Carnival-- Jane Harvey-Berrick(ang.)

Table of Contents click here CARNIVAL Books by Jane Harvey-Berrick Dedication Prologue Chapter 1—Heredity Chapter 2—Evolving Chapter 3—Logan-stone Chapter 4—Turbulence Chapter 5—Elemental Chapter 6—Recognition Chapter 7—Surrender Chapter 8—Kinetic Chapter 9—Energy Chapter 10—Luck Chapter 11—Tracasserie Chapter 12—Ekistics Chapter 13—Roundabout Chapter 14—Revolutions Chapter 15—Options Chapter 16—Logistics Chapter 17—Lepton Chapter 18—Equalize Chapter 19—Radius Chapter 20—Coulomb

Chapter 21—Ochone Chapter 22—Adversity Chapter 23—Steading Chapter 24—Troublous Chapter 25—Erratum Chapter 26—Renewal Epilogue Reviews MORE ABOUT JHB Acknowledgements

Carnival Copyright © 2017 Jane Harvey-Berrick This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you do, you are STEALING. I support my family through my writing. Pirate copies are illegal, and you’ve really spoiled my day. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Jane Harvey-Berrick has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. Jane Harvey-Berrick has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work. ISBN 978–1-912015–94–8 Harvey Berrick Publishing www.janeharveyberrick.com Editing by Kirsten Olsen Cover design by Hang Le / www.byhangle.com

Interior design and formatting by Christine Borgford / www.typeAformatting.com

The Traveling Series All the fun of the fair . . . and two worlds collide The Traveling Man (Traveling series #1) The Traveling Woman (Traveling series #2) Roustabout (Traveling series #3) Carnival (Traveling series #4) The Traveling Series (Boxed Set)

The Education Series An epic love story spanning the years, through war zones and more . . . The Education of Sebastian (Education series #1) The Education of Caroline (Education series #2) The Education of Sebastian & Caroline (combined edition, books 1 & 2) Semper Fi: The Education of Caroline (Education series #3)

The Rhythm Series Blood, sweat, tears and dance Slave to the Rhythm (Rhythm series #1) Luka (Rhythm series #2)

The EOD Series Blood, bombs and heartbreak

Tick Tock (EOD series #1—coming soon) Bombshell (EOD series #2—coming soon) With Stuart Reardon Undefeated (January 2018) Model Boyfriend (Fall 2018) For standalone titles, click here

To the child in all of us

Contents CARNIVAL Books by Jane Harvey-Berrick Dedication Prologue Chapter 1—Heredity Chapter 2—Evolving Chapter 3—Logan-stone Chapter 4—Turbulence Chapter 5—Elemental Chapter 6—Recognition Chapter 7—Surrender Chapter 8—Kinetic Chapter 9—Energy Chapter 10—Luck Chapter 11—Tracasserie Chapter 12—Ekistics Chapter 13—Roundabout Chapter 14—Revolutions Chapter 15—Options Chapter 16—Logistics Chapter 17—Lepton Chapter 18—Equalize Chapter 19—Radius Chapter 20—Coulomb Chapter 21—Ochone Chapter 22—Adversity

Chapter 23—Steading Chapter 24—Troublous Chapter 25—Erratum Chapter 26—Renewal Epilogue Reviews More books by JHB MORE ABOUT JHB Acknowledgements

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I was nearing Missoula when the phone rang. I’d covered a lot of miles today, driving the eightwheeler across the rolling plains of Montana, the sharp silhouettes of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. Our destination was the County Fairgrounds. It was one of the smaller places that we played, but I liked that. I got a buzz out of bringing our show to small-town folk. They always gave us a great reception when they saw Donohue’s Daredevils roll into town. Well, except for the people who thought carnies were trailer trash. These days, I couldn’t afford to get into anything with fucktards like that, so I walked away. Mostly. The Western Montana Fair was a big date on the locals’ calendar. We’d played there for the last two years, and I loved the soaring skies and wide open spaces. Outside my air conditioned cab, the early June weather was hotter than a furnace, and the blacktop shimmered and danced like a mirage in the desert. I glanced down as my cell started playing Daddy Yankee and Mirelle’s name flashed up.

Damn, it was good to hear from her—it had been nearly three weeks since we last talked, much longer since we’d managed to get together. I took the call on my hands-free cell, in a cradle on the dashboard, grinning as her east coast accent with a Puerto Rican lilt filled the cab. “Hey, beautiful! How you doin’?” There was a short pause. “I’m pregnant. It’s not yours.”

One week later . . . I watched the flames leap and dance, sending a shower of sparks into the sky as one of the logs caught light. Even though the daytime temperatures had soared into the nineties, it was considerably cooler now and everyone gathered around the circle of fire. It was a carnie tradition that went way back, signaling the end of another day. Tonight was special because it was the penultimate night at this pitch, and our last chance to take it easy for a few days. The final night was always crazy busy because it was a jump day— which meant that all the roustabouts were taking down the carnival rides and packing everything back into the rigs, then driving through the night to get to the next town by morning, to set up for the following afternoon, when the whole cycle started over again. In fact, the 24-Hour Man had already left. He was the guy who went ahead, signposting the way for the rest of us to follow. It may not sound important, but you don’t want fifteen eight-

wheelers getting stuck or ending up driving down a one lane road to the wrong field. So tonight was our night—our time to kick back, relax, and visit with other carnies. “Bro, you look like someone just kicked your dog. What’s up with you? You’ve been a pain in my ass all week.” Tucker left the others by the fire and squatted down beside me, ignoring the fuck-off vibes I’d been giving everyone else. “What’s eating you, man? Tell Uncle Tucker all about it.” Tucker was a year younger than me, but sometimes he acted like a teenager and spoke like a California surfer, if you ignored his Tennessee accent. We were all like that in the carnival— mongrels who didn’t call any place home, but everywhere was our kingdom and the road was our right. He sighed when I didn’t reply and threw an arm around my shoulder. “I know about Mirelle. Tough break, brother.” I shot him an angry glance and he pulled a face. “Mirelle called Aimee, Aimee told Kes, and well . . . you know how it goes.” Yeah. I knew. Kes and Tucker were my family, my blood brothers—cut one, we all bleed. We didn’t keep secrets. And since Mirelle was Aimee’s best friend, I’d expected the news to circulate

faster than it had. Perhaps she’d thought I’d tell them myself. I should have, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want their pity. “She wasn’t right for you,” Tucker said softly. “I like Mirelle, but she wasn’t going to make it as a carnie. She has roots and that big ole Puerto Rican family back on the East Coast.” I knew he was right, but the sharp cut of disillusionment was hard to take. Aimee had lived out East and she’d followed Kes to the carnival; Tucker’s woman flew out to see him every couple of weeks. Why couldn’t that work for me? I shrugged off his arm and stood up. I was ready to walk away when a thought stopped me in my tracks. “Did she tell Aimee who the father is?” “Yeah.” He stared down at the dirt, idly pushing his fingers through the tough, brown grass. “Some dude who teaches at the same school.” Figured. Suddenly Kes rose to his feet. Everyone stopped talking and we all turned to face him. He stood with the fire at his back, the flames dancing behind as he faced us. His people, his family. “I’ve got some news I want to share with you,” he said. “Perhaps I’d better say that we’ve got some news to share with you.”

He smiled at Aimee as she walked to his side, her eyes glowing with love as she looked at him, and he slid his arm around her waist. “We’re going to be parents. By January, there’ll be a new little carnie joining the family.” Yells and cheers rose from the carnies around the fire, then Tucker called out, “Oh my God! Does that mean you’ve been having sex?” “No, it’s an immaculate conception, dufus,” I muttered, slapping him around the back of the head. Aimee shot Tucker a look that said he’d be paying for his dumb joke later. Everyone crowded around offering congratulations. “A new little stunt rider for the family business?” asked one of the carnies. Kes shrugged, his whole body lit with happiness as men slapped him on the back or shook hands, and women kissed him on the cheek. Aimee was surrounded with her own admirers, smiling and laughing, glowing with joy as she turned to look at Kes to hear his answer. “Our kid can be whatever he wants.” “So, it’s a boy?” “Maybe. We don’t know yet.” When the crowd around them thinned, I walked over to give Aimee a kiss on the cheek. Then I

turned to Kes. “Congratulations, man. That’s great news.” “Thanks, Zef. I appreciate it. And I wanted to ask you—Aimee wants the baby to be Christened, something old school, you know? So I was wondering if you’d be Godfather.” That was the last thing I’d been expecting. I wasn’t the kind of guy that a kid could look up to. Kes read the doubt on my face and laughed. “I’m going to ask Tucker, too. So the kid will need at least one Godfather who’s not completely crazy.” I grinned at him. “Well, when you put it that way . . . I’m the lesser of two evils?” “Something like that.” His voice sobered. “So, will you do it? If anything happened to me and Aimee . . .” he swallowed, a flicker of fear on his face, “if anything happened, I’d want to know that I could count on you.” “Fuck, man, nothing’s gonna happen to you!” “Yeah, but it could. We both know . . . we know it could and . . . I need you to say it, man. I need to know that you’d be there. If I hadn’t had Dono to take care of me and Con, I’d have been in a fucking foster home. ” I rubbed my hand across of my face. “Of course. Of course I’d do it—anything.” I stuck out my hand and he shook it before

pulling me into a swift hug. “Thanks, Zef.” I nodded, then asked the question that had been burning me since he’d made his announcement. “Are you scared . . . about being a father?” Kes cocked his head to one side, thinking about it. “Nah, I couldn’t fuck it up as bad as Mom the alcoholic or dear ole dad who barely knew I existed, or cared. Anyway, I’ve got Aimee to keep me straight.” He grinned and turned to accept more congratulations from other carnies. I walked away, surprised by the emotions I was feeling. Kes, a father! That was some pretty serious shit. Coming on top of Mirelle’s news, I was feeling off kilter. I tried not to picture her with a guy who wore a collared shirt to work, some nice, safe townie who’d give her security. But she deserved that. She deserved more than a tatted up wiseass who jumped motorcycles for a living—a man with a criminal record who’d served time in prison. Someone walked over my grave and a shiver ran down my spine. I’d cleaned up my act since then and I wasn’t ever going back. And I meant what I’d said to Kes: if anything happened to him and Aimee, I’d take care of their

kid. Fuck knows what kind of parent I’d be, but he’d asked me and I’d sure as hell try. The breeze had picked up since sunset and I could see the tops of the distant trees swaying blackly against the rising moon. The Ferris wheel was still and silent, a towering monument to man’s desire for mindless pleasure. It didn’t go anywhere, it didn’t do anything—except give the illusion of movement. And wasn’t that what the carnival was all about? Cheap thrills for a few bucks before moving on to the next small town. And yet, even with the existence of Netflix, tablets and smartphones, people still came, searching for a little of that stardust, that illusive magic, the freewheeling world of the carnies. Maybe that was what made it so unreal: we’d arrive in the half-light of dawn, and by the evening a world of bright neon and music erupted from an empty field. A few days of eating cotton candy and corndogs, a few moments of adrenaline as you were whirled around the Tilt-A-Whirl or rode the bumper cars, and then we’d vanish in the night, leaving patches of flattened grass and an empty field. I pushed my hands into my jean pockets and stared up at the moon as if it had called my name. How many years did I have before my body broke down, before my knees or ankles or spine couldn’t take it anymore, when throwing myself through the air on 200 pounds of metal no longer

seemed like a good idea? Then what? What would my life be then? “The Cheyenne tell a story that the moon was held by a warring tribe, so a pair of antelope tried to rescue the moon and take it to a good village. But Coyote, the trickster, decides to make trouble and the antelope chase him. Coyote tosses the moon into a river each night, just out of reach of the antelope.” I didn’t turn around as Ollo spoke. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, old man?” I heard his soft chuckle behind me, a wheezing hiccupping laugh. “Nope, it’s just a story about the moon.” “Great, thanks for that. Very educational.” He sat down behind me, ignoring the obvious message that I didn’t want company. I felt a soft tug on my pants leg as Bo started to climb me like a jungle gym, nestling into me and throwing his thin arms around my neck, chattering in my ear. “Damn monkey doesn’t know when he’s not wanted,” I grumbled, supporting Bo’s tiny fury body as he snuggled into my chest. Ollo laughed again. “I’d say he knows exactly when he’s wanted. Capuchin’s are smart critters—smarter than most damn humans.”

I sighed, knowing I wasn’t getting any alone time tonight. I sat down on the bone-dry dirt next to Ollo, smiling as Bo took his chance to go scampering off into the darkness. For a moment, I listened to him rustling in the tall grasses at the side of the swingboats and I leaned against the canvas backdrop of the Ghost Train. When I was a kid back in Georgia, I used to try and sneak in under the canvas without paying when the carnival came to town. Sometimes I made it, and sometimes I got dragged out by a hard-faced carnie and sent packing with a smack to the back of the head. It didn’t matter how many times that happened, I always snuck back. I was fascinated by the mechanics, all of those big machines whipping you into the air or speeding around in circles. I hadn’t heard of hydraulics or knew anything about the physics of gravity, but I loved the dirt and grease behind the scenes, and the rides that made people laugh and scream. Now, I could take a ghost ride anytime I wanted, but I never did. I sighed, wondering if the carnival would ever feel magical to me again. “Good news about Kes and Aimee—new life. A child will keep the carnival alive.” I nodded, but I wasn’t sure that Ollo was right.

It was a hard life, the traveling carnival, and many of the smaller outfits had shut down or gone out of business. I knew as well as anyone that there were no guarantees in life, but I hoped Ollo was right. “Yeah, I’m happy for them.” I watched a shooting star shimmer across the sky, wondering what the world had in store for me, wondering if fate was planning some new torture. “She wasn’t right for you, Zef.” Ollo’s voice broke and squeaked like a twelve year-old boy, although his body was no taller than the average seven year-old. Ollo was a dwarf and had lived his whole life in a traveling carnival. He’d done every job from clowning to tumbling, fire-eating and fire-breathing to knife-thrower and rodeo rider, fairground barker to roustabout, and everything in between. He was old now; no one knew how old, probably not even Ollo, but he’d been with Kes’s family since the second world war, so he must be at least eighty. He probably weighed no more than ninety pounds. I could have picked him up and tossed him over my shoulder without a problem, but I had too much respect for him to do something like that. So I sat back and listened to what he had to tell me. “You’re the second person tonight to say that Mirelle wasn’t right for me,” I said, my voice wry. Ollo spit a stream of tobacco juice onto the

hard-packed soil, aiming at one of the iron tent pegs. “Are you surprised? Her family has uprooted once—she wasn’t going to do it again. Not for you.” “Feel free to sugarcoat it!” “Aw, is the big, tough stunt rider feelin’ sorry for hisself?” I shook my head. “Nah. Just pissed that she was seeing someone else and didn’t tell me.” There was a long silence and in the distance I could hear the sound of Luke’s guitar playing. “I had a woman once,” Ollo said softly. “Long time ago.” His voice was quiet and it sounded like a confession. “She wasn’t like me,” he said. “She was a townie, a petite lil’ thing. Delicate all over, tiny waist. Taller than me, of course. We were in Boise for the summer and it was the swinging sixties. She had long straight hair, golden brown, the color of corn. I was a rodeo clown in those days, and she’d come to see the ponies. We got talking and became friends. I’d wait for her to come for me at night. We’d hold hands and sit watching the stars from the top of the Ferris wheel. We fell in love.” “Sounds . . . nice?” “Yeah, it was. She was going to come with me

at the end of the summer,” he chuckled quietly. “Run away and join the circus.” “But she changed her mind?” Ollo shook his head. “I don’t know. One night, she didn’t come. I waited every night, knowing that soon we’d be moving on. I went to look for her. In the town.” I stared up at Ollo’s stars, knowing that this story didn’t have a happy ending. I imagined how brave he’d have to be, leaving the carnies—his people—to go look for this girl among strangers, among townies. “I didn’t find her, but her father found me. Gave me what they used to call a damn good beatdown, and told me he wouldn’t let a deformed freak like me near his daughter. I don’t know if she’d been sent away or whether she was locked in her room, listening to her father whip me with his belt as I kicked and screamed and tried everything to fight him off. I always wondered about that.” “Jesus, Ollo!” My voice was quiet, shocked, and he was silent for a moment. “You never saw her again?” “Ah, but I did. Ten years later, we were in Boise again doing the northern circuit. By then, the music was louder and angrier. We were all trying to forget about Vietnam, and everything seemed a little wilder. Borders were breaking down, and even

the townie boys were starting to wear their hair long. That’s when I saw her. She was with a rube and they had two kids—a boy and a girl, maybe seven or eight years old. They had her eyes, I remember that. She saw me watching her and she stared back. She smiled at me, then she turned and walked away.” His voice disappeared, lost in memories. “That was the last time I saw her. I never tried anything with a townie again.” “What was her name?” “Jeanie. Jeanie with the light brown hair.” I heard the soft patter of Bo’s footsteps, and he appeared out of the darkness, his tiny body curling into Ollo’s arms as he chirruped quietly. I watched Ollo stroke the soft gray-and-white fur. “Am I supposed to take some deep meaning from that story?” I asked, hoping to lighten the mood. Ollo coughed out a laugh. “Nope, just a story about a boy and a girl under the stars.” And then, as silently as he’d arrived, he stood up and walked away, Bo still cradled in his arms. I leaned back against the canvas, thinking about everything he’d said. If I was honest with myself, I’d known from the start that me and Mirelle wouldn’t last, but it still stung that she’d obviously

been with this other guy for a while. And that she’d picked someone who was the complete opposite of me. I didn’t have any trouble hooking up with women who wanted a one-night stand with a biker carnie, but even I had to admit that had gotten old. And now Kes was married and about to become a father, and Tucker lived half the year with his woman in LA. Everything was changing. I’d had a family once—Mom, Dad, and a little brother. I still had my brother, but he was a man full grown now, successful and living his own life. He didn’t need me anymore, and he definitely didn’t need the shit I’d brought to his door. It was better that I kept moving, kept those wheels rolling. The other Daredevils were my brothers too, but now they all had partners and I was on the outside again. Sometimes it felt so damn lonely.

I grabbed a piece of funnel cake as I passed the stall, licking the sugar from my fingers and winked at Maddie when she pretended to scold me. Despite the heat that bleached the sky a burning white, the midway was jammed as townies made the most of our final day in Missoula. Tonight we’d be packing up and heading west for one more stop by the shores of Moses Lake in Washington state. After that, we’d head south to our base at Pomona in So Cal. We played there July through November, took a winter break, and started touring again in the spring. I loved being on the road although our most spectacular stunts were reserved for the arena at Pomona, where we regularly filled ten thousand seats. In truth, we could have made a ton more money staying at Pomona year round, but Kes had carnie blood in his veins, and he longed for the open road as much as I did. Only his promise to give his wife a permanent base had made him take the Pomona gig. It was a compromise of sorts. I guess love will do that to you. I frowned as I thought of Mirelle. I missed her.

