bare shoulder before cupping my cheek, smoothing a thumb beneath my eye, where I’d unknowingly allowed a tear to fall.

“I’m sorry that happened, baby,” he whispered, unaware of how that word unfurled a cacophony of emotions inside me, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Accidents happen, but it’s still shitty.”

If the word “baby” made me feel whole and ready to spill my guts to him, finally letting him into the darkest valleys where I hid my secrets, the word “accidents” had the complete opposite effect, pushing me to shut down and protect my heart in the best way I knew how: with silence.

His hand dropped, his arm winding around my shoulders to tug me against his chest, the place I’d always felt safest. I reveled in the moment, unsure at the time how much longer we had left like that—not just on the ride, but before he realized I was too terrified to lose him to truly give in to my feelings.

A knock at the door pulls me from the memory, pushing me into the present, where Lemmon is still a bully but holds so much less control over me and my actions. I release a sigh, heading to the door to spend the night at the fair with two of my favorite people.