Page 29 of The Love Bus

A SENSE OF ADVENTURE

T he gondola docked, and we stepped out onto the platform, the park unfolding ahead in a web of winding paths and brightly colored signs.

Like the swing pictured on the brochure, several of the rides were perched dramatically at the edge of the mountain—deliberate choices, no doubt, to make the thrill-seekers question their life choices.

The sun had finally warmed the air, and for the first time on this trip, my vintage sandals actually made sense. Still, I was only half aware of the change in weather. My mind kept jumping around. Honestly, though, there was too much to unpack today.

And maybe that was fine. Because we were here for the views. For the roller coasters. For fun.

Noah glanced over, a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you want to do first?”

I shook my head, already smiling. “Not the swing.”

“Not the swing.” He nodded. “Got it.

And honestly, having shaken off the lingering weight of our conversation, I had more fun in the next few hours than I had had in a very long time. Too long, probably.

We raced down the mountain on the single-person roller coaster, the track twisting through the trees. Noah had gone first, calling back over his shoulder, “Try to keep up, Faraday!” before disappearing over the ridge.

He’d last-named me, but I didn’t mind at all.

Limitless.

The farther I got down the mountain, the more I let up on the brake.

It was fun, being in control, though I did scream. Just a little.

At the end of the track, I hopped up to find Noah, and he easily agreed when I suggested we do it again.

And if quiet, mysterious Noah was sexy—oh, sweet baby carrots—then this version? Laughing, playful, running a hand through that tousled hair? This version was downright illegal. He looked lighter somehow, like he was letting go of something, too.

After that, we spotted a sign advertising cave tours and made it over just in time to get in on the last walking tour of the Fairy Cave. Stepping into the cool, dimly lit entrance, the summer heat melted away behind us. It was like the two of us were stepping into another world.

The guide—a middle-aged woman in a khaki vest with a flashlight clipped to her belt—welcomed our small group and launched into a brief history of the cavern.

Noah and I lingered at the back, still buzzing from the rollercoaster, still catching our breath from laughing.

“You really let go on that second run,” he murmured, leaning down so I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear.

A shiver ghosted down my spine.

I turned my head slightly, and yep, he was closer than I expected. Close enough that I had to focus very hard on forming words. “What can I say? I’m a thrill-seeker now.”

His eyes sparkled. “Ready for the swing next?”

“Maybe,” I said, squinting at him. “You offering to hold my hand?”

He grinned. “If that’s what it takes.”

I bumped his arm with my elbow, trying to laugh it off, but everything about him—his voice, his grin, the way he kept leaning in when he spoke—was starting to get to me.

The guide motioned us forward, deeper into the cavern, and I was suddenly very aware of how narrow the passageway had become. Noah’s hand brushed the small of my back—just a light touch, a reflex maybe, guiding me over uneven ground—but it lingered a moment longer than necessary.

Not that I needed guiding. But friends could guide each other. Nothing wrong with that.

The air inside was damp, and the rock walls shimmered in spots where minerals had collected over time, creating an eerie, otherworldly glow beneath the artificial lighting.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Totally fine.”

Except my pulse was in my throat, and every nerve ending I had was tuned to him.

To the way his shoulder brushed mine, to the casual weight of his hand steadying me when I tripped slightly on a rock.

To the way it all felt exciting. And weirdly natural.

Like we’d done this before.

“So, why is it called the Fairy Cave?” someone asked as we ducked through a passage that opened into a chamber full of delicate stalactites hanging from the ceiling like icicles.

“The original explorers in the late 1800s believed the way the formations sparkled in the lantern light made them look like fairies had dusted the cave in magic.”

I hummed, proving I could actually listen. “I can see that.”

“You believe in fairies, Faraday?” Noah whispered

I gave him a sidelong glance. “I might.” My gran had believed in all kinds of things that were nonsense to my mother but very real and magical to me.

Suddenly, I was grateful for the low lighting, because for seemingly no reason at all, I felt my eyes stinging with tears.

We followed the group deeper, past rippling flowstone formations and pools of crystal-clear water that reflected the cave ceiling like a mirror. At one point, we came to a passage that was so narrow, we had to turn sideways just to squeeze through.

Noah made it easily. I followed more slowly, and just as I slid through to the other side, Noah’s hand caught my wrist, steadying me.

His fingers were warm against my skin.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, more private.

I nodded.

The moment stretched, almost electric, before he let go.

What was happening here? Was he feeling the same pull that I was, or was he in full-on doctor mode, concerned that the woman he’d taken pity on was going to have a meltdown in front of all these people?

Maybe a little of both?

The guide led us into the final chamber, flipping a switch that illuminated the room in a soft golden glow.

The walls were smooth and domed, an underground cathedral sculpted by nature.

I could actually feel the pressure of however many tons of stone were suspended above us, the sheer age of the various rock formations, and the memories of people long dead who had once tread these same pathways.

On top of that, with the glittering walls and the scattered stalactites and stalagmites of all sizes, it was prettier than I had expected.

“This is one of the largest rooms in the cave system,” the guide explained. “In the early 1900s, visitors used to hold concerts and even dances in here.”

The guide motioned for everyone to settle in. “Now, for my favorite part of the tour, I need everyone to make sure your phones are turned off. We’re going to experience total darkness. If you’ve never been in a place with absolutely no light, this is your chance.”

She waited a moment and then flipped a switch.

And suddenly—nothing.

No glow. No shadows. No silhouettes or anything at all.

Just pitch-black darkness.

I stood completely still, my heart pounding in my ears.