Not that we’d ever spent more than a few days together at any one time, but I missed being a part of something bigger than myself. I shook my head at the thought, Must be getting old. I wasn’t sure when thirty-two started to feel old, but my damn knee was aching today. A year ago, I’d had an op for a torn cruciate ligament. It had healed, but some days . . . A woman with dyed red hair and a heavily made-up face caught my eye, or rather her tits did. She might as well serve them up on a plate, the way they were spilling out of her halter top. She licked her lips trying to be sexy but her obvious moves didn’t do anything for me anymore. Been there, done that, got the penicillin shot. I ignored her, nodding at the carnies as I passed by the various games, rides, slides, stalls and sideshows: a booth selling cotton candy in pink, white and blue; hoopla; tilt-a-whirl and helterskelter; bumper cars; the shooting gallery; Drown the Clown, smirking at the way Sid razzed the audience standing in front of his dunk tank; the tiny tots’ carousel with lions, ponies, giraffes and unicorns, playing old fashioned Vaudeville music; and at one of the games, the barker pretended to knock some balls into the midway, asking a group of kids who were passing by to pick them up for him. It was an old trick to get the rubes talking, because talking led to playing the game and

spending money. It was loud and chaotic and different from any other way of life. And in the last few years, it had become my home. But I turned and looked over my shoulder, feeling separate from the families, kids and groups of teenagers. At the far end of the midway, the Ferris wheel was silhouetted against the stark sky, and I stared up, wondering if it was the same one that Ollo had taken his girl on all those years ago. We weren’t that far from Boise— her kids and grandkids could be here right now. I wondered if I’d be like Ollo one day, still on the road no matter how old or bent over I became. Or maybe I’d crash doing a stunt, and end up at the Pearly Gates backwards in a ball of fire. Zach said that red-tape was killing traveling carnivals like this one. So maybe we wouldn’t be on the road forever, but I hoped we would. It would be a sad day when we couldn’t bring a little magic to these small communities, putting stars in the eyes of those kids. I shook my head. Fuck it. Time to get ready for the show. A spark of adrenaline coursed through me. You’re not dead yet, Colton. The mini arena had two jumps criss-crossing in the center, straw bales soaked in water and a fireretardant foam making up a safety perimeter along with the metal barrier, and bleachers on two sides.

We used to let people stand around the perimeter but health and safety had nixed that, so these days if you didn’t get a seat in the bleachers, we couldn’t sell you a ticket. Tucker was waiting for me when I showed up at the rig to change into my fireproof leather motorcycle armor. “You’re late, loser,” he grinned. That was Tucker’s way of cheering me up. Guy was kind of a dick, but he had my back and I trusted him. “I can’t help it if you miss me all of the time. I keep telling you to go jerk off some knuckle babies instead.” “Aw, you’re just sore ‘cause I’m prettier’n you are.” “Yeah, cuts me up inside not to have your cute blond bangs, Hannah Montana.” “I knew it,” he laughed. “How the hell Tera puts up with your motor mouth is a mystery,” I grumbled. “I’m blessed, brother,” he said smiling, but with a serious look in his eyes. “Quit talking about my sister and that joker,” said Kes, striding toward us. He hadn’t been totally happy about his sister and Tucker getting together, but he knew that Tucker worshipped the ground Tera walked on, and for some reason that evaded logic, she seemed to

think the same about him. “Where’s Luke?” “Checking the flooded fuel plug on his bike again,” Tucker frowned. “But now he’s got a problem with the gear sticking in neutral. He’s checking the linkage of the gear shift, but it’s the third time this week that it’s happened. He says he needs an auto parts store—Zach’s hooking him up when we get to Moses Lake.” Most repairs could be done on the road, but sometimes we had to call on the assistance of a fullservice auto shop. Kestrel nodded briefly then turned to look at me. “You good, Zef?” I nodded as he studied me intensely. If he’d thought for a second that I wasn’t at the top of my game, he’d have pulled me from the show. We took risks every damn day, but only calculated ones. He rubbed his lower back thoughtfully. It had become a habitual gesture since he’d crushed one of his vertebrae a couple of years back. The docs had said that he’d never walk again, but what did they know? They also said he shouldn’t ride bikes again let alone perform stunts. But a man has to have a reason to live and we’ve all got to die some time. I tugged my t-shirt over my head, toed off my boots and dropped my jeans on the dusty grass.

My leathers were hanging inside out on a line where I’d left them last night. Other than my bikes, they were the most expensive things I owned. Alpinestars was one of the best brands you could buy, but with the hard life they had and the amount of money they cost, I took extra special care of them. I couldn’t just stick them in a washing machine—I had to remove the bio armor, use baby wipes and Nikwax to get rid of the grime and funky smell, dry them in the sun, then sponge on a leather conditioner, mindful of the stretch Kevlar panels. My boots, helmet and gloves were dried after every performance using a portable air dryer. It was a boring end-of-show routine that you couldn’t skip. I smeared on some fire-resistant gel that Tucker had already mixed in a bucket, spreading it over my wrists, neck and face, as well as over my leathers, all the vulnerable spots. It was freakin’ amazing shit —you could literally hold a blowtorch to your skin and you wouldn’t get burned. Not that we did that stunt in front of the crowd of rubes—Zach would have thrown a fit about our insurance premiums. And you know, no matter how many times you say, ‘Don’t try this at home, folks!’, someone always does. Luke jogged over, red in the face and sweaty. “Moses Lake can’t come soon enough,” he said. “Those sticking gears are driving me insane.”

“I thought your boyfriend was doing that,” Tucker smirked. “I heard that,” said Zach, slapping the back of Tucker’s head as he strolled across with Ollo. “I just got an email from a journalist who’s driving out from Spokane to write a review of the show.” “She’s coming a long way to see you guys,” said Ollo with a grin, “so maybe you should just wear pants and helmets today—give her some eyecandy to watch.” Zach rolled his eyes but didn’t argue with Ollo. We all groaned. Not that we cared about showing a little skin, but it meant that we had to put the fire-resistant gel over the whole top half of our bodies, and that stuff was damn sticky when you tried to wash it off. And, of course, we had a lot less protection if we were dumb enough or unlucky enough to crash our bikes. “Come on!” Zach laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, whatever. Give the lady a show. And some of the boys.” He winked at Luke. “Want me to do your gel for you?” he asked. Luke nodded, his eyes closing, a small smile on his face as Zach rubbed the gel all over him. “Want to do me, baby?” Tucker asked me, making a kissy face that was asking to be punched. “Fuck off.” Tucker just laughed and slapped a load of gel

on my back so it dripped onto my briefs. “Just protecting your ass,” he smirked, dodging out of the way of my swinging fist. Zach rolled his eyes. “When are you going to grow up, Tucker?” “Where’s the fun in that?” A few minutes later we were all greased up and wearing just our boots and leather pants when Zach brought over the reporter lady. He introduced Kes first as “world recordbreaking stunt rider Kestrel Donohue,” followed by Tucker, Luke and me. She asked a few questions and recorded Kes’s replies on her phone. Kes was a performer from birth and showman at heart, so he knew exactly what to say to get Ms. Scroggins of The Spokesman-Review. “This isn’t just a bunch of men riding sports bikes,” he said, his eyes staring into hers, mesmerizing her the way a snake hypnotizes a rabbit. “This is where we challenge the known physics of the universe; we perform stunts that defy gravity. We throw ourselves through the air, making the impossible beautiful. We put the magic back into people’s lives.” Her eyes were large as she spoke, and I could see her falling a little in love with him. Like most women. “Obviously it’s dangerous,” she pressed, “so

my readers will want to know what drives you to do it. How have you all found a love and passion for risking your lives?” she breathed. Kes was serious. “I can only speak for myself: I was born to it. Performing is the only thing I’ve ever done or ever wanted to do. It was on ponies when I was a kid; now it’s on dirt bikes.” Tucker gave her a big smile. “Riding a motorcycle is the most fun you can have with your clothes on, and one of the two things I’m best at.” The journalist dutifully recorded his answer but her cheeks were flushed, and I threw Tucker a look. “What about you?” she asked, turning to Luke. “I like bikes,” he said shyly, dropping his eyes to the ground to avoid her gaze. “And you, Zef?” “Same as Luke. I like bikes.” She frowned slightly. “Do you like the danger?” Kes knew that I wasn’t going to be answering that any time soon, so he diverted the attention back to himself. “Do you want to know the most dangerous thing that I’ve ever done?” he asked, leaning towards her and lowering his voice. “More dangerous than breathing fire, more dangerous than eating fire, more dangerous than turning

somersaults on a two-hundred pound motorcycle over a torch of flaming oil, more dangerous than any of those things?” “Well, yes!” “I fell in love.” He winked at her and walked away, pulling on his helmet as Zach stepped forward and filled her in on some of the technical aspects, handing her a flyer of our dates in Moses Lake. I shook my head in amusement. Kes knew how to work a crowd—even a crowd of one. I stretched my neck and shook out my arms as I mentally prepared myself for our show, getting in the zone, thinking about the moves, imagining the ramps in my mind. However Kes spun it, describing the magic, one momentary lapse of concentration, and any one of us could be carried out of there in a body bag. We practiced the hell out of the routines, but the end of a long tour like the one we’d been on was when accidents were most likely to happen. I needed to center myself. I pulled on my helmet, an icy detached calm flowing through me, an intense focus where I separated my emotions from my actions. Music started thumping through the speakers, the primitive drumbeat from the Terminator themetune: du-duh duh du-duh, so loud that you could feel it in your bones, through the hard packed earth

beneath your feet, in your brain and in your blood. Kes’s bike screamed out into the arena, a flaming torch held above his head. Tucker, Luke and I followed, each carrying unlit torches, circling each other like gladiators, until our unlit torches met the flames of Kes’s torch and a jet of fire leapt forty feet into the air. The crowd yelled and clapped and the show had begun. I raced up the steepest ramp, hurling my body and bike into a handlebar handstand and landing with a bounce on the far side, watching out of the corner of my eye as Tucker performed a onehanded rail grab, as if he was riding a skateboard, not 200 pounds of burning metal. Then Luke charged up the largest jump, performing a onehanded handstand, his palm planted in the center of the seat. Kes followed with a leap where no part of him was touching the bike, and the crowd screamed, some of them covering their eyes until he’d landed safely. Each stunt, each jump, each leap of faith ramped up the action and the danger, until all four of us were airborne together, synchronizing handstands and somersaults. Those were the most dangerous, because if the first rider landed it wrong, the second was going down, no question. Our bodies shone in the sunlight, the fireresistant gel making us gleam like bronze statues,

the tattoos on my arms kingfisher bright. We spun, leapt, cartwheeled. We flew, challenging gravity, just like Kes had said. And each time it seemed as though we’d reached the limit of what a body of blood and bones could do, we went further, muscles screaming, tendons in our necks standing out like cords. It was hot and dirty and sexy, and I knew from experience that women were getting just as hot and having sexy, dirty thoughts about all of us. What a fuckin’ rush. Then I lit the flames in a giant torch set up between the ramps, and as one, we raced our bikes up, up, up as the fire licked across our flesh, doing the impossible, living the unbelievable, once more defying fate as the four of us were airborne together. We were gods out there and nothing could touch us. As the show ended, Kes howled like a demon, sending chills through the sweating audience. It wasn’t an act: it was raw and feral and we each felt it in every cell of our bodies. Primeval, inhuman, invincible. We raced from that arena more alive, more alight, more aware of our beating hearts, of the blood that boiled in our bodies than anyone else in the universe. And when Kes vaulted from his bike and tugged off his helmet, tossing it beside the rig, he

didn’t speak when he grabbed his wife by the hand and dragged her off to the RV. Luke disappeared with Zach, and Tucker and I were left alone, sweating our adrenaline and burning testosterone. He gave me a wry smile and shook his head, fumbling for his cell phone in the pile of clothes that he’d been wearing before the show, and I knew he was going to call his woman. And probably have phone sex so scorching that it melted his handset. I had no one, and my heart thundered in silence.

Wiping sweat from my eyes, I limped back to the rig and pulled out a bottle of tepid water that I’d left in the shade. Cold water could made me sick if I drank it too soon after a show. I don’t know why. I was dog tired, but energy slithered under my skin, searching for a release. Feeling like this is the reason that rock stars keep groupies on hand. Since being part of Donohue’s Daredevils, we’d all had our share of dirt-bike groupies, but when I met Mirelle I’d given them up and the thought of going back to that wasn’t appealing anymore. We used the rig as a divider from our living area: on one side of it stood the RVs and Zach’s truck, and on the other side a private area where we could get changed. Sighing, I peeled off my leather pants and stood buck naked under an outdoor shower that Tucker had rigged up. I could have used the one in our RV, but I didn’t want to go there and hear Kes and Aimee fucking like the world just ended. I let the cold water pour over my head, closing my eyes as it cascaded across my face. And then the hairs on the back of my neck

stood up with the feeling that someone was watching me. I washed the soap out of my eyes and looked around. I couldn’t see anyone, but I could feel them. Somewhere out there in the trees, watching. I was too tired to give a damn. I stroked my balls lazily as I washed them, hoping that the reporter wasn’t coming back for a follow up interview or she’d get an eyeful. When I’d scrubbed off the sweat and most of the gel, I dressed in oil-stained jeans and an old tshirt. While the leathers, helmets, gloves and boots were drying, we started loading up the bikes and other equipment in the rig. Val and Dirk, a couple of old time roustabouts swarmed over the scaffolding for the jumps, beginning the long job of dismantling them and loading everything into our eight-wheeler. At the far end of the midway, the Ferris wheel had already been stripped to a bare skeleton, the buckets packed away until we were in another town, a different state. It took between five and six hours to dismantle the bigger rides—and most of that was using muscle power. After twenty minutes Tucker and Luke showed up, calmer, and with that post-fuck glow that was damned irritating to a man who was taking celibacy to a new level of aggravation.

Kes arrived over an hour later, grinning to himself as he barked orders to the team working on taking apart the bleachers and safety barrier. While we grunted and sweated under the hot floodlights, Aimee arrived with huge plates of sandwiches that were wolfed down, held in greasy hands. It took us four more hours to pack up our equipment before we had a six-hour drive to Moses Lake. With one stop to change drivers on the way, we’d be there by breakfast. Kes was driving the RV with Aimee as his backup driver; Luke drove another RV; and I was in charge of the rig with the bikes, ramps, floodlights, spotlights, torches and spare parts— Tucker would spot me when we got to the truck stop outside of Coeur d’Alene. Zach was driving Ollo in his specially adapted RV, and Bo was riding with him tonight. He took turns in different trucks, depending on who he felt like keeping company. Little dude knew how to work the crowd. Tucker yawned and put his feet up on the dashboard, curling himself into a comfortable ball. I knew he’d soon be asleep. The guy was like a damn cat—he could sleep anywhere. I turned the key, and the diesel engine coughed and roared, and I drove out of Missoula in a cloud of yellow dust.

A single man.

By the time we arrived at Grant County Fairground, I’d been asleep for all of three hours. Lucky me. I stretched out, brushing my fingers against the roof of the cab, surprised when Bo’s quiet chatter sounded in my ear. “Aw, you woke the lil’ guy,” Tucker chided. “I didn’t know he was there. When did he appear?” “Snuck in when we were at the truck stop. The moment your ass hit the seat, you were snorin’ so loudly, you didn’t hear him. But gee, you look so cute together. He looks just like you—except you’re hairier.” I gave Tucker the finger while Bo tugged gently on my full beard as if he agreed. Gently, I unwound his fingers and lifted him onto my back as I climbed out of the truck’s cab. The air smelled fresh and there’d been a heavy dew overnight. Bo leapt down and ran toward Ollo’s RV that was parked next to us. I couldn’t see Moses Lake from here, but I knew it was about half a mile to the south of us. You’d probably be able see it from the top of the Ferris wheel.

I yawned and stretched again as Tucker climbed out of the cab, scratching his belly then rubbing his eyes. In the distance, I saw Kes striding across the grass to check out the small arena. At least at this showground we wouldn’t have to erect our own bleachers. That was a blessing. Everywhere, show folk were pouring out of trailers, trucks and RVs, beginning the hard, grinding work of making magic happen. There was a city of canvas to build, a world of possibilities. I walked to the back of the rig and unlocked the heavy double doors. I paused, listening, wondering if I’d heard something scuffling inside or whether it was just my imagination. Maybe a raccoon had gotten in? If so, the poor critter was two states and about 300 miles from home—and about to be evicted. I climbed inside and a curse fell from my lips. A shrill feminine voice cried out as I peered into the darkness, wondering if I really had just seen a blonde girl hiding in the back of the rig. Her pale face loomed out of the darkness, her expression terrified. “I’m sorry!” “Get your butt out of there now!” I commanded. “I’m sorry,” the voice cried again. I stepped out of the rig and jumped down,

watching in disbelief as a small blonde kid stumbled into view. She bit her lip, staring at the distance between the rig and the ground. Sighing, I held out a hand to her, having to catch her as she just about fell into my arms. “I’m sorry!” she said for the third time. I set her back on her feet and stared at her. She was wearing torn jeans and a dirty t-shirt, but the purse she had slung across her shoulders looked expensive and new. I wondered if she’d stolen it. Her hair was a soft blonde color but currently coated with cobwebs. I lifted a hand to brush them from her hair and she flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, trying to soften my annoyance. “You’ve got some spider webs in your hair.” She shrieked loud enough to wake the next town and started batting at her hair, clawing her hands through it and giving panicked little yelps. “Hey, stop that! It’s just a lil’ ole cobweb! Nothin’ to get hysterical over.” She shot me a filthy look and continued shaking out her hair, combing it roughly with her fingers. Her cries had brought an audience. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” laughed Tucker. “Where’d you find this treasure?” “Snuck in the rig while you were in charge.”

Tucker smirked at me. “Yeah, well, finders keepers where I come from. She’s all yours, big guy.” “What’s going on?” asked Aimee, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Oh!” She frowned and stared at me and Tucker. I shrugged. “I’ve never seen her before.” “Maybe she ran away to join the circus,” Tucker chuckled. Aimee held out her hands to the girl who looked maybe sixteen. “Are you okay?” The girl nodded sullenly. “Where did you come from?” The girl’s eyes shifted away and she clamped her mouth shut. “Okay, well . . . do you need to call anyone to come get you?” The girl shook her head stubbornly and Aimee gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m kind of thirsty,” she whispered, licking her dry lips. “Well,” said Aimee, speaking gently, “come on over and have some breakfast with us and we’ll figure out what to do.” The girl sidled past me, her eyes flickering to Aimee as if safety lay in that direction. We all followed, trooping over to the RV, and the girl shot

a worried look over her shoulder. “Are those guys coming too?” Aimee smiled. “Yes, we all live together.” The girl’s eyebrows shot up. “Together?” Aimee laughed. “Yes, but not like that!” Her nose scrunched up. “They’re kind of my brothers-in-law.” The girl didn’t look reassured, but didn’t argue. “What’s your name?” Aimee asked. The girl was silent. “Okay, well maybe you’ll tell me later. Do you like bacon and eggs? Pancakes?” The girl nodded. She was too skinny and looked like she could do with a few good meals. There was something fragile about her, but in the full daylight, I realized that she was older than I’d first thought—maybe seventeen or eighteen. She watched silently as Aimee bustled around the tiny kitchen, whipping up eggs, bacon and pancakes, a big breakfast to see us through hours of set up and sheer exhaustion. Tucker hauled out the dining table from where it was stored along with folding chairs, and I set up the canopy at the side of the RV so we’d have somewhere shady to sit outside. The girl pulled a face then whispered something

to Aimee. Aimee smiled and nodded. “Bathroom’s through there. Second door on the right.” The girl eyed the rear of the RV warily, then followed Aimee’s instructions. When Kes arrived, he didn’t appear pleased with the news that we had a stowaway. “How old is she? We don’t need some sheriff breathing down our necks accusing us of kidnapping her.” “I have no idea,” Aimee said evenly. “Maybe if we all stop staring at her like she’s about to catch fire, she’ll trust us enough to tell her story.” Kes grunted. He didn’t have too much time for people who brought him in touch with the authorities in any way, shape or form. I knew how he felt. When the girl tiptoed out of the RV, she hesitated by the door as if she was planning to make a run for it. “Help yourself to coffee and juice,” Aimee called. The girl licked her lips again and I noticed that she’d taken the time to wash her face and comb some of the dust out of her hair. But there was nothing she could do about her dirty clothes. Tentatively, she took a step forward, sliding into a seat without meeting anyone’s gaze. Aimee piled

food onto her plate and passed it across to her. After a short pause, she tucked in as if she hadn’t eaten in days. I ate silently while Tucker kept up a stream of lame jokes that made the girl smile shyly. At the end of the meal, I stood up and cleared my place, planning on getting over to the arena and starting the set-up of the ramps. “Hey!” Aimee called. “Where are you going?” “Got work to do,” I said shortly. “We have to decide what we’re going to do about our guest,” she insisted. “I don’t need your help,” the girl snapped, frowning at Aimee. “Honey, you stowed away in the back of our rig. You sure need someone’s help.” I raised my hands and backed away. “She’s nothing to do with me!” “You found her,” Aimee insisted. “So? Tucker let her sneak in. Let him deal with her.” “I’m not a stray dog!” hissed the girl. “Oh no, brother, she’s all yours!” Tucker laughed, standing up ready to head off. “Aimee said so. And I’m too smart to let the woman who cooks my food get mad at me. Besides, we’re meeting with Al in . . . five minutes ago.” Fuming, I watched as Kes and Tucker headed for the arena to talk to Al, the ride foreman,

grinning like idiots. “Well,” said Aimee, waving her hand at me until I sat down, then turning to smile at the girl. “Are you going to tell us your name?” “I need to go now.” Aimee shook her head slowly. “You’re just a kid . . .” “No, I’m not!” “Prove it then.” “Look, I’m grateful for the breakfast, but this has nothing to do with you.” Aimee leaned toward her. “I’m worried about you. People don’t just run away like this for no reason. Has someone hurt you?” The girl’s face clouded. “No. Not the way you mean.” “I really want to help you,” Aimee said encouragingly. “Like I need help from a bunch of carnies,” the girl spat out. Immediately, she looked as though she wanted to bite back the words, but Aimee’s face hardened. “Maybe I should just call the sheriff’s office and let them sort it out.” The girl blanched. “You wouldn’t!” “Sure I would. This is my family, and if you’re under age or you’ve done something that’s gotten

you into trouble, you’ve brought it to my door. You’ve got one chance to convince me not to make that call.” Aimee was speaking, but it was Kes’s voice that I heard in my head. He had that old school carnie mentality that every townie is out to screw us. “Fuck you!” the girl said angrily, jumping to her feet. “It’s none of your business!” “Cool down, kid,” I snapped. “Aimee just busted her ass cooking for you and being nice. You don’t get to talk to her like that. You crashed our party—no one invited you here.” “Then let me go!” “Not until we know that you’re going to be safe,” Aimee said, looking determined. I wondered why she was spending so much time on a runaway who was eager to be on her way. Maybe it was the teacher in her, but good riddance, as far as I was concerned. The girl was clearly annoyed but gave in. “Fine. My name is Sara and I’m eighteen. Can I go now?” “Eighteen, huh? Then you won’t mind showing me some ID,” said Aimee, folding her arms. The girl chewed her lip, then with great reluctance pulled out a wallet and flashed a driver’s license. Aimee snatched it from her before she could put it away again and studied it closely. Then she

tossed it to me, commenting, “It looks real. What do you think, Zef?” I caught the leather wallet, and I couldn’t help noticing that it looked new and expensive. Yeah, the ID looked real enough, and I noticed that her address was Montana, not Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. So she’d been on board the rig at Missoula. And I remembered that feeling of being watched while I’d showered. Had she been spying on me then, waiting for her chance to hide in the back of the rig? Then I studied the date-of-birth on her license carefully. “You’re eighteen.” “I told you that already,” she muttered. “It was your eighteenth birthday yesterday?” She looked down, but her expression was angry. “Yeah, so?” she hissed, grabbing the license and tucking it away. I shrugged. “Nothing. Just an interesting choice of day to run away.” I raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t comment. I glanced at Aimee. “Guess we’re done here.” “Zef! We can’t let her go just like that. She’s got nowhere to go!” “How do you know that? Maybe she does. Hey, kid, you got somewhere else you need to be?” “I’m not a kid!” Aimee frowned at me, then smiled at the girl

kindly. “Do you have somewhere to go? Any friends you can call?” The girl looked down, her face contorting as if she was trying to figure out what to say. Then she gave a small shake of her head. “No, ma’am.” She looked up. “There’s no one.” “You runnin’ from the law?” I asked roughly, leaning toward her. She shook her head again quickly, her eyes wide and frightened. “Stop scaring her, Zef!” Aimee said, giving me a telling look. I grimaced and leaned back. “His bark is worse than his bite,” Aimee said soothingly as the girl continued to stare at me. Aimee pursed her lips. “Well, we’ll be here for two weeks. If you want a job and a place to stay, you’re welcome to both.” My eyes narrowed as I glanced at Aimee. The girl seemed equally surprised. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked shyly. “Because you need a friend,” Aimee replied. The girl gave her a timid smile. “Thank you. That would be kinda great.” Aimee smiled back. “You’re welcome. I’m Aimee, if you hadn’t

already guessed. That bear sitting over there is Zef; the one with all the lame jokes is Tucker; and the handsome one is Kes, my husband. You’ll meet Zach, Luke and Ollo later.” The girl giggled. Fucking irritating. I couldn’t stand giggling girls. Then Bo climbed out of the RV’s window and landed in Aimee’s lap. The girl screamed and jumped about a foot in the air. “Oh, and that’s Bojangles—you can call him Bo. He’s part of the family, too.” The girl blinked several times, but didn’t try to touch Bo. “He won’t hurt you,” Aimee cooed, picking up the little guy and cuddling him. I stood up to leave. “Oh, Zef, would you mind cleaning out some space in your room for Sara. You don’t mind sleeping in the rig for a couple of weeks, do you?” Set. Up. I’d been totally set up. Aimee had planned this from the start. I shot her a filthy look as she grinned at me. “Oh don’t look at me like that,” she laughed. “You’ll be fine for a couple of weeks.” “He doesn’t need to do that,” the girl said in a tiny voice. Without another word, I marched into my small room and started stuffing clothes into my old backpack, cursing under my breath.

Why should I sleep in the goddamn rig just because some stupid kid had decided to run away for her birthday? Even as I was griping and glowering, I felt a small pang of remorse. People didn’t run away on their eighteenth birthday for no reason. Fine, I’d move out for a couple of weeks; I just hope this didn’t come back to bite me in the ass. I stomped out of the RV, ignoring the girl’s quiet, “Thank you.”

Later that morning, I was still irritated to hell and back. I stormed across to the arena in a foul mood. Aimee wasn’t thinking straight. Even if the girl wasn’t wanted by the cops, it didn’t mean people weren’t looking for her. And she couldn’t just go around handing out jobs—she knew that Zach ran everything by the book—he couldn’t afford not to. One infraction, and the Daredevils would be closed down. When Zach had been the carnival manager, he’d had a zero tolerance policy on anyone operating machinery when they’d been drinking, and random drug tests were standard. Since he’d run the Daredevils full time, the family that owned the carnival, the Reynolds, had eased up some, but it was still one of the better run outfits. Zach agreed that he’d find Sara a job— something that didn’t bring her into contact with the public. Yeah, because we had so many jobs like that. It was complete bullshit! Everyone worked here; everyone did two or three different jobs. The ride jocks sold tickets and ran the concession stands; the roustabouts moved the props and

machinery and restocked the tent shows when it was needed. The guys in the Daredevils did our own bike maintenance and got the jumps and bleachers in place; in the smaller venues where we had less help, before shows we sold programs like anyone else. We all worked. I didn’t know what Zach had in mind and letting my anger grow wasn’t helping anyone. Besides, it was going to be up to Zach and Aimee to figure out this mess. So I ignored it and threw myself into the set-up of the jumps. Several of the pieces weighed upward of a hundred pounds and needed careful handling. All the crew wore boots with steel toecaps and hardhats. That was just one of the changes Zach had implemented over the years, quoting from his bible, the H&S manual for the International Association of Amusement Parks. On the other hand, the only serious injury in recent memory had been when I’d torn my anterior cruciate ligament, and that was during a stunt, so although the insurance skyrocketed again, no one was getting sued. When I did motor cross, a lot of guys wore knee braces as well as kidney belts, neck braces and chest armor. All of that got in the way with the kind of stunts we did. Our bodies needed to be flexible, moving more like gymnasts. Covering ourselves in immovable armor didn’t work. We were more exposed, but in some ways our

environment was more controlled. We weren’t getting covered in mud on a track with twenty other bikers. But when some of those jumps were as much as a hundred feet, it was good training for stunt work. We finally took a break from the mid-morning heat, Aimee and three other women including Sara arrived with plates piled with food. I rested my hardhat on the soil and picked up a sandwich stuffed with ham, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes. “Sara made those,” Aimee smiled at me. I tossed the sandwich back onto the platter, ignoring Sara’s distraught look, and walked away in disgust. I liked Aimee, but I was fed up being manipulated by damned women. Maybe I should just find a woman from the audience tomorrow and fuck her senseless. I sat alone in the bleachers and drank from a bottle of water that had been warming in the sun. It tasted of plastic and I wondered idly how many PCBs I was ingesting. Then I saw Ollo crossing the arena to join me, Bo riding him like a ship at sea, swaying with Ollo’s uneven, rolling gait. “Have you come to feed me more pearls of wisdom?” I asked dryly. Ollo chuckled. “Nope, just looking for a place to eat my

lunch.” He handed me a pack of sandwiches that I recognized, and pulled out another for himself and Bo to share. I sighed and bit into the sandwich. I didn’t want to admit that it tasted good and I was damned hungry. “The new girl seems okay.” I grunted, unwilling to reply. “Aimee shouldn’t have kicked you out of your crib like that,” he said, surprising me. “You gotta earn your place. Kestrel told her the same thing.” I stared at my food, feeling like shit. I was being a little bitch. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. “It’s fine, Ollo,” I sighed. “I wouldn’t have let the kid sleep in the rig anyway.” He nodded. “I know that. But it’s one thing to offer, and another to be told.” I definitely wasn’t looking forward to bending myself in half to fit the small mattress behind the driver’s seat in the cab. It wasn’t too bad, but it was hot and stuffy in summer. I’d probably end up dragging my bed roll outside. I’d have to find the old air mattress I used to sleep on. “Having said that,” Ollo smiled, standing up, “give the kid a chance. She makes good sandwiches.” He strolled off, his rolling gait almost painful

looking. I knew his hips gave him trouble sometimes. It hurt to think that Ollo was getting older. His face was as wrinkled as a turtle, but his hair was still jet black, just a little salt and pepper at the sides, and the guy had more energy than most able-bodied men half his age. Bo sat next to me, silently eating a piece of tomato, then carefully licking his fingers and cleaning the fur around his mouth. I’d rather live with him than most species of humanity. My cell phone buzzed with an incoming text, and I smiled when I saw my brother’s name show up on the screen. Got a pre-season game LA Aug 31. You in Pomona then? Meet up? My talented little brother was starting quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons his second season in the NFL. It would be really good to see him again. We were hardly ever in the same place at the same time, and he knew I avoided going back to Georgia if I could help it. Awesome! Back in So Cal on July 2. I’m in. He texted back immediately. I’ll leave tickets at the players entrance. See you then.

Daniel was one of the few people that I trusted. We were pretty close, especially during the tough times. He’d been with the same girl since his Freshman year at college. Lisanne was a musician, the singer in an indie band who’d recently recorded their first album. Not many people knew that Dan co-wrote most of their songs. Or that he’d started to lose his hearing from the age of thirteen and was completely deaf by fourteen. And I could only imagine how hard it would be for them to schedule their time together if the band took off the way it looked as though it was going to. Thinking about my brother’s problems took the edge off my own irritation. I didn’t have any real problems, except being a giant asshole. I decided to join the rest of the roustabouts and ride jocks, and stop taking life so seriously. Mirelle had dented my ego, but I was surprised to find that my heart had only sustained minor injuries. As for Sara . . . I took a deep breath. She needs a friend. Kes slapped me on the shoulder when I came back, and I knew that was his way of showing solidarity. Not that he’d ever apologize for his wife, that wasn’t his way, and I didn’t expect it either. By late afternoon, the jumps were set up, and along the midway games, rides, and food stands were nearing readiness. A steel and canvas city had bloomed under the scorching sun. You could still

see the inner workings, the skeletons under the canvas, the tent pegs and guide ropes, but by the time the gates opened at noon tomorrow, everything would be ready. Ollo said that’s when the magic happened. I just knew that it was a lot of hard work, but it made people happy, too. Earlier in the day, Zach had sent a crew to make sure that all the RVs were hooked up to power and that the water pipes were all linked to the site’s fresh water. We had a ton of backup generators, but those were for emergencies. All the RVs had water tanks, too, but when you had six or eight people living in one trailer, water ran out quickly. Kes had lived his whole life with twominute showers. I’d gotten used to it, too, but that didn’t mean I didn’t dream about the rare occasions when I slept in a house and could shower for as long as I wanted. Damn, I was getting soft. But it wasn’t only life on the road that had molded me—two long years in prison had just as much effect, more in some ways. Trusting people was hard—another legacy from my time inside. I shook my head, promising to free myself from the dark pull of the past, and headed to the rig to grab my leathers for a run through of the show. We’d done it a thousand times, but no one wanted to make a mistake on one-thousand-and-one. With a full scale arena, we could play the extended show here, a little more gloss than we’d

been able to give it in Missoula. So we started the run-through with screaming donuts, handstands on the handlebars, that kind of thing, before progressing to the jumps. We didn’t do the fire stunts today because the gas cylinders hadn’t been refilled yet and Zach was waiting on a delivery from Spokane. We’d been promised it would arrive in time for the show tomorrow. I’d learned not to stress about this stuff. If it arrived, great; if it didn’t, we’d be fine and work around it. An hour later, hot and sweaty but feeling more like myself, I rode the bike back across the bumpy back lot to the rig. I cleaned off the dust and dirt from my bike. It was a KTM 350 SX-F, or to put it another way $15,000 worth of dirt bike. KTM bikes had won three consecutive 450 Supercross World Championships—motocross racing—good build quality for stunt work. Satisfied that my bike hadn’t sustained any damage during practice, I peeled off my sweaty leathers and hung them in the sun to dry out. I had to go back to the RV to shower because neither Tucker nor I’d had time to set up the outdoor shower. Besides, I was craving hot water right about now to soothe the ache in my tired muscles. We were all feeling the strain. Driving all night and working all day, it was hard on the body. I

sometimes used a martial arts wooden dummy to build up my adrenaline before a show, but Luke had gotten us all into doing yoga a while back, and even though I’d been skeptical, I found that I was in better shape after doing the stretches and balance work he taught us. Anything that kept us going and kept us injury free. Kes was fanatical about it, which meant we all paid attention. Another innovation that we’d brought in last season was trampoline work. Practicing somersaults and aerial work was surprisingly useful, even though we weren’t on the bikes at the time. I was working on a few new moves and getting my body used to moving in the air helped. Kes was a perfectionist and worked us hard, but our show was the shit, and that was why we made the big bucks when we were back in Pomona. I didn’t spend much of the money I earned. I don’t know what I was saving for, because the future was a foreign country. I took my allotted two minutes under a spray of steam and hot water, not worrying about getting dry after. In this heat, it would only take a few minutes. I’d forgotten that all my clothes were now crammed in the bottom of my backpack, so I threw a towel around my waist, only to come face to face with the girl. She backed away nervously when she saw me. “I . . . I’m sorry about your room. You can have

it back.” God, she must think I’m such a dickhead. “It’s fine. Keep it. I’m used to sleeping in the rig.” She sucked in her full bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. “But it’s not fair.” “I’ve slept worse places, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “My name is Sara,” she said defiantly. “Not ‘kid’.” A small grin formed on my lips. “Noted. Thank you for the sandwiches. Sara.” She blinked several times, then turned on her heel and darted into my . . . her room. Staring after her, I shook my head. Chick was strange. I headed back to the rig and found some wrinkled khaki shorts and a Falcons t-shirt, then helped the other men build a bonfire. We were all tired, even without being open to the public today. Full of good food and feeling calmer than I had in a few days, I let myself relax, enjoying the entertainment as Kes was persuaded to bring out his set of throwing knives and show the kid . . . Sara . . . what a guy who was brought up in the carnival could do. He placed her next to a large wooden board,

scarred from use. Then he threw knives around the outline of her thin body, laughing as she squealed each time a knife thudded into the board next to her. I was impressed that she didn’t flinch even once. I’d let Kes practice on me a few times and I gotta say, staying still when someone is tossing razor sharp steel knives at your favorite face isn’t that easy. Kes got a round of applause and led Sara back to her place by the fire, laughing when her legs gave way and she crashed down between me and Maddie who’d been talking about her grandkids. They weren’t carnies, but they thought their grandma was pretty darn cool. I had to agree. Sometimes you didn’t choose the life; sometimes the life chose you. I was surprised when Sara leaned against me, watching as Kes winked at Aimee and she blew him a kiss back. She acted like she was a little drunk, even though I knew for a fact that she’d been drinking soda all evening. Then she sighed loudly, “She’s so lucky!” Zach rolled his eyes in amusement as yet another woman fell for Kes. It was a good thing I loved the guy like a brother or I might have been jealous. Jealous? About a skinny little kid like Sara? No

way. I must be more tired than I thought. “Hey!” Tucker yelled at Aimee. “You’re gonna name your kid after his Uncle Tucker, right?” Kes raised an eyebrow. “No way I’m naming my kid after a guy whose name rhymes with ‘motherfucker’.” Tucker’s face fell and everyone laughed. “Maybe we’ll name him Joseph,” Aimee said, smirking in Tucker’s direction. “You wouldn’t!” he huffed out. “You can’t name him after that loser.” Sara’s skin seemed pale as the firelight threw shadows across her face. “You’re having a baby?” she whispered to Aimee, and I wondered if I was imagining the pain in her expression. “Yes, I’m eleven weeks,” Aimee smiled. “The baby is due January 1st.” “You’re having a boy?” “We don’t know yet. I just think of him as a boy.” “I like the name Joseph. Is that what you’d name him?” Aimee laughed lightly. “I don’t know yet. I think Zef would like it, but Tucker would never let us hear the end of it.” Sara turned her pale eyes to mine. “Oh! Your real name is Joseph?” “No one calls me that,” I said gruffly. “Ever.”