Then, something brushed against my fingers.

Noah.

He wasn’t holding my hand, exactly, he was just…there. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, the presence of him, the silent offering of steady contact in a world that had vanished into darkness.

And I didn’t pull away.

For the next few moments, we just stood like that, breathless and blind.

Then the lights snapped back on, and Noah was already half a step away.

Later, after the tour of the caves had finished, we went back to the main area and found some snacks—warm pretzels with mustard, and an unnecessary but absolutely delicious bag of fried Oreos.

We wandered through a tiny gift shop, where I picked out a collection of smooth stones, filling a little drawstring bag with Glenwood Caverns stitched into the fabric.

“Max and Blakey will love these,” I said, already picturing my nephews dumping the stones onto the kitchen table like treasure.

“Max and Blakey?” Noah asked.

“My nephews. Seven-year-old twins.” I smiled. “I promised them Auntie Looney would bring back some ‘zoobineers.’”

“Auntie Looney?”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been Auntie Looney since they could talk. Technically, since I was born. My sister, Ashley, was four when I came home from the hospital. She was hooked on Looney Tunes at the time. The nickname stuck.”

He let out a soft laugh, but there was something in his eyes, like he was making sure it was okay to laugh. “Does it bother you?”

I shook my head. “Usually, no. I mean, she’s my big sister. She’s allowed to call me things no one else can.” I paused, feeling a little twist in my chest. “And it’s okay. I always know Ash loves me for me.”

Noah nodded, his gaze dropping for a second. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sibling.” His faint smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His meaning settled in slowly. It wasn’t just about wanting a brother or sister. It was about not having one . About growing up without a built-in ally. About being the only one there to carry the weight.

His mom had raised him alone. That much I knew. He’d needed her, but now, it was kind of obvious that she needed him. There was no one else.

And that kind of expectation? That kind of responsibility.

That would shape a person.

Before I could think of what to say, he glanced around at the thinning crowd. “Park’s emptying out.”

Not long until closing time then. The once-busy paths were quieting, families heading toward the gondola station, the energy of the place winding down.

“One more ride?” he asked, and the way he said it—low, a little rebelliously—made my pulse skip.

I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

And since a more daring version of myself had temporarily possessed me, I didn’t even flinch when he led me straight to the canyon swing.

The one from the TikTok video.

“All right, I know you said you weren’t interested in this one, but come on, when are you gonna get a chance like this again?” Noah grinned as he tugged me along.

I didn’t really get the thrill-seeking stuff, not exactly, but he was looking carefree and excited again. And come on, Luna, it’s just a swing.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. We could always find something else.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Let’s do it.”

The ride operator was leaning against the control panel, checking his watch when we arrived.

“You guys are just in time for the last ride of the night.” He gestured toward the swing—a cluster of bright red and yellow seats, suspended under a large metal structure that was anchored right at the edge of the cliff.

In the distance, I could hear cars on the highway, the same one we’d passed over earlier.

There would be nothing between us and a deadly fall except a plastic-covered metal bar.

My stomach fluttered, but I ignored it. I was bold. Fearless.

Limitless.

I can do this.

Four seats were situated back-to-back, two of them facing out toward the canyon while the other two were facing the mountainside.

I wasn’t sure which option would be more terrifying.

Deciding to follow Noah’s lead, I climbed after him, settling into a pair of mountain-facing seats, and the operator pulled the big lap bars down, first mine, then Noah’s.

There was nobody else to take the seats on the other side.

A few seconds later, the ride started moving.

At first, it was fine. Gentle. A simple swing, but with the added hiss of hydraulic pressure pushing us forward and then back, a little higher and faster each time.

Hiss…Whoosh!

A little— hoo boy! The push on that one was definitely…a bit…

Oh, no. I stared at the top of the mountain, and then as that dropped away, up into the great expanse of blue beyond it as we seemed to hover at the end of the arc, our backs parallel to the ground.

A hiss, the safety bar digging into my stomach as our momentum shifted, and?—

Whoosh!

Oh, God. It was like we were shoved straight back down out of the sky. The mountainside blurred into the platform, and then the earth dropped away.

We were hanging over the canyon, feet dangling straight out in front of us.

Oh.

I clutched at the hydraulic lap bar, suddenly aware that it was the only thing keeping me in my seat; there was no backup safety harness or seatbelt, just—pressure? How did these things even work? Surely, they wouldn’t use it if it wasn’t safe, but…

I didn’t know if I trusted it quite this much.

Then we were swinging back the other way, the rush so intense I could’ve sworn I left my stomach behind. The ground flashed beneath our feet, and then it was gone. All I could see was the sky and a few puffy clouds, the height dizzying.

Dear God, we were practically upside-down.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ohmygod, oh f-fudge. No. No. No.” I was only vaguely aware that I was chanting, half-whimpering in fear.

Noah grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You’ve got this, Faraday.”

I let out a little moan, unable to form rational thought, clinging to him for dear life.

We swung back over the cliffside again, the force pressing me into the bar, my breath catching as I was launched into the open air.

“Eeek!”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “Come on, open your eyes.”

I cracked one open.

The world stretched out beneath us, the canyon bathed in deep blue shadows, the last streaks of sunset painting the horizon. It was?—

Okay, fine.

It was breathtaking.

And also terrifying.

I exhaled, my grip loosening just a little.

Noah turned his head slightly, close enough that I could see the slant of his smirk. “Told you it’d be fun.”

“Well,” I said. “If there’s no risk, it’s just existing.”