“Oh . . .” She blinked rapidly and wrapped her skinny arms around her long legs. “Don’t be an ass,” Aimee said quietly as she glared at me. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to tell her that the last person to call me by my full name (other than the judge who’d jailed my ass) had been my father before he died. Long time ago now—half a lifetime. I left the party early and crawled into the small space behind the cab of the truck. After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up and dragged my bedroll outside, cursing that I’d forgotten to pump up the air mattress. I woke once in the night, only to find Bo curled up next to me. Some guys get a hot blonde, I got a damned monkey. Bo snuggled closer and patted my cheek with his leathery paw. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You, too.” I woke up early, streaks of pink and orange painting the dawn sky. I sat up, stretching my arms and arching my back, pleased that everything seemed to be in working order. Then I realized that my dick was hard. It was a good thing Bo had already left; I wouldn’t want to scar the little guy.

That’s one of those things about the carnival— there’s very little privacy. Even in a newer RV like Kes’s, you’d likely be sharing with four or five other people. You could only find privacy by getting inside your head instead. But right now, I’d have enjoyed rubbing one out in the shower. I sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. I’d just have to think of something unsexy like . . . “Oh hey! Good morning, Zef.” Sara stood in front of me wearing a pair of Aimee’s cut-off shorts that hung loosely on her thin body. She was holding a cup of coffee which she then placed carefully on the ground next to me. I stared at the coffee cup then looked up at her, wondering if she realized that she was basically standing in my bedroom, a big carnie no-no. We were all very respectful of other people’s space, mainly because there was so little of it. “Hi,” I said shortly, waiting for her to leave. “Um, so you didn’t sleep in your truck?” “Too hot.” “Oh wow. I’m really so—” “It’s fine.” “Okay.” She stood staring at a patch of earth a foot to my left. “Something else I can help you with?” I asked, feeling my good mood slither away. And I was usually so laidback and easy going.

Yeah, right. “Uh, Aimee said to tell you that breakfast is ready.” “Thanks.” She didn’t move. “I brought your coffee.” “Okay.” “Aimee said you took it black.” “Yeah. Thanks.” “Um, so, you want me to bring you some food or something?” she asked awkwardly. “No, that’s fine.” I frowned, then added again, “Thank you.” “So, maybe we could have breakfast together?” she asked hopefully. “I’ll be there in a minute.” “I could wait for you.” “Jesus, Sara. I’m butt naked here!” She flushed bright red, shot me an embarrassed glance and scuttled away. Cursing under my breath, I pulled on my shorts and made a mental note not to sleep naked outside again. At least my boner had vanished. Five minutes later when I was sitting expectantly under the RV’s awning, Aimee threw me a furious look. “What did you say to Sara? She was really upset when she came back.”

I crossed my arms, irritated. “I told her that I’d come to breakfast as soon as I had some damn clothes on. She was standing over me while I was in my sleeping bag!” Kes frowned at Aimee. “She doesn’t know any better.” “No, well, you didn’t have to be so mean,” Aimee huffed. “You upset her so much she’s been sick.” A guilty feeling clawed at my belly but I ignored it. “I was pretty fucking patient,” I said shortly. “Dude, all this tension at breakfast, it’s not good!” Tucker pretended to massage my shoulder muscles but I ducked out of his reach. “Maybe she’s sick.” “What?” Aimee scowled at me. “Sara. Maybe she’s sick. You said she was throwing up.” “Oh, I didn’t think of that,” and she bustled off, knocking on the bathroom door and calling Sara’s name. Kes raised his eyebrows and sighed. “She’s been like that ever since her hormones started going crazy. It’s making her a little insane.” Tucker laughed. “Being knocked up with your spawn would make anyone insane.”

And then he sprinted away as Kes charged after him. I enjoyed the silence while I ate my breakfast. Eventually, Aimee sat down next to me, still scowling. “She says she thinks it was something she ate at the barbeque last night.” “Yeah? Anyone else get sick?” Aimee frowned then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m always really careful about cooking meat properly.” “Maybe she’s pregnant, too,” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. Aimee’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God! Do you think she is? Did she say something to you?” “Nope, just sayin’.” Aimee stared at me, an impressed look on her face. Then she frowned again. “Do you think I should ask her?” I shook my head. “No. She’s already skittish and she’s only known us one day. If she thinks we’re interfering, she’ll be gone. And I don’t think she has anywhere to go.” Aimee looked thoughtful. “I think you’re right. You’ll just have to keep an eye on her.” “Me?!”

“Oh, Zef,” she laughed quietly. “Don’t you know that she’s got the biggest crush on you? She couldn’t take her eyes off you all last night. And when I said I was going to take you a cup of coffee, she practically wrestled me out of the way so she could go do it herself.” I blinked at her in disbelief. “Fuck, Aimee! She’s eighteen! Eighteen! A freakin’ runaway!” “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “You said yourself that she’s got nowhere to go. Of course she’s going to latch onto the first kind person she meets. You gave up your room for her—she probably thinks you’re some sort of white knight. With tattoos.” I was pretty certain I hadn’t been that nice to her . . . “This is crazy. If she is having a kid, what about the father? Doesn’t he have a right to know what’s going on? And what about her parents? She may be eighteen, but it doesn’t mean that they’re not looking for her.” “I know,” Aimee said quietly. “But that’s her choice, isn’t it? She must have her reasons. We have to trust that she’ll tell us what they are one day.” I stared at her skeptically. Not everyone had Aimee’s chronic need to trust people. “Just . . . be kind to her. Be her friend. She

needs a friend. If she is pregnant, she’ll need all the help she can get.” I rubbed the back of my neck tiredly. “Jesus, Aimee. All the easy jobs!” She laughed softly. “Just be kind to her, Zef.” Great. A teenage runaway, possibly pregnant, with a crush on me. And it was only 6AM.

I did as Aimee asked and kept an eye on Sara, making sure she didn’t spend too much time in the sun, making sure that she didn’t try to carry anything heavy. But I did it all from a distance, usually dispatching Zach or Luke with a message. But at the same time, I noticed a lot of new things about her. For one, she stayed out of sight when there were townies around, preferring to hang with Zach and help with the permits paperwork, marketing and management he did for the Daredevils. It made me think that she was hiding, not wanting to be seen. She said she wasn’t running from the law, and I believed her; but she was hiding from someone. And another strange thing; I saw her eyeing the carnie kids who were traveling with us as if they were an alien species. Almost as if they scared her. That seemed pretty odd behavior if she really was pregnant, and the complete opposite of how Aimee acted, a woman who obviously loved being around kids. I know that she helped home-school some of them and knew them well, but I didn’t think that was the whole story. If Sara didn’t like kids, why wasn’t she planning to get rid of it? Or maybe she

was. I was even more convinced that she was knocked up, because every morning I could hear her puking in the RV’s bathroom. She’d taken to Zach and Luke, probably two of the quieter, calmer people around. She seemed to like Aimee, but they didn’t talk and giggle all of the time like when Aimee got together with Mirelle. Thinking about Mirelle, I wondered what she would have made of Sara—you couldn’t get two women who were less alike. Mirelle was loud and happy and a helluva lot of fun to be around. She was friendly with everyone but protective of her friends, especially Aimee. She was also a flirt and loved to be the center of attention, but the woman had a big heart, too—big on family. Sara was timid and shy, preferred to fade into the background, and never mentioned her family. I’d only heard her laugh once and she rarely initiated conversation with anyone. But she was also pretty smart. Zach said she had some mad computer skills and some really good ideas for marketing the Daredevils. One idea that Zach had taken on board immediately was finding out if KTM would sponsor us, since we all used their bikes. She didn’t bring me coffee again, but I figured that Aimee may be right, because I definitely noticed her following me around like a puppy,

watching me from a distance. I could see that the kid needed a friend, but I wasn’t the man for the job, especially if she was developing feelings for me. Much better if she palled up with one of the other girls who traveled with the carnival. But she didn’t seem to get the message. I was forever looking over my shoulder and finding her trailing after me. The guys got a laugh out of razzing me on it, and it became harder and harder to ignore them. And her. I ended up letting Tucker in on the plan. I know a lot of people thought of him as a loose-lipped clown, but that was just the face he liked to show to people. The man was deep water when you got to know him. “That’s seriously fucked, bro,” he said quietly. “You really think she’s knocked up?” “I don’t know, but she’s sick every morning, and she said the smell of Oreos turns her stomach. Who the hell doesn’t like Oreos?” He nodded thoughtfully. “Then . . . shouldn’t she see a doctor or something?” “Yeah, she should. Zach and Aimee have been looking into putting her on the company health insurance. She shouldn’t have to rely on Medicaid. After all, she is working here.” That was a loose description for the cooking and bit of light cleaning that Sara was doing. Zach

was reluctant to give her a job where she’d interact with the public because he hadn’t done a criminal background check on her. Not sure that meant a lot when a jailbird carnie like me was selling programs before a show and signing them after. Even still . . . And the jobs where she didn’t have to meet people all required muscle—something she definitely didn’t have, even if she wasn’t having a kid. I shook my head. “But first she’d have to admit that she’s knocked up. So, bearing in mind that we’re not supposed to suspect and we don’t know for sure . . .” “Shit,” Tucker shook his head. “So . . . we just wait and look out for her?” “Pretty much.” “I’ll talk to Tera. She might have some ideas. Is Sara coming with us to Pomona?” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know.” Tucker leveled his gaze at me. “She’d come if you asked her to.” I closed my eyes. “I know.” He stood up and patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll do the right thing, bro.” “Sure.” Now if someone could just tell me what the hell

that was.

Two days later, I was out of options, because Sara fainted, right after watching our show. She’d been sitting in the first row of the bleachers, as she always did, then followed us out of the arena toward the back lot. It was another scorcher, and sweat was pouring off of me when I pulled the bike up next to the rig. Sara smiled a lopsided sort of smile as I climbed off my KTM 350, then turned white as paper and slipped to the ground. I caught her before she slammed her head against the concrete. “Shit! Sara!” Tucker rushed over with some water and used one of my old t-shirts to pat it onto her face. Kestrel raced across with Aimee trailing behind him on foot. “I’ll call a doctor,” she panted. Sara’s eyelids fluttered. “No. No doctor,” she whispered. “Everyone step back, give her some room,” I ordered. Tucker quietly handed me the bottle of water and I held it to her lips.

“Drink.” She held it with a shaking hand and took a few small sips. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “I feel much better now.” Ignoring her gasp of surprise, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back to the RV, setting her on the bed. I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows—I barely recognized the place. In such a short period of time, she’d decorated it with picture postcards from the carnival, two stuffed toys that I recognized from the fishing game, and a bunch of cushions and ribbons and girly shit, probably given to her by the other carnies. The quilt was covered with something pink and flowery, and she’d pinned colorful scarves over the window. The room looked more like Madam Sylva’s fortune-telling tent than my old crib. Sara was propped against the pillows, staring at her hands folded in her lap. “I’m fine now. Thank you, Zef.” “You and me are going to have a talk,” I informed her. “And then you’re going to see a doctor.” Her eyes opened wide. “I don’t need a doctor. I feel fi—” “Yeah, because people who are fine just faint all over the place. Are you knock—are you

pregnant?” The girl looked terrified. “How . . . how did you know?” Really? How naïve was this kid? “Lucky guess,” I said dryly. She nodded, two tears tracking down her pale cheeks. “Please don’t send me away! I won’t be any trouble, I promise!” I seriously doubted that, but I couldn’t bear the painful desperation on her face either. “We’re not sending you away.” “Promise?” Mentally, I kicked myself for going anywhere near there. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “I promise.” Even as I spoke, I knew that it was a bad idea, and somehow this was all going to come back and bite me in the ass. But she looked so lonely, so hopeless. I knew what that felt like. And I wondered if she had any idea how tough things were going to be for her. She seemed pretty clueless so far. “Do you want to keep it?” I asked, trying to make my voice gentle. She nodded again and looked up. “I . . . I think so.” Her pale blue eyes were glossy with tears and pink-rimmed. Her nose had turned red, too, and her

skin was blotchy. She was a real mess. “Well, if you want to keep it, you need to take better care of yourself. Stay out of the sun when it’s this hot, drink plenty of water and, um, eat right. I’ll get Aimee to fix you up with one of those baby doctors, okay?” “I can’t afford . . .” “Kes has put you on our insurance plan. It’s all taken care of.” Her pink lips popped open, and then she flung her arms around my neck, sobbing her young heart out. I patted her back awkwardly, embarrassed that I noticed she was crushing her breasts against my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aimee watching from the doorway, and I mouthed, Help me! She gave me a small smile then tapped lightly on the door and walked inside to sit on a corner of the bed. “Zef’s right,” she said quietly. “We’ll take care of you. You’re going to be okay.” That set off a fresh wave of sobbing. I tried to pass her over to Aimee, but Sara clung to my neck like a spider monkey. I was afraid I might hurt her if I tried to peel her off. Aimee gave me a bemused look, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

Traitor. Eventually, Sara’s crying had slowed to a few loud sniffs, then she unclamped her arms from my neck and wiped her eyes with her fingers. Silently, I watched as she composed herself. Feeling like there was nothing more I could do, I stood up. Her eyes followed me and her lips turned down. “Take the rest of the day off,” I ordered, folding my arms across my chest. “No more chores today. And tomorrow you’re seeing a doctor. No arguments.” She swallowed and gave a small nod. “No arguments,” I repeated. I’d already opened the door and stepped through it when I heard her soft voice behind me. “Thank you, Zef.” “You’re welcome,” I said gruffly, closing the door behind me. I needed to change out of my leathers and take a shower. After doing a show in 95oF, I probably stank like a goat. But everyone was waiting for me in the living area. “How is she?” asked Aimee. “Okay, I guess. She admitted that she’s pregnant—and she wants to keep it. And, um, I kinda said we wouldn’t send her away. Hey! She was upset—I don’t know what to do with blubbering kids. Aimee abandoned me in there!”

Tucker snickered. “Not that much of a kid if she’s having a baby.” Aimee cuffed him around the head, but in one way he was right. I kept thinking of her as a kid, but she’d be a mother soon, bringing a new life into the world. Hell, she was still a kid. I’d never met anyone less prepared to face the world. It was a good thing she’d run away with the carnival. Aimee tugged Kes’s sleeve. “I’ll see if I can get her an appointment with me tomorrow at the local hospital, then you can drive both of us.” Kes didn’t seem too happy about that suggestion, but he gave a curt nod of agreement. For the rest of the day, Sara stayed in the RV. I was pleased that she was taking my advice to rest, but I kind of missed seeing her around the place. I guess I’d gotten used to her.

The sky was fading in the twilight and I knew I needed to get back to the rig to start cleaning up. I’d been off my game all day and had made a couple of rookie mistakes in the evening show. It wasn’t entirely to do with Sara. For a split second earlier in the afternoon, the

briefest of moments, I thought I was seeing things —someone from my past. Common sense tells you that it can’t be, that it’s just the imagination of a tired mind. I tried to shake it off, but my time in prison had given me a sixth sense for danger. I could feel it, and I’d learned to trust my gut. For the rest of the day, I was on high alert, scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for any small detail that didn’t fit. When more than three hours had passed with no further sighting, I began to relax. Mistake number one. Because then I saw him. Roy hadn’t been in the running for any beauty prizes when I’d last seen him six years ago, but now he could have gotten a job in the carnival if we still had freak shows. The tattoos that had covered his arms and neck seemed to have flowed upward, with colorful ink covering the top of his hairless head. His left eye was gone, an old scar making a seam through his eyelid and cheek. He’d put on some weight, too, a vast belt of fat hanging over the top of his pants. But his arms looked as thick and musclebound as ever, and he was flanked by two toughs whose cold eyes glared at me. One of them was swinging a metal stake that we used to hold down the canvas on the sideshows. They’d found me in a quiet corner near the performers’ RVs and behind the rig. No one would see me here. And I didn’t think this was going to be

a friendly hello. Mistake number two. “Hello, Roy. Long time.” I stood with my hands hanging at my side, my stance loose and easy. There was nothing nearby that I could use as a weapon, so I’d have to snatch the stake from the goon on Roy’s right. It was my only chance, because I knew this wasn’t just going to be a spectacular beat down. I knew Roy, and he was out for blood. “Colton.” I waited for him to show his hand, tense and ready to move, but Roy seemed to want to take his time. He’d always been that way. “You’ve been a hard man to find.” I scratched my beard. “I’ll talk to my publicist.” He cracked a smile, showing a gap where his front teeth should be. Along with his bald head, it gave him an oddly innocent expression, like an overgrown baby. “You like living on the road?” he asked companionably. “I like it well enough.” He nodded slowly, then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuffing one in that big, gaping mouth, before offering the pack to me. “No, thanks.” He lit the cigarette, cupping the flame from his

lighter as he looked up. “You off the weed?” “Living clean, Roy.” The truth was that I’d given up when Kes had been hospitalized a couple of years back. I’d spent a lot of hours with him in there and I didn’t want to keep running out to get a smoke. It was easier to stop, so I did. Roy gave a hacking cough and frowned at his cigarette as smoke leaked from his mouth. “I should quit.” “Yeah, you should.” He gave me a sour look and we both knew I wasn’t talking about smoking. “You testified.” He filled his mouth and spit onto the grass. “Federal fucking Rule 35. I didn’t think you’d do that to me, Zef. We were friends, goddammit.” I leaned forward meeting his eyes glare for glare. “We stopped being friends when you set me up. We stopped being friends when you put the word out that I was dealing meth. And a fucking friend wouldn’t have tried to bring my family into your shitty world.” “You’re a self-righteous motherfucker, Colton. You ratted me out and you ratted my boss out.” “I cut a deal when I heard you’d gotten out of Georgia. Last I heard you were in West Virginia.”

“That supposed to make me feel better? I’ve got a $20,000 bounty on my head!” “Is that all?” I laughed. “Big time villain, Roy.” He chuckled quietly, his misshapen mouth creasing in a laugh. Then he turned to the two men. “Break his face first.” The goon with the stake took a swing at me, the wickedly sharp edge catching in my t-shirt as I stepped just out of reach. He swung again, and I lunged forward, getting one hand on the stake before I was grabbed from behind. A kidney punch brought me to the ground, sending pain flooding through me, my back on fire, and I saw Roy’s heavy biker boot aiming for my face. I formed my arms into an X-shape, blocking his foot as it grazed my cheek. I twisted, taking him with me, but the first goon was still swinging the stake, aiming at my exposed back. Oh shit! This is gonna hurt! I heard a scream but it wasn’t me. Sara was standing with one hand held out in front of her as if she could save me, the other covering her mouth. The second goon grinned when he saw her. She tried to run but he caught her by her long ponytail, yanking her back roughly. Distracted by her screams, goon one hesitated in his swing and I managed to grapple the stake from his hand, slamming it against his shin, making

him howl. Then I heard another scream, but this time it was Roy, a high-pitched shriek that sounded almost inhuman. I looked up to see a knife sticking right through the middle of his hand, pinning it to his wide belly. Then another knife thudded into flesh with a soft whump, and the goon holding Sara cursed as he tried to pluck a small throwing knife that was sprouting from his thigh. “I’ll take out an eye next, and you don’t have one to spare.” I recognized Ollo’s voice even as I thudded the stake into the other goon’s chest. Then I heard the pounding of feet as Kes and Tucker came running over, landing punches and getting in more than a few kicks. Roy and his goons were whipped, bleeding into the dusty grass of the back lot. I glanced at Ollo. “You missed, old man.” “The hell I did!” he spat indignantly. “Yeah? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were aiming for that fella’s fat ass.” He started to laugh, a squeaky, coughing, wheezing sound. Then he strode forward, plucking free his knives as his victims bled quietly, their furious eyes jittery. “These assholes friends of yours?” Kes asked

idly, his gaze cold. “Never seen the Brothers Grimm,” I replied, “but Roy and I go way back. We were friends until he tried to frame me and set up Daniel.” Kes nodded slowly. “What do you want to do with them?” I glanced at Sara who looked as though she was going to be sick. “Nothing permanent. Just take out the trash.” I rubbed my bruised ribs while Kes pulled out his phone. Within two minutes, Al, the ride foreman and several of the roustabouts arrived and bundled Roy and the goons away. “I’ll be seeing you, Colton!” Roy called, his voice ending in a groan as Buddy, one of the ride operators put a fist wrist deep into his overflowing stomach. “Wait!” I strode after them and grabbed the front of Roy’s t-shirt, hearing it rip as I dragged him to his feet. “You had your chance, Roy, now listen up,” I hissed, my face inches from his. “I know enough about you to claim that twenty K reward money, but I’m not going to. I’ll leave that job to someone else because I don’t want your blood money. I did my time and I’ve paid my dues. But you know what? All it would take is one call and I’d give up enough new dirt on you to add a couple of zeroes to

your bounty price. Every lowlife piece of scum would be after you—you wouldn’t last a month. Stay away from me and stay away from my brother. And if you’re smart, which you’re not, don’t ever go to another carnival because I’ll know, and I’ll make that call.” His face was fixed in a leer of loathing, but I knew that I’d made my point. Buddy and Val dragged him away, while the other roustabouts hustled the goon squad from the fairground. “You okay, bro?” Tucker asked, his eyes flicking from me to Sara. “Yep. Thanks for your help, guys.” And I turned to Ollo and high fived him. “You’re a legend, old man.” Ollo grinned, cleaning the bloody throwing knives on the long grass. Tucker turned to Sara, his expression worried. “You okay, sweet cheeks? They hurt you at all?” She shook her head slowly, although she looked shocked and pale. Then her gaze turned to me. “Aw, don’t you worry, sugar. It’ll take more than a couple of ugly sons-of-guns to get the drop on ole Zef over there. He’ll take care of you. Nothin’ that Maddie’s funnel cake can’t fix.” I thought it might take more than that to wipe the memory of her fear, but silently I escorted her back to the RV.

And yeah, she said yes to funnel cake. She sat curled up on the small couch in the living area, sipping on a hot chocolate. Aimee said sweet things were good for shock. When she looked up, I knew that she was going to ask me about Roy. “Who were those guys?” “I don’t know the two henchmen, but I knew the other when I lived in Savannah. Haven’t seen him in a bunch of years.” She studied the rim of her cup. “He really hates you.” “Yeah, well, it’s mutual.” “What did he do to you?” There were a lot of ways to answer that. I chose the easiest answer—and the one most economical with the truth. “He tried to set me up—it didn’t work.” I saw that she had more questions, but I was surprised by her new direction. “How did you become a stunt rider?” I didn’t feel much like giving her my life story, but if it took her mind off of Roy . . . I shrugged. “I always liked motorcycles. Kinda just happened.” She lifted an eyebrow, not buying my short answer. “Yeah? I ride a bicycle. Maybe I can join the Daredevils.”

I couldn’t help a reluctant grin. “Sure, we could go with a female rider— something for the fanboys in the crowd.” She giggled. “Seriously, Zef, how did you get into it? I mean, not every guy—or girl—who rides a motorcycle becomes a stunt rider.” True, but I wasn’t lying either. It had pretty much just happened. “I used to do some motor cross racing when I was a kid. My dad was into bikes and I learned from him. I spent a lot of time fixing up the engines and metalwork, too, since I couldn’t afford a mechanic most of the time. When I joined the carnival, I was helping out working on the rides, fixing the bumper cars or any piece of machinery that broke, those kind of things. I met Kes and Tucker—they’d just started out with the Daredevils and were looking for a mechanic. I ended up being a third rider as well.” “You’re lucky,” she said, looking down. “Doing what you love.” “Yeah.” I was luckier than she knew. Seeing Roy had reminded me of everything that I thought I’d left behind—and of everything that I had to lose.

The next morning, we were all awake early as usual. Sara was subdued at breakfast, but looked better than the day before. I noticed that she didn’t eat much, just pushing a piece of toast with peanut butter and jelly around her plate. I had to look away to stop from yelling at her to eat the damn thing. I didn’t know if she was worried about her doctor’s appointment or whether she was still freaking out about Roy and his goons. She hadn’t spoken about it again, and I was of the opinion that the least said the better. She looked different today for another reason, as well. For a start, she was wearing one of Aimee’s summer dresses and she’d left her hair long and loose instead of pulling it back in a ponytail like she did every other day. She wasn’t bad looking when she made an effort. Kes had just helped both girls into Zach’s old truck that we used if we didn’t want to take the RV into town, when Zach walked over, accompanied by two men wearing neckties and hardhats, and both were carrying clipboards. “Sorry, Kes. These men are from Health & Safety to do an equipment check.” Kes frowned.

“Your colleagues were here on Monday morning before we opened.” “Good morning, Mr. Donohue,” said the older guy. “My name is John Henderson. I’m the team leader for Grant County’s Health & Safety Department. We’re undertaking a second inspection because a member of the public expressed some concerns, so we’re here to check them out.” Kes scowled. “What concerns?” “Specifically, how close your motorcycles come to the first row of the bleachers.” “It’s all by the book.” “We’d appreciate your time.” “I’m just about to take my wife to a doctor’s appointment, so it’ll have to wait.” Henderson nodded. “I understand, but any delay could result in your first performance today being delayed—or cancelled.” Kes looked as though he as was about to leap out of the truck and do some damage on the guy, but Aimee laid her hand on his arm. “Kes, it’s fine. I’ll drive me and Sara to the hospital. We’ll be fine—I have GPS on my cell phone. It’s only twenty minutes.” I could see that Kes was frustrated at being over a barrel.

“I’ll drive,” I heard myself saying. “I’ll take care of them.” Kes was still torn, but Aimee threw me a quizzical look. “Okay,” he said at last. “Look after them, Zef, I’m counting on you.” I glanced at Tucker who was grinning at me, then mimed rocking a baby in his arms and making kissy faces while he laughed his ass off. Idiot. I climbed into the driver’s seat and waited until Sara and Aimee had fastened their seatbelts. Then I saluted Kes, gave Tucker the bird, and drove off. Aimee talked the whole way about prenatal vitamins, yoga for moms-to-be and a bunch of stuff I had no interest in, until she asked Sara the question that had been going around in my mind. “So, how far along do you think you are?” “Um, nine-and-a-half weeks.” Aimee shot me a look at that very specific answer. I kept my eyes on the road. “Oh, so you’re nearly as far along as me,” Aimee said brightly, but I could hear the concern in her voice. At the hospital, I found a parking spot, then climbed out of the truck. I stood watching the girls, feeling like a spare part. “I’ll go get a coffee while you ladies are being seen to,” I said. “Oh, God, I’d kill for a salted caramel muffin,”

Aimee said, her eyes lighting up. “Or a blueberry muffin. Maybe chocolate if they don’t have either of those. And a caramel latte. Or just a latte. No, wait! I can’t have too much caffeine. Make that a decaff or . . .” “Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Muffin and a milky coffee-free coffee. Got it.” I turned to Sara. “You want anything? You look like you should eat something. You hardly ate anything at breakfast and you’re too damn skinny.” Her cheeks flushed and Aimee frowned at me. “What? I just said she needs feeding. She’s gotta eat for two now.” Aimee’s expression softened, but Sara wouldn’t look at me. I sighed, wondering how Kes put up with their hormonal asses, and stomped off to find the cafeteria. “We’ll be in the Maternity Women’s Center,” Aimee called after me. I waved a hand but didn’t turn around. I found the cafeteria easily and ordered two girly coffees, a black one for me, and half-a-dozen muffins. That should be enough. Then I changed my mind and bought a dozen muffins—I wasn’t sure how much pregnant women ate, but recently Aimee had made it her new hobby. The server boxed up the muffins for me and put the coffee in a cardboard tray, then I carried them

across the hospital to the Maternity Women’s Center. Aimee and Sara were sitting together and they were holding hands. “Kes just called. The inspection went fine and he was going to drive over, but I said we were okay and that you were looking after us.” I grunted an answer that could have meant anything, but Aimee smiled and helped herself to coffee, rummaging through the box of muffins until she found the salted caramel that she was craving. “I got you one, as well,” I said, pushing a latte across to Sara. She looked up surprised. “I didn’t ask for coffee.” I shrugged. “Don’t drink it if you don’t want it.” “No, no, I want it.” She paused, then without looking up, mumbled, “Thank you, Zef.” We weren’t the only people in the waiting room: three more women in various stages of pregnancy were there, too; one of them looking so enormous, my eyes kept straying to her straining stomach. Man, that looked painful. A nurse stuck her head around the door and looked around expectantly. “Mrs. Donohue?” Aimee stood up quickly. “Yes, that’s me!”

“Is your husband coming in with you?” “Oh no, Zef’s just a friend,” Aimee grinned. “He’s with the other pregnant woman.” Then she picked up a thick packet of documents that she’d brought with her to show the doctor, and walked away. Sara blushed beet red and I was annoyed with Aimee for stirring the shit. “Ignore her,” I said, handing Sara a muffin. “I do.” She took the muffin silently, toying with the paper case. “Aimee’s been really kind to me,” she said quietly. I sighed. “Yeah, but sometimes her mouth runs away with her. She doesn’t mean anything by it.” “I know.” “Okay, well . . . good.” She nibbled at the muffin, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep myself from nagging her to eat the whole damn thing. It wasn’t that damn difficult to eat a muffin. “I’m not a slut.” I turned to stare, her words coming out of the blue. “I never said you were.” “But you were thinking it.” That pissed me off.

“You have no idea what I was thinking about you or anything else.” “I’ve only slept with two guys.” “Good for you.” Her lips quivered at my harsh tone, and I found myself back-pedaling again. “Listen, Sara, you don’t owe me an explanation. I don’t think you’re a slut. I don’t think anything about you at all.” Her eyes filled with tears and she started to sniff. “Ah hell! I didn’t mean it like that!” I pulled her against my chest and rubbed her back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It can’t be easy, all of this. Just . . . take it one day at a time.” She nodded, her narrow shoulders still shaking, and I felt all kinds of shit. After a while, she quieted, and I thought for a moment that she’d fallen asleep. But then she looked up, her pale eyes wide as she blinked then pushed her hair out of her face. “How come you don’t have a girlfriend, Zef?” I stiffened at her words. “That’s kind of personal.” She gave a cynical laugh. “So it’s okay for you to know everything about me, being a pregnant, teenage runaway,” she spat out as sarcasm dripped from her voice, “but I’m not

allowed to ask you anything?” I wasn’t sure what to tell her. For one thing, I didn’t know anything about her, not really. I knew nothing about her family, the father of her baby, or why she’d run away. And for another, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her about Mirelle. For a guy who’d spent the last four years staying away from complications or commitment, life sure was having the last laugh, and every damn woman I knew was having a kid. “I’m not the kind of guy women want for a boyfriend,” I said, her own words tearing free an honest response that surprised me. She stared up, a small frown creasing her smooth forehead. “Why not?” I shrugged, uncomfortable with her continued questions. “I’m just not.” She gave me a timid, hopeful smile. “I think you’d make a great boyfriend. You’re really sweet and—” “Sara . . .” “You are! If I wasn’t pregnant, would you ask me out?” “No.” She sucked in a deep breath, looking hurt and confused. . “Why not? Am I that awful?”

“Shit, no! Of course not! You’re kind of pretty . . . when you’re not crying . . . but you’re just a kid . . .” “I’m not!” “Okay, fine. You’re not a kid—you’re eighteen. Big difference. I’m 32 and I’m not looking to be a cradle-snatcher anytime soon. Got it?” She pursed her lips stubbornly, then sighed and moved away from me, folding her arms protectively across her stomach. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” We sat in silence, but my mind ran through all the different ways that I’d fucked up that conversation, as well. Jeez, the girl gave me a headache. After a long, uncomfortable wait, another nurse entered the room, looking at her clipboard. “Sara Weiss?” “Here!” Sara raised a trembling hand and shot me a terrified look. The nurse smiled at me, still sitting too close to Sara. “Is this the baby’s daddy?” “N-no!” she stuttered at the same time as I said, “Hell, no!” The nurse’s smile fell. “Oh, well, come on through, Sara. Your friend can wait here.”

She disappeared through a door with the nurse, and I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. This day was officially fucked.

The drive home was awkward, to say the least. Aimee did her best to fill the tense silence. And besides, she was excited and happy about being pregnant with Kes’s kid. Although she kept trying to rein herself in for Sara’s sake, but Aimee seemed unable to stem her own pleasure. She kept stroking her non-existent bump and talking about changes she and Kes would need to make to their tiny log cabin in Arcata, and what Bo would think about having a baby brother or sister. I had to smile at that last one. But Sara just stared silently out of the window, lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t told either of us what the doctor had said, and she hadn’t looked at the packet of papers that she’d been given. I wondered what she was thinking, whether she was having second thoughts about keeping the kid. I wasn’t a complete Neanderthal, I did know what it meant to have more responsibilities than the average 18 year-old. Both of my parents had worked a lot, and with having a brother six years younger than me, a lot of the responsibility to take care of him had fallen my way. I’d put off going to college for a year so I

could save up some money and help with the bills. And then I only started my degree part-time, taking a class now and then when I had the time or could afford it. When Dan started losing his hearing, it had been hard on all of us, but devastating for him. For a start, the kid wanted to be a rock star, and was damn good at playing his guitar and writing songs. Really good, not just kid-good. He could have made it. But then he got the diagnosis of a form of hearing loss that was progressive and permanent. Thinking back, I reckon that it had begun a lot sooner than any of us realized at the time, including Dan. What seemed like usual teenage behavior— ignoring our parents, playing music too loud, getting into trouble at school—it all made a sort of dark sense when we found out about his deafness. I tried to be there for him as much as possible during those days. Mom and I went to sign language classes with him, too. I couldn’t help smiling at the memory. Mom was so shit at it, I don’t think she ever managed to communicate well. She was always mixing up D and F, S and A, so Dan’s name tended to come out as ‘floss’ or something else bizarre. Or when she tried to get him to bring her a sweet tea by making a T sign with her fingers and shaking them. Dan just smiled and got what she wanted. We never did tell her that she was making

the sign for ‘toilet’. But the best one was when she signed ‘fuck’ instead of ‘work’. We used to crack up over that. Then Dan went away to a special school for deaf kids. I thought that I’d try to take more classes and maybe even finish off my degree, but the deaf school cost a ton of money and my parents needed me to help out. So I told them that I’d gotten a better part-time job at an auto shop, but by then I’d already started dealing drugs. And using them. Stories like that never have a happy ending. When they died in a car wreck, I tried to straighten up for Dan’s sake, but I was stupid, and young, and grieving. In some ways, getting sent to prison was the thing that saved me. I’d gotten in with a really heavy crowd, and if prison hadn’t claimed me, I probably wouldn’t be alive today. I glanced across at Sara, wondering what thoughts were running through her pretty head. But she didn’t speak and she didn’t even look at either of us, so we let her be. Back at the carnival, I didn’t have time to do anything except get my ass over to the rig and change into my leathers. The doctors’ meetings had run over and I was late getting back. The other guys had already warmed up, but I didn’t have time for that if we were going to play

the show on schedule. Luke ran me through a few quick stretches, but it wasn’t enough, and my knee was giving me hell from sitting around all day. Kes threatened to pull me from the act, but I promised that I was fine. Under the glaring sun, we raced out into the arena, and even through my helmet, I could still hear the cheers and yells of the audience, their faces passing in a blur. As I took the first jump, a hands free leap where I gripped by bike with my knees, the pain made my eyes water. I tried to get my weight on my other leg for the landing, but a bolt of pure agony shot through it. It was better on the next two jumps, which were handstands, but the landings still jarred. Sweat beaded on my forehead and started to drip into my eyes. Even if I raised the visor, I couldn’t wipe my face with the heavy leather gloves on. I blinked as my eyes stung and my vision was hazy. I didn’t like it, but my body was forcing me to take a break. I caught Kes’s attention and gestured that I was going to take one more jump and then time-out. He nodded his understanding, and I saw Luke and Tucker following my cue. I made my last jump, doing a horizontal three-

sixty through the air like a surfer, but my wheel edge caught the landing surface at an angle, and I skidded down to the dirt at the bottom. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d landed on my good leg, but I didn’t, and the pain was so intense, my vision went black and all I knew was deafening silence. I woke up a few seconds later wondering if I’d died and gone to Heaven, because the view was pretty damn good and surely an Angel was watching over me. But as my vision cleared, I realized that Sara was on her knees in the dirt next to me. I think she was screaming, but my ears were ringing so badly, I couldn’t tell. “ . . . call an ambulance?” I struggled to sit up, but she held me down by my shoulders. “What?” Kes was next to me, lifting my visor carefully. “Wait for the paramedics, man.” Flames of pain were running up from my ankle to my thigh. “I think I fucked up my knee again,” I groaned. “Does anything else hurt?” “Only my pride,” I lied. Kes grinned and I heard Tucker’s relieved laugh behind me. I squinted up at him. “Everyone else okay?” “Yeah, Zef,” he grinned. “We’re all good. You

certainly gave the crowd their money’s worth. Can you do that again?” Then Sara screamed at him. “Shut up! Shut up! He could have died! He’s hurt! He’s really hurt, and you’re just making a big joke of it!” And then she burst into tears. Tucker’s mouth dropped open, stunned into silence. I saw Kes gesturing to Aimee to take Sara away. “No! I’m not leaving him!” And she flung herself across my body, gasping and crying. I thought she was going to have a complete meltdown when the paramedics tried to pull her off me. “Sara, honey,” I gritted out while my whole body felt like it had been run over by a charging rhino, “they’ll do a much better job of getting me onto a stretcher if you climb off of me now.” “Oh!” She stumbled back, wiping her eyes and nose as I helped the paramedics get me onto the stretcher. The crowd was on their feet, expressions of interest or horror, depending on how macabre they liked their shows, so I gave them a quick wave and heard applause and cries of relief. “We’ll see you at the hospital,” Kes called after me. I gave him a thumbs up, then relaxed back on

the stretcher, my knee throbbing like a mofo. Sara was walking next to me, still crying, so I lifted up my gloved hand and she clung onto it as if it would save her from drowning. But waking up and seeing her sweet face, thinking it felt like Heaven, I wondered if I was the one who was drowning. Back at the hospital for the second time in one day, the woman at the reception desk recognized me. Her expression seemed to say, You again, and I saw her eyeing Sara, as well. She stayed with me while an ER doctor gave me a once-over, taking a history and deciding that I need a CT scan of my head and an MRI of my knee, so I’d have to stay in overnight. Sara didn’t say much, just asking if I needed water, listening intently to everything that was said. The only time she spoke was when I refused to have my new Alpinestars leather pants cut off of me. “Zef, you’re being such an idiot! You can buy more pants, but you only have one left leg.” I let them slice up my suit after that; I just couldn’t watch them do it. When they’d finished and junked $1500 of new gear, I was wheeled away for a CT scan. My head was throbbing, but I didn’t know for sure if I’d hit it when I went down, but maybe I’d given myself a touch of whiplash—that would

account for the bitchin’ headache. When the tech guy had finished, the brace was taken off my neck, so I assumed it was good news, and I was taken back to my room. Kes, Aimee, Tucker and Zach had arrived and were questioning Sara, but left her alone as soon as I was wheeled in. “Zef! Oh my God, I’ve been so worried about you!” Aimee surprised the hell out of me by bursting into tears. We’d gotten off to a rocky start when she’d first started dating Kes again; we’d dealt with that, but we’d never been close. Kes smirked behind her and mouthed, “hormones.” Even more surprising was the tight-lipped glare that Sara shot in Aimee’s direction before letting her face go blank. While I waited for the doc to read the CT scan, I pulled off the sheet and saw my leg for the first time. The knee had swollen to the size of a football, so it would definitely have hurt like hell if they’d dragged off my pants. Sara gave me a knowing look which I ignored. Finally, after another lengthy wait while Kes got bored and went for coffee—which I wasn’t allowed to drink—the doctor came back. “Well, Mr. Colton, the CT scan has come back clear, so that’s good. As for your knee, it’s

sprained, but I’ll need the MRI to tell me whether or not your ACL requires surgery. I believe you’ve already had it repaired fourteen months ago?” I groaned and laid my head back on the pillow. “We won’t be able to schedule the MRI until tomorrow, so we’ll put a brace on your leg to keep you from moving it and make you as comfortable as possible. I’ll also prescribe some pain medication for you.” “No thanks, doc.” “I’m sorry, what?” “No to the pain meds. It’s not hurting so much.” His eyes widened. “I would strongly recommend that you do. It’ll be done through the IV. And there’ll be prescription for you to take with you.” Great. Not that I was going to take them. I wasn’t at all happy about the thought of being medicated or being kept in overnight waiting for a scan, and I glanced at Kes. He gave a brief nod and looked toward Zach who raised his eyebrows in unspoken agreement. Zach left the room following the doc and twenty minutes later a harassed resident told me I’d be getting the MRI shortly. I could only assume that Zach argued to get it sooner or the doctor decided it needed to be stat. It was my second time in a metal cigar tube, hearing the booming sound of the imaging in action.

I found it oddly relaxing, letting my mind wander, the blackness soothing not suffocating. There was an inevitability about all of this. Even if I didn’t need surgery, I’d be out for the next couple of months. I wasn’t good with a lot of time on my hands. Sara looked pale when they brought me back to my room. “Maybe you should lie down?” I suggested. She shook her head but gave me a faint smile. I wished she would. She looked tired, dark smudges under her eyes that told of too many sleepless nights. I felt guilty adding to her stress. An hour later, the doc was back again, reading from his damn clipboard. “There’s good news and bad news, Mr. Colton. The good news is that your ACL isn’t torn. You have a grade one sprain, which means that the ligament is mildly damaged. It’s been stretched beyond its normal capacity, but is still able to keep your knee joint stable.” I closed my eyes in relief, then felt Sara slip her cool hand into mine. I glanced up at her, but she was staring at the doctor, waiting for the bad news. “Hit me with it, doc,” I said tiredly, hoping that he’d let me go home soon. “You’ll need complete rest for between six to eight weeks. I’d recommend you wear a brace to protect your knee from instability, and crutches for

the first two or three weeks to keep you from putting weight on your leg. As the swelling goes down, you’ll need to start physical therapy to restore function to your knee and strengthen the muscles that support it.” As I’d expected, but, shit! That was July and half of August out of action. I’d miss the big gig at Pomona on the Fourth next week, but also the busiest part of the season. I was determined to be back in action by the time I met up with Dan. No way would I miss that. What a shitty awful day this was turning out to be. Then I realized that Sara was still holding my hand and I quietly pulled free. While we were waiting for the brace and crutches to arrive, Tucker handed me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to wear, and my battered Vans. I was used to changing in front of people, even Aimee, but I felt weird dressing in front of Sara. Thankfully, Aimee cleared everyone out of the room—it was getting pretty crowded in there when a nurse came to put an elastic bandage over my leg and showed me how to fix the brace. With crutches under each arm, I made a few practice steps. Been there, done that, learned the gimp act. But they made me leave the hospital in a wheelchair. Tucker was disappointed when he wasn’t allowed to be the one to push me. Thank

God. I didn’t want to fuck up my leg worse than it already was. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was in quite a lot of pain and my head was still throbbing, as well. The nurse had given me some pain meds and believed me when I pretended to swallow them. She’d obviously never worked in a prison or a psych ward, because otherwise she’d have been watching more carefully. Kes narrowed his eyes when he saw me palm the drugs, but he didn’t say anything. He and Tucker were the only people who knew why I wouldn’t take them. I just wanted to lie down and . . . It occurred to me that I didn’t have a room anymore. I couldn’t ask Sara to move out, especially not in her condition, but Tucker had already thought about what I needed. “You can have my room in the RV, man,” he said. “Ollo said I can bunk in with him, or I’ll sleep in the rig, whatever. No problem.” Ollo had an RV adapted for his height. I wouldn’t have minded bunking in with him, but having everything low down could get awkward when I couldn’t bend my left leg. It wouldn’t be great for Tucker either. “Thanks, man,” I said, too sore and tired to try arguing with him as I let my eyes drift shut. “I appreciate that.” His words seemed to shake Sara out of her

stupor. “Oh no! You have to have your room back! I’m so sorry! I’ll move out. I’ll . . .” “No, you won’t,” I said tersely. “Tucker’s got it figured out. Just leave it.” Everyone in the truck fell silent so suddenly that I opened my eyes. Tucker was shaking his head and Aimee was throwing me a filthy look. “What?” Nobody spoke. “What?! I’m not making a pregnant girl give up her room.” “I think it was the way you sweet-talked her, bro,” Tucker said, still shaking his head. When I looked at Sara she was crying. Again. Great. I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. I couldn’t deal with her shit as well as my own. I also suspected that I’d acted like an asshole to her. Hell. She seemed to bring it out of me.

It was weird being back in the RV after twelve days of sleeping outside. Tucker had changed the sheets and cleared out some of his shit to make space for me and my gimpy leg, but I was hyper aware that Sara was next door and I could hear her moving around. I felt like I should apologize to her, although I wasn’t sure for what. But I did seem to make her cry a lot, and I couldn’t tell if that was normal for her or because she was pregnant. I tried to take a nap but despite feeling exhausted, I couldn’t rest. My leg throbbed, my head throbbed, and I was beginning to feel aches and pains in other parts of my body, as well. The drugs called to me, but I wouldn’t give in, not even an Advil. I didn’t dare. Being an addict, ex-addict, recovering addict or whatever I was supposed to call myself, pain meds were the first step on a slippery fucking slope, and I didn’t want to go back to being that person. But doing the right thing didn’t lessen the pain. The room was hot and stuffy, and the light outside was too bright. All around me the carnival was alive and I was laying here like a side of beef.

I sat up and swung out of bed awkwardly, gritting my teeth as pain washed over my body making me sway. I couldn’t help noticing that Tucker had left a pint of whiskey in the bottom of his small closet, and that was more tempting than anything right now. I sighed. The lesser of two evils. Maybe I’d risk a different sort of medication later. I sat on the edge of the bed and managed to get a pair of baggy shorts over the brace. I was told I had to wear it 24/7 for the first five days. Yeah, I knew the drill. And loathed it. But it was my own damn fault. I positioned the crutches under my arms and we had lift off. Sara looked up from her book as I thumped into the living area, and she put her arms on her hips, pissed like a tiny yapping Chihuahua that thinks it’s a Rottweiler. “You’re supposed to be resting! Why are you even awake right now? The doctor gave you sleeping pills—did you even take them? Why are you being such a stubborn ass? It’s so dumb!” “Whoa! What the fuck?” She stuck her lip out like a mule. “Did you, Zef?” “Why do you care?” I grumped, stomping over to pull a bottle of water out of the fridge and nearly toppling over. She elbowed me out of the way and took the

bottle out for me, raising an eyebrow and pointing at the sofa. “Why don’t you drink that sitting down,” she said snarkily, “otherwise we’ll be sweeping bits of you up off the floor.” I hid a smile behind my beard. I couldn’t help liking this new, improved feisty version of Sara. It definitely beat the one who was a puddle of tears all the time. I sat my ass on the sofa and took a long pull at the water, then grinned at her. She folded her arms and sat opposite me, still trying to look pissed. “What? I’m sitting, aren’t I?” “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I guess you are. You must be smarter than you look after all.” I was so shocked, my mouth dropped open. I didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or come back swinging. In the end, I did neither. “Some might say that’s a little insulting.” She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft pink, but she held her ground. “You have to be smart when you’re injured,” she said. “I used to play softball and when I . . .” Her words trailed off, but I leaned forward, intrigued. “When you played softball?” I repeated back to her encouragingly. Her lips stayed closed, and I leaned back,

watching her in silence. We stared at each other for a few seconds. “How did your doctor’s appointment go? You never said.” Her eyes dropped to her hands, now gripping each other in her lap. “I’m sorry you got injured,” she said stiffly, still staring down. “Yeah, me too, but it’s not the first time.” She looked up, tears hovering in her eyes again. Please, no. “But it’s all my fault you got hurt! If my doctor’s appointment hadn’t run over, you’d have had time to warm up and . . .” “Sara, no. My knee has been twinging for days now. I should have known better than to ride today. Hell, I did know better, so don’t go blaming yourself. I mean it.” “Really?” “Really. I had ACL surgery fourteen months ago. I was warned this could happen again if I continued riding, doing stunts.” She gasped a little. “But . . . then you should stop!” I shook my head and gave her a small smile. “Guess I’m not so smart after all, huh?” She blinked, her eyes wide and worried. “You’re young,” I continued seriously, “so maybe you don’t know what it’s like to be . . .

addicted to somethin’. Some folks drink, some take drugs, some listen to Justin Bieber—” at this she gave a small smile. “There’s all sorts of weird addictions out there. I’m addicted to this.” “But . . . but you could get really hurt again. Surely you could do something else?” I leaned back, watching her face, emotions written so clearly across them. “And what else is it that you think I could do?” She screwed up her eyes and wrung her hands. “I don’t know! Lots of stuff!” She sounded so young when she said things like that. “I’m good at this,” I explained patiently. “Well, when I’m not falling on my ass—and it’s been good to me. The only other thing I can do is fix bikes and old cars, but I’m not cut out to work in a repair shop all day long. The carnival is my home. Where’s your home, Sara?” She looked away and bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I like it here.” “The Daredevils, Zach and Ollo will be heading to Pomona on Monday,” I said gently. “That’s in Southern California. The rest of the carnival will carry on traveling around the North West until Labor Day. Then they’ll be going to winter quarters, everyone going different places until the Spring.” “Oh! I didn’t realize that you . . . I didn’t

know.” “We’ll be working Pomona until Thanksgiving and then we take a break, too. Three months. Kes and Aimee will be going up to Arcata where they’ve got a log cabin, so are Luke and Zach. Tucker will be with Tera in LA.” “What about you?” she whispered. “I don’t have any plans. Sometimes I go to see my brother in Georgia . . .” “You have a brother?!” “Yeah, I have a brother. Why are you surprised? I was born just like everyone else, not hatched.” “Oh no, I don’t mean . . . I just thought . . .” I leaned forward and stared at her. “One of these days you’re gonna finish a sentence.” She gave a half smile, her lips curving up just a little. “Sara, I’m gonna say this once, then it’s up to you. But . . . if you’ve got anyone who might be missing you or worried about you, you should call them. Even if . . . things were bad when you left, you should let your friends know that you’re okay. You don’t have to tell them where you are.” She was saved answering because at that moment Bo scampered through the door, followed a second later by Ollo. Bo climbed up on my knee and snuggled

against me, light as a cat, wrapping his tail around my wrist. Sara gave a little jump then laughed. “I’m still not used to him,” she giggled. Ollo’s glance flipped between us and he smiled. “Bo loves Zef. He thinks they’re related and I can definitely see the resemblance, although Zef is hairier.” Sara giggled again. It was good to hear her laugh for a change. “Yeah, Bo’s a handsome bastard,” I said with a grin. “I think he’s really cute,” Sara said, a mischievous smile on her face. “Can I hold him?” “Sure, you just have to ask him.” She gave me a skeptical look. “Ask him?” “Yup.” “Are you serious?” “Just ask him, Sara.” “Fine! I will. Bo, would you like to come sit with me?” And she held out her arms. Bo’s head turned when she called his name. He studied her for a moment and then leapt across the small table, landing in her lap. Sara gave a squeal and Bo chattered at her angrily. “He doesn’t like loud noises,” Ollo chided. “Oh, sorry! Sorry, Bo,” she said, stroking his fur

as he examined her face with his knowing eyes. Then he curled up on her lap, sucked his paw for a moment and closed his eyes. “Oh!” she said again softly. “He trusts you,” Ollo said approvingly. “And you probably smell better than the Grizzly over there.” I shot Ollo a look. It was true that I hadn’t showered since the accident. I was probably a little ripe. “I can take a hint,” I said grumpily, reaching for my crutches. Ollo laughed. “Then my work here is done.” And he swung his small body out of the door. “You’re supposed to be resting,” Sara reminded me gently. “I promise I’ll rest after I’ve showered.” “Promise?” “Scout’s honor.” “Hmm. Were you ever a Boy Scout?” “Nope, but I still know how to tie some good knots,” and I winked at her. She blushed bright red, her mind clearly going to the gutter. That surprised me, but hell, the thought of Sara and knots was giving me a semi. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. She’s eighteen! I had to remind myself several times as I hopped out of the room. Showering was awkward and tiring, too. In the

end, I just let hot water sluice my body without trying to use soap as well, sticking my left leg out of the shower door to keep it dry. Inevitably, I ended up soaking the bathroom floor. I was trying to clean up when Sara came in, carrying Bo like a baby. His eyes were closed, but his tiny paws were wound tightly in the material of her t-shirt, his tail coiled around her thin arm. I had a strong visceral reaction that shocked me. For the first time I truly understood that she was going to be a mother one day not so long from now. She had a glow about her, an inner peace, and the sunlight caught her pale blonde hair, making it shimmer like a halo. “What?” she asked cautiously. “Do I have something on my face?” I swallowed and looked down. “No, nope. You’re good.” “Zef,” she said patiently, as I tried to drag a towel across the floor to mop up. “What are you doing?” “I got the floor wet.” “I see that. Now move out of the way so I can clean up.” “I can do . . .” “Shut up and let me help you.” Her words silenced me, so I watched for a second, then shuffled out of her way as she efficiently cleaned the floor and took the wet

towels, shoving them in the washing machine. “Now go get dressed and I’ll fix you something to eat.” “I’m fi—” “Stop arguing.” I held my hands up in defeat and hopped back to Tucker’s room to get dressed. She was confusing the crap out of me and I didn’t know what to make of it. One moment she was quiet and submissive, the next bossy as hell. I grappled with another pair of shorts but didn’t bother trying to put on socks and sneakers. Besides, it was too hot. I was pleased to see that Sara had put together some sandwiches on the table outside. I eased myself into a deck chair and pulled down my sunglasses, squinting out at the evening sun. Sara came and sat beside me, handing me a cold glass. I took a sip and looked up surprised. She shrugged. “You said you were from Georgia so I thought . . . well, I hope you like iced tea.” I nodded, touched that she’d bothered to do this for me. I hadn’t had homemade iced tea in years, and immediately I was engulfed in memories of my mother making large pitchers of it in the summer. “You don’t have to drink it,” she said

uncertainly as I examined the glass in my hand. “I can get you a beer . . .” I grasped her wrist as she went to stand up. “It’s real nice. Thank you.” She gave me a sweet smile and settled back into her seat. I sat sipping my tea and watching the carnie families setting about making their evening meals. Someone had lit the bonfire already and I could hear Luke playing his guitar. “I . . . I did what you told me,” Sara said quietly. I frowned. “What did I tell you?” “To call my . . . friends.” “Oh. Right. How’d that go?” She grimaced. “About as well as I’d expected, but at least they know I’m okay. But I told them I’m not going home.” “You sure about that?” She nodded her head. “Yes. I’m not going back.” She meant what she said. I could tell by the intensity of her gaze and her words that she had no doubt. My mind started going a little crazy trying to work out what could have happened to make her so determined not to go home. I could tell she came from somewhere pretty

okay. In the sense that I’d met other kids, the ones who’d had to live by their street smarts to survive, and Sara wasn’t like that. She was too trusting, too naïve. I was sad to think that she’d have to toughen up a helluva lot to make it. I didn’t say any of that to her. Instead, I picked on the least inconsequential part of what she said. “So, you have a phone?” She gave me an impatient look. “I pay for it myself! I have . . . I had a job after school at a camera shop.” “You like taking photos?” Her face lit up and I couldn’t help thinking that she had a beautiful smile. “Yes! I love it! I took all the photographs for my school newspaper.” Her smile fell away as suddenly as it had come. “Anyway, I love it.” “Get any shots of the carnival?” I asked, taking another sip of my iced tea as the glass sweated in my hand, becoming slippery. The smile returned. “Oh yes! I have a ton!” “Can I see them?” Her cheeks turned pink and she nodded shyly. She pulled an iPhone out of her pocket, went to the photo app, and handed it to me. The phone must have a great zoom feature because she’d gotten some really good close-up shots of kids eating cotton candy and funnel cake;

one of a teenage boy trying to eat a corndog like he was doing a sword swallowing act; pictures of little kids with stuffed toys bigger than they were; and the expressions on people’s faces as they rode on rides, played on the bumper cars or just strolled along the midway. I could almost smell the scent of fried onions, sunscreen and sweat. I was impressed. She’d also taken a ton of pictures of the carnies on rest days—just ordinary family life: hanging out washing, talking around the bonfire, reading books, having breakfast. But lots of pictures of us at work, too—the good days and the bad days. She’d caught the boredom and misery of the rainy days when the crowds don’t come, or when machinery breaks down, or someone was scrabbling around trying to find a doctor or a dentist, knowing that if you don’t perform you don’t earn. There were close-ups of me and the guys getting ready for a show: Tucker horsing around and Kes getting him in a headlock; then all of us suiting up and looking serious. I didn’t remember her taking those photos—she must have been standing where we couldn’t see her, although how she managed to get one of me appearing to stare at the camera with my helmet on, but before I’d lowered the visor, I don’t know. My eyes seemed to burn with intensity as I stared at the viewer, but I knew I’d been looking at nothing, just getting in the zone ready for a show.

She’d caught some epic pictures of the stunts in action and some slo-mo videos that were really good, and I knew that Zach would want to use them on our website. But as I flipped through the images, I began to realize that there were more photographs of me than of anyone else. Me getting suited up; me bathed in sweat after a show; me smiling; me frowning; me tearing off my leathers and pouring a bottle of water over my face as the water ran down my bare chest. When I glanced up, she was studying my face with concern, sucking her teeth nervously and twisting her fingers together in her lap. I tried for something neutral to say, something that wouldn’t embarrass either of us. “You’ve got some good pictures there. I reckon Zach could use some of them.” She gave me a small smile, but a worried frown still played across her forehead. “Have I creeped you out?” That made me smile. “No, you’re good. I guess I should be flattered.” She gave a relieved laugh. “Oh thank you! I suddenly thought it might look a bit weird, a bit stalkerish.” Yep, my mind definitely went there. “That phone of yours must have a pretty good camera.”

“It’s not bad. I had a really amazing digital SLR camera, but . . .” I met her eyes. “Guess you left that behind.” She nodded and looked down. “One day you’ll tell me what you’re running from,” I said quietly. Her expression was solemn as she looked up. She didn’t agree with me, but she didn’t deny it either. I blew out a slow breath. “Well, seeing as you have no plans, I guess you’d better come with us to Pomona then. Once we’re there you can figure out . . .” I didn’t get to finish my sentence because she threw herself at me, almost toppling the chair over. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it!” I was half regretting it already. But I couldn’t leave her behind either. The world was a hard place and she needed someone to look out for her. I just wished that she hadn’t picked me.

The next morning, I was up before dawn. I knew that Luke was driving the 170 miles to Seattle to get the gears fixed on his 390 Duke. There was a KTM dealership in the city who had an on-site auto shop and he’d arranged to be there early. Since it was a three hour drive and he had to be back for the first show at 4PM, he was leaving as the first fingers of light hovered at the edge of the horizon. I hadn’t slept well and at the last minute I decided to go with him. It was either that or torture myself by thinking about the pain meds waiting, hidden at the bottom of my backpack, then sit on my ass and watch everyone else work all day. His bike was already loaded into the truck, so we left quietly before anyone else was awake. To be honest, I was glad to be away from the carnival for a while. Away from Sara. The girl confused the hell out of me. She brought out a protective side that I barely knew existed. The last time I’d felt even a fraction of what I was feeling now was when Kes broke his back in an accident and we were all trying to stop Aimee from falling apart. I felt the need to protect

her then, as well. As it turned out, she’d been tougher than she looked and she was the one who’d kept the whole outfit running: taking care of Kes and supporting him in his decision not to have surgery, even contacting his lame-ass father to try and help with the astronomical medical bills. Kes hadn’t been happy about that, but it did mean that he’d gotten to meet his half-sister, Tera. It was a few months after that when Tera and Tucker had started seeing each other. Who the hell saw that one coming? The senator’s daughter and the roughneck roustabout. Stranger things have happened. But Sara . . . In some ways she was an open book, but in others a complete mystery. I wondered about the father of her baby far more than I should. I think I was expecting him to turn up at the carnival to claim her, to take her back. But as each day passed and the closer it came for us to leave for Pomona, the more I hoped that he wouldn’t show up. And I know how selfish that sounds. “Your knee hurting you?” I turned my head, surprised by Luke’s question. “Nah, man,” I lied. “Hmm, well, you look like you’re having some mighty deep thoughts over there.” “You’re not talking to Tucker now,” I shot back.

He grinned. “You thinking about Sara?” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Maybe.” He smiled knowingly. “She’s nice, you should go for it.” “Ya think? Even though she’s pregnant with another man’s baby, is hiding from her family, and oh yeah, just happens to be fourteen years younger than me.” He didn’t answer immediately, but that was Luke for you—he liked to think things over before he said them. Didn’t necessarily make him right; just meant he’d thought about it. At least that’s what I told myself. When he did speak, his voice was serious. “Does any of that matter if you really like her? Because the way she looks at you, I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve cured cancer lately.” “She’s just infatuated. Like . . . like a chick that’s just hatched and latches onto the first thing it sees, whether it’s dog or a cat or a damn rock.” “So? You could be her pet rock.” I ignored that. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just trying to get a laugh. Man, you’ve been Mr. Serious since she arrived. The girl has no idea that you can even smile. You need to lighten up around her. Stop trying to push her away.”

“For fuck’s sake!” I snarled, slamming the dashboard with my fist. “She should stay away from me! I’m no fucking good for her! I’m an excon with a history of drug addiction. I’m her worst fucking nightmare!” Luke was silent and I leaned back in my seat, furious that I’d lost my temper, helpless to stop the emotions churning inside me, hopeless that there’d ever be a good outcome. I could no longer deny that Sara had somehow worked her way under my skin. “I think,” Luke said slowly, “that her worst nightmare is whatever she’s running away from.” I didn’t answer, but I wish I knew what was hurting her. When we went inside to talk bike at the KTM dealership, one of the guys in the auto shop recognized us. So we ended up signing a few programs and getting our picture taken. Apparently, a video of my most recent accident had already made it to YouTube, and soon the whole shop was watching it and commenting. They all agreed that I’d been damned unlucky. I had to agree. Luke went to work with their mechanic to figure out why the gear was sticking in neutral and I shot the breeze with a couple of the guys until some more customers came in. I watched Luke work for a while, frustrated that I couldn’t help, then decided to go for a walk

(hop and shuffle) down the street. I was just about to sit my ass down and drink a cup of Starbucks in the town that invented it, when I noticed a shop across the road that sold large black and white photographic prints and cameras. Despite how I was feeling after my cozy little chat with Luke, I didn’t consider myself dumb. I knew how people looked at me, what they think when they see the beard, the tats, the leather jacket. Most think biker first, or start looking to see if I’m patched up, because that always scares the shit out of people. Not everyone, of course, but enough that I noticed it. So when I swung my crutches over the threshold of that upscale art shop, I already knew that I didn’t fit there. It didn’t bother me, in fact a lot of the time, I got a laugh out of it. At least the assistant knew that I wasn’t on a shoplifting spree—unless I was the dumbest criminal around. I suppose there were enough of those. I wouldn’t be doing a snatch and grab. “Hi there! May I help you with something.” “Yeah, I was just wondering—how much does a good camera cost?” She looked surprised and amused. “Well, the model would depend on what you want to do with it—whether it’s a hobby or for work.” “It’s for a friend. She lost her camera, but she

likes taking photographs of people, well, of everything around her. Some distance shots, some close-ups, action shots, too, motorcycles. She’s good, could be really good. I’ve seen some of the photographs she took on her iPhone and they’re amazing. I want to get her a camera that’s even better. Maybe one with a video app, too. She used to have a SLR, but she . . . lost it. I’d like to replace it. Something with a good zoom function, I guess.” The woman looked at me thoughtfully. “You don’t know what she had before?” “No, ma’am.” “Well, there’s the Nikon Coolpix L340 with 28x Zoom Bridge Camera, and that retails for $199.99.” I nodded, so she continued. “Or at the other end of the scale is the Nikon D810—it’s a DSLR with excellent resolution, a robust build—a good value camera. This retails at $3,399.99.” She smiled again. “And we have pretty much every price range in between.” I appreciated her being candid but I wasn’t sure how much that helped me when I knew nothing about digital SLR cameras. I scratched my chin. “What would someone who’s interested in photojournalism buy?”

Her eyes lit up. “In that case . . . !” And she rattled out facts about reporters working in the field and sending shots back to the office, super speed USB and connectivity, wi-fi compatibility, zooms, attachments, until my head spun. I couldn’t blame her; it was the equivalent of someone who rode a bicycle walking into the KTM dealership and asking if they had something with two wheels and an engine. I ended up shelling out for a camera, zoom attachment, tripod and a bunch of other shit to the tune of four grand. I didn’t care—I wanted to get Sara something that would last. With some difficulty, I slung my bag of purchases over my shoulder and limped out the door. Luke was just finishing up and loading his bike back into the truck. He saw the bag on my shoulder and stowed it behind my seat in the truck for me. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t ask questions. On the way back to Moses Lake, we talked about adaptations to the show now there were only three riders, and whether or not the ramps needed to be modified after my latest accident. We’d even thought about doing a Globe of Death like some motorcycle acts, but personally, I found those as boring as shit, but they worked well for smaller environments like a Big Top. Our jumps were about

scale: higher, longer, more dangerous. I’m not saying that the spherical cages they used for the Globe of Death acts were easy, hell, no. It required extreme precision and pinpoint timing. I’d seen a Brazilian team where they had seven them in the cage. Seven motorcycles spinning around in there. Impressive. But ultimately, just a cage. I’d had enough of those. We were nearly home when he said, “When you buy someone gifts, it means you’re interested in them.” “She’s a friend.” “She won’t see it like that. You already know that she . . . cares about you.” I rubbed my eyes, tiredness catching up with me. “I just want to do something nice for her—she doesn’t have anything.” He gave me a sideways glance. “Aimee plans to take her clothes shopping and we’re all going to pitch in a couple of hundred bucks since she doesn’t have any clothes of her own. You want in?” “Of course I do! How come no one told me about this?” “Because you were in the hospital having your knee put back together and you’ve been a miserable asshole ever since.” Oh, yeah.

And clothes were a lot more practical than a damn camera. I was having second and third thoughts about my impulsive purchase, wondering what message it would give her. I’d just wanted to do something nice because she seemed so lost. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry, because when we arrived back at the carnival, she wasn’t speaking to me. She saw the truck arrive and gave Luke a strained smile and a wave. “Hi, Luke,” then walked away. I stared at her retreating figure then turned to Luke. “Did that really just happen?” “Totally did. What have you done to piss her off now?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Breathe?” He shook his head, grinning to himself, and wheeled the bike back to the rig. I stomped inside the RV but Sara had disappeared. I slung the bag of camera accessories onto her bed and took a quick shower, then collapsed into a deck chair outside. My leg was killing me and I knew I should have rested it this morning, but sitting around with time to think wasn’t something I enjoyed, but now I had no choice. So I propped my leg up on another chair and closed my eyes, letting the sun’s heat soak into

my body. I think I must have fallen asleep because when I woke the sun had shifted and Sara was staring at me, the camera bag clutched in her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Seattle?” “What?” I croaked, my brain playing catch up. “I woke up and you were gone!” “I was with Luke.” “I know that now!” Her tone was irritating me, but I tried to stay calm. “I couldn’t sleep and Luke was leaving early; I didn’t want to wake anyone.” She deflated a little at that, but then held out the bag. “What’s this for?” Her tone was aggressive and her mouth was clamped in a thin line. Her eyes were flashing in a most un-Sara like way. “It’s a gift,” I said patiently. “What for?” I rubbed a hand across my beard. “A late birthday present?” She tapped her foot on the grass. “Why are you buying me thousands of dollars’ worth of camera equipment, Zef?!” I held her gaze. “Because you’re good. Because I saw what you

could do with your cell phone and I could tell that you missed having a decent camera when you talked about your school newspaper.” “You can’t just go off and buy me stuff like this!” I closed my eyes again. “If you don’t want it, get Zach to drive you to Seattle and you can take it back.” There was a long pause. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it.” Then an even longer pause. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” My eyes flew open when I felt her lips on my cheek. She hovered beside me, her mouth inches from mine, and then she stepped away slowly, her cheeks stained with pink. Desire. I felt those first warm, sweet tendrils of desire snaking through my body. I followed her with my eyes, taking in those long, coltish legs, the slight curve of her hips, her still narrow waist, her small apple breasts, her long neck, her delicate heartshaped face, the long silky hair and those pale blue eyes, now watching me watching her without fear; watching me watching her with hunger in our eyes. And then she turned away, hugging the camera bag to her chest as she walked back inside the RV.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. She’s not for you. Two days later, we left for Pomona. No one had come for Sara. I knew it was wrong to feel relief, but I did. Deep, heartfelt relief that she’d be traveling with us for a little longer. The night before, we’d had a huge bonfire and all the carnies had come, Kes promising that we’d be traveling with them again in the Spring as we said our goodbyes. The Reynolds family who owned the carnival knew that without his name on their billboard, making money would be a lot harder. They didn’t say it, but they counted on us to bring in the crowds for the first part of the season. Moses Lake was their last big hurrah before they started touring the smaller fairgrounds. I felt bad for them and I knew that Kes did, too. We were heading in different directions: they’d be touring small rural towns in the north west, getting maybe a couple of thousand people each day, if they were lucky, and we’d be heading to a square mile site and ten thousand people at each of our racetrack arena performances. I climbed into the rig, frustrated at how long everything took with my gimpy leg. I saw Tucker watching but he didn’t offer to help because he knew I’d turn him down. It was going to be harder work for him because

we didn’t have a spare driver, so he’d be doing the whole of the journey, 1200 miles and at least twenty hours of driving, probably more. The plan was to spend the night at Kes and Aimee’s log cabin in Arcata which was just over halfway, take a short breather, then finish the drive the day after. Tucker pressed the start button on the rig and it roared into life, vibrations making the chassis tremble, and I felt the usual excitement that we’d be hitting the road, the possibilities of new places. Just as he was about to pull out, Sara jumped in front of him, waving wildly. “Can I ride with you guys?” He gave a huge smile. “I know I’m irresistible, sweet cheeks, but you don’t have to embarrass us by throwing yourself at me.” Her cheeks turned pink and I punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole.” “Sorry, I forgot that job’s already taken,” he shot back. I opened the door and swung out, hopping slightly as I landed on my good leg. Sara gave me a quick smile and climbed in. She had a sweet butt, small and round and perfect. I closed my eyes and tried not to groan. For the next twelve hours, I’d be staring at those long, suntanned legs stretched out

in front of me. God hated me. There was no other explanation. She made herself comfortable, wiggling in her seat. I had to look away: left leg in a brace, a small confined space and a hard-on—not a good combination. I noticed that she had her camera bag with her and she started taking snaps even before I’d sat down again. “It’s a really great camera,” she whispered to me as I buckled my seatbelt, her breath brushing across my cheek. “Thank you.” I nodded, trying not to look at her. “Aw, don’t mind him, sweet cheeks,” Tucker laughed. “He’s just a grumpy ole grizzly with a bark worse than his bite. He loves you really.” Her mouth dropped open, uncertainty flashing in her eyes as her gaze flickered from him to me. “Shut the fuck up, Tucker!” Sara closed her mouth, but an almost imperceptible smile curved her pink lips into a perfect cupid’s bow. We drove from the fairground, the huge tires kicking up a cloud of yellow dust. Kes and Aimee were in the lead, followed by Zach driving Ollo’s RV; then Sara, me and Tucker in the rig; and bringing up the rear was Luke driving his and Zach’s RV with the old truck getting towed and enjoying a free ride.

Tucker turned on the radio, some station that played country tunes, and started whistling along. I rolled my eyes—soon he’d be singing. Guy was the happiest man I knew: it was annoying. Of course, the fact that he’d be seeing Tera in a couple of days helped. I felt an unfamiliar lick of jealousy—not that I wanted Tera, she was like a sister to me, but I felt a pull toward something that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. I didn’t know the score with Sara’s family, but wondering about her parents had made me think about mine more than usual lately. In any case, I was really glad that I’d be seeing my brother next month. A few minutes later, Tucker did start singing, but Sara surprised me by joining in and I couldn’t help turning my head to watch her. She caught my eye and gave me a wide, happy smile. Someone else was pleased to be leaving Washington. I wondered for the thousandth time what she was running away from. “Tell me about your girlfriend, Tucker?” Tucker grinned as he cast a look at Sara. “You want to know what kind of lucky woman has taken this fine specimen off the market?” he grinned. Guy was an idiot. “No, I was just wondering what poor woman you conned into dating you,” Sara sassed back.

I couldn’t help laughing out loud and she turned to me in shock. “Oh wow, you just laughed!” Tucker went into a fit of hysterics at that and I had to reach across Sara and grip the steering wheel to stop him from driving off the road. “I laugh,” I said, irritated. “I just don’t go around cackling like a fool, unlike some people,” and I shot an annoyed glance at Tucker, which just made him laugh even harder until he was coughing violently. Sara gave a small giggle and then she was laughing too, half snorting, which made them both laugh harder. I folded my arms across my chest, staring out of the window. “We’re not laughing at you,” Sara said softly, a worried look on her face. “I am!” Tucker croaked, wiping his eyes. And I may have smiled when she slapped his arm. “Ow,” he said, rubbing his bicep as he grinned at me. “So, what’s Tera really like?” This time Sara asked me. “She’s great—pretty and smart, except for her lapse in judgment when she started dating this baboon. Kes tolerates it.” Sara frowned.

“Why would Kes care who Tucker dates?” “Tera is his sister.” “Oh!” Her eyes opened wide. “I didn’t know he had a sister. How come she doesn’t travel with the carnival?” “She’s his half-sister. They didn’t grow up together—in fact they only met for the first time last year.” Tucker had an uncharacteristic frown on his face. “Their father’s an asshole,” he said under his breath. Sara bit her lip, worried that she’d upset him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Not your fault, sweet cheeks,” Tucker said somberly. “Family life—it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Then he glanced at her. “This is our family now.” There was an awkward pause before he continued. “Anyhoo, you’ll like Tera—she’s good people.” We were all silent for a moment, then Tucker filled the gap again. “Kes talks to his brother Con sometimes—he’s a pilot in the Air Force. Ollo says, Con couldn’t wait to get away from carnie life. Our man here,” and he cocked his head at me, “he’s about the only one of us who actually likes his family.” “You’re lucky,” Sara said, I heard the wistfulness in her voice.

“Still planning to see Dan at his pre-season game?” “Yup.” Tucker rolled his eyes at my terse reply. “Grumpy over there, his little brother is a big time football player—starting quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons.” “Oh wow! That’s a really good team!” She sounded so surprised that I raised an eyebrow as I glanced at her. “He scored the winning touchdown at the Rose Bowl with his college team the year before last,” Tucker proudly informed her. Her eyes grew even bigger. “That is amazing! You’re this big time stunt rider and your brother is a big shot football player! Wow! Your parents must be so proud!” There was another uncomfortable silence while Tucker gripped the wheel and I stared straight ahead before turning to look at her. “Our parents died in a car accident. Long time ago now.” I paused, wondering how they’d feel about the road I’d taken. “Yeah, I think they would have been proud.” And as I said the words, a weight lifted from my shoulders, a weight that I didn’t know I’d been carrying. I’d fucked up, made bad choices, trusted the wrong people, but since joining the Daredevils I’d worked hard and kept my nose clean, and now I

was fairly well known and respected in the stunt riding community. So yeah, I think my parents would have been proud of me. Sara’s quick emotions swept across her face and she picked up my left hand in both of hers, squeezing my fingers. Tucker gave me a small grin and winked at me. “Aw, kids! Are we having a Kodak moment?” I didn’t even bother to tell him to fuck off. Holding Sara’s hand felt nice but when I looked up at her, she was wearing a worried smile. I squeezed her hand once more and released it, laying it carefully in her lap.

Tucker brought the rig to a halt, slumping with tiredness as the engine died—the sudden silence woke Sara. For the last two hours she’d been sleeping against my shoulder, soft and warm as I wrapped my arm around her protectively. Her eyes met mine and she smiled, arching her back like a cat. There was no embarrassment that she’d been using me as a pillow; if anything, she looked pleased with herself. Then she turned to look out of the window and her eyes glowed with pleasure. The evening sky blazed pink, purple, orange, turning to a deep blue as the horizon met the Pacific Ocean. The sun was huge and blood red, sinking toward the water as waves rolled restlessly onto the dunes below. I swung down from the cab, stiff and awkward, then holding out my hand to Sara to help her. “Beautiful,” she breathed. I couldn’t help agreeing, but I wasn’t looking at the scenery. “Aimee and Kes live here?”

“Yep.” Tucker knocked into my crutch, making me stumble, and I fumed as he slung a casual arm around Sara’s shoulders. “Kes’s family have wintered here for generations,” he told her. “But he owns this land now. When he and Aimee got together, he wanted to give her somewhere permanent, somewhere she could call home.” Sara’s expression became wistful. Maybe she was thinking of her own home. The thought was like ground glass in my stomach. The three RVs rumbled up behind us, bouncing along the potholed road, a cloud of sandy dust billowing around them as they parked a short distance from Kes and Aimee’s log cabin. Bo came scampering out of Ollo’s RV, climbing up my crutch and sitting on my shoulder, chattering loudly as he tugged at my beard. “Hey, lil fella. How ya doin’?” “They sure make a cute couple,” Tucker laughed. If I’d had a free hand, I’d have given him the finger. “If your brain was as fast as your mouth, Tucker, it might be waking up to this morning’s breakfast about now.” “You’re sure gettin’ grumpy in your old age, Zef.”

“Motherfucker! I’m only a year older than you!” Sara shrugged out from underneath Tucker’s shoulder. “Stop being mean to him,” she said, giving him a little push. “His leg is hurting.” And she turned to me. “Isn’t it?” “Yeah, aching somethin’ fierce.” She came over immediately and put her arm around my waist so I could lean on her. I raised an eyebrow at Tucker and he gave me a cheesy grin. Aimee opened up the log cabin while the rest of us took a walk down to the beach to stretch our legs, relieved not to be in an air conditioned cab any longer. She opened her mouth as if she was going to tell me not to attempt it since I was still on crutches, but I ignored the look she gave me. I hated being cooped up. The air smelled of salt, fresh and clean. My crutches sank into the soft sand, but Sara never left my side and I liked that a lot. She made me stop twice so she could take pictures, but I didn’t mind that one bit. I was happy to watch her, intensity in her expression as she framed her shot, captivated by whatever she was seeing. It was at times like this that she seemed older than her eighteen years of age. And at times like this it had me hoping for things I had no

business hoping for. Luke, Zach and Ollo collected scrub and driftwood to make a bonfire, and Kes pulled out his phone to call a pizza place in town. We were all hungry and tired, and part of me wished we could stay here for a few days, but we’d be moving on soon, traveling on, because that’s what we did, that was our life. As the air cooled, we strolled, hopped and walked back to the log cabin. “What a beautiful place to have a home,” Sara said to Aimee. “Thank you. But really it’s home for all of us— at least that’s the plan.” “What do you mean?” “Well, there used to be more log cabins on the site and although some of the older carnies have places in town, when Kes bought the land, we had an idea that one day we’d all build cabins here, too, and maybe another one that we could use as a guest house. A sort of commune for carnies,” and she laughed. “Luke and Zach have nearly finished theirs. They’re hoping to move in by New Year’s.” “Wow, that’s amazing! What a great idea!” “I really hope we can make it happen. The last two winters . . . well, it didn’t happen, but maybe this winter . . . Zef was talking about starting to build his cabin, as well. I don’t know if Tucker will now he’s got Tera in Los Angeles. And I think Ollo

prefers his RV.” Aimee shrugged. “It will always be home if and when the boys want it—they know that.” Sara’s shoulders sagged and I longed to take the weight of sadness from her. An hour later, we’d just sat down to pizza when Sara got a call on her cell phone. Her face paled and she murmured a quick apology before she stood up and walked away from the bonfire to take the call. Aimee watched her leave, then turned her eyes to me. “Who’s calling her?” I shrugged. “You don’t know? She hasn’t told you anything?” I was annoyed by her tone but I knew that it came from a good place—just a fucking annoying one. “No, and I’m not asking her. If she wants to talk, she will.” Aimee shook her head in disappointment. “You’re supposed to be her friend!” I saw Kes throw her a warning glance which she either didn’t see or ignored, but it was too late and my temper exploded. “Stop pushing me, Aimee! You think this is one of your fucking fairytales? You think her happy

ending should be with me? Wake the fuck up!” Kes was on his feet in a second. “Don’t talk to her like that, man. Just because you’re on crutches, it doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of you!” “Go ahead, Kestrel,” I spit at him. “Take a swing. If it teaches your wife to keep her fucking mouth shut and stop poking her nose in my business then it’ll be worth . . .” And that’s when he hit me. I flailed backwards, tripping over my crutches and landing hard on my back, winded, staring up at the starlit sky. Aimee was yelling, and Tucker and Zach were each holding Kes’s arms, although he didn’t make any further move to come after me. As I continued to lay on the ground, furious and guilty, Ollo’s small frame came into view. He stared down at me. “You deserved that.” Then he reached out his hand and I grasped it, letting him pull me up. For a short, old guy, he was surprisingly strong. Aimee was crying now, clinging to Kes while he stared at me stonily. Zach shook his head and Luke looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. I knew how he felt. I shook off Ollo’s hand, grabbed my crutches and stumped down to the beach. I heard the rush of

light footsteps behind me and Bo’s quiet chirruping distress as he climbed up to sit on my shoulder. He hated noise, hated shouting. “I guess you’re the only one speaking to me now,” I sighed. He chattered quietly, tugging my beard. “Yeah, I know. I’m a prick. I suppose I’ll have to apologize to Aimee, but I really wish that she’d shut the fuck up about me and Sara. I like her, of course I fucking do, but nothing can happen there. I can’t allow it.” I found a hollow in the dunes and eased myself down, feeling the cool sand under my hands. Bo curled up in my lap and fell asleep listening to the waves lapping against the shore. A full moon lit the sky and dark clouds sent violet shadows scudding across the reedy grass. Maybe the trickster was out tonight—it would explain why I was acting so crazed. I leaned back, staring upward, ignoring the trickle of blood that seeped from my nose to my beard. I had a feeling my lip was swelling up, too. I should probably ice it. I should probably do a lot of things differently, but I couldn’t seem to care. My mind was drifting, self-pity thickening the disgust in my gut, when I noticed a gleam of light further down the beach. After a second, I realized that it must be Sara with her cell phone. She was moving this way and I knew I should let her walk

past me, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. “Sara, you okay?” She jumped a little when she heard my voice. “Zef?” “Over here.” She changed direction and walked towards me, almost falling over my crutches in the shadowy hollow. “You okay?” “I was going to ask you that,” and I wondered if she heard the smile in my voice. She crouched down next to me and I could see that she was shivering in her thin t-shirt, her bare legs covered in goosebumps. “C’mere,” I offered, lifting my arm so she could scoot under it. Bo woke up, chirruping his annoyance at being disturbed, then scampered off. “Oh! I didn’t mean to upset him!” “Don’t worry about him—it’s past his bedtime anyway.” She gave a soft giggle that tugged at my hard heart and snuggled closer. “Thanks,” she said breathily, pressing her cool skin against the rougher material of my plaid shirt. “Everything okay . . . with your phone call?” She didn’t answer. “If you want to talk, I won’t judge you,” I said quietly. “Hell, I’m the last person who should judge

anyone.” “Why do you talk about yourself like that, Zef? You’re so sweet and kind.” I gave a hollow laugh. “I’m really not.” “You are to me.” I sighed. “I’m trying not to be, but . . .” “But?” “I like you,” I admitted. “Like me, or like me like me?” I laughed softly. “Um, both?” She turned her head, her lips touching my cheek. “Good, because I like like you, too.” Her hand drifted to my chest and I grasped it quickly. “And the reason I haven’t made a move on you is because you’re a nice girl.” Her laugh was bitter as she pulled away from me. “A nice girl? A nice knocked up girl?” “I don’t care about that.” “You don’t?” I could hear the disbelief in her voice. “I care that it hurts you, that you’re confused about what you want . . .” “I’m not!” “That you’ve run away rather than face

whatever happened. But you know I don’t think any less of you for that. We’re all travelers here, all moving on, and you’re not the only one who’s running away from something.” “Are you?” “Yes and no,” I answered truthfully, then took a deep breath, plunging into the cold waters of the past. “I’m 32 years old, and I’m an ex-con. I did two years in prison for drug dealing. Roy, the guy up in Washington, he was my dealer. And . . . I had a problem with alcohol and drugs. I guess I still do. I was an addict, but I don’t use anymore.” I felt her body stiffen against me, but she didn’t move away. “Is that why you wouldn’t take the painkillers the doctor gave you when you sprained your knee?” I sighed. “Yeah, I’d probably have been okay, I just didn’t want to risk it. I’m careful. I’ll have a drink sometimes, but never too much, and never two days running. I . . . it’s just for the best.” She gave a small nod, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I got a reduced sentence because I testified against Roy’s bosses, some real bad people. I couldn’t go home to Savannah when I was released because that could have put my brother in danger, so I just disappeared. I drifted for a while, got day-

work where I could. I’m a pretty fair mechanic, so that helped. But not many people want an ex-con working for them, so it was hard. People are always waiting for you to fail. When I fell into a job at the carnival working as a roustabout, no one cared who I was or where I came from.” I smiled to myself. “They weren’t as thorough on criminal background checks as Zach. Kes found me and offered me a job with the Daredevils, like I said. I haven’t looked back. In fact, I’ve made an art out of not looking back.” I paused. “And for all those reasons, a nice girl like you should stay far away from me.” It was a relief to tell her everything, but now I had to wait for the cards to fall, for the rejection that was certain to follow. But Sara surprised me again. “I know.” “What? What do you know?” “Most of what you just told me,” she said, her voice a whisper above the waves. “Not all of it, but some. Aimee told me. She could see how I felt about you and she thought I should know. And it’s not what you think, Zef—she really cares about you. She was warning me not to hurt you.” I blinked, confused by the mind-fuck that had just landed me on my ass. What else had Aimee said while she’d been running her mouth? “How the hell did she come to that conclusion?”

“She told me about Mirelle.” Oh. We sat in silence, the ebb and flow of the ocean reminding me that nothing lasts forever. “She must have really hurt you . . .” “Not as much as Aimee thinks. Mirelle and me . . . we were friends of friends, friends who got together once in a while. That’s all.” “Really? You’re not upset that she’s pregnant?” Sara wasn’t afraid to ask the hard questions. “I didn’t like that she was seeing someone else when I thought we were together. I have to be able to trust people . . .” I looked at her sideways, but she was frowning at a small pile of sand trickling through her fingers. “I guess I trusted her more than she deserved.” I shrugged. “She’s Aimee’s friend so I’ll run into her from time to time, but she’s not the woman I’ve been thinking about lately.” Sara was still staring at the sand, still frowning. “So . . . you’re mad at her for being pregnant with another man’s child, but you’re not mad at me?” I didn’t understand her. Why would I be mad at her? I wasn’t fucking her at the time and we weren’t in a relationship. I let my lungs empty, pushing out the air before breathing in deeply, testing the truth of my thoughts. “I’m pissed at her because she lied to me—but we were never exclusive, not really. When I first

saw you, I wanted to protect you and I didn’t want to believe that I was attracted to you because you’re just a kid . . .” “I’m not!” “Sara, you were in kindergarten when I was in college. That bothers me.” “Then get over it! I have.” I choked on a laugh. “I don’t care that you’re older than me, and it’s not even that much. You make it sound like you’re ancient, it’s so dumb! Why do you care what anyone thinks?” Her words made me pause. Why did it bother me so much? It wasn’t her age exactly, it was the fear that I was taking advantage of her. I’d found her homeless and helpless as well as pregnant. Throw in the age difference and she definitely wasn’t thinking straight. So I turned the question around. “Suppose we’d met somewhere else. Suppose you’re sitting in your hometown coffee shop with your high school friends talking about graduation and college, and I drive up in Zach’s old truck. I’ve got grease under my fingernails and oil stains on my clothes. Say you hear that I’m with the carnival, and a decade-and-a-half older. Maybe you hear rumors that I’m an ex-con. Would you still be interested? Or would you worry what your friends would think, what your family would think? Would

you know that it was a really bad idea?” She shook her head and gave me a small smile. “I’d still think you were hot.” “That doesn’t answer the question.” “I don’t know, Zef. Yes, no, maybe. But we’re not in my hometown and I don’t care what my friends or parents think. I’m living my own life for once and we’re traveling with the carnival together. We’re alone on a beach and I still think you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever met.” My self-restraint shattered. My flesh demanded, my blood roared, and my body responded. I pulled her across my hips and she gasped, her knees digging into my ribs, her fumbling fingers anchoring themselves on my shoulders, the short nails digging in, as our mouths met in heat and need, panting like dogs. My hands cupped her cheeks, crushing my lips beneath hers, growling as she bit my bruised mouth. I knew she tasted my blood but she didn’t stop and I urged her on, letting her cool hands explore my body as she pushed beneath my shirt, scraping her fingers over my chest and stomach, tugging at the hair below my bellybutton, thrusting her hand under the waistband of my jeans. I was rigid, throbbing from her touch, arching my back so I pushed into her hand. She bit my chest then sat upright, tugging off her tank top and

unhooking her bra. I filled my hands with her breasts and she shivered. “They’re really sensitive now, because . . . you know,” she whispered, pleasure and pain in her voice. I leaned up on my elbows, replacing my hands with my tongue, gently biting and sucking her breasts as she rode me through my jeans. Her skin glowed, pale in the moonlight, and her hair streamed down her back, flowing like quicksilver. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed as she moved faster and faster. I moved my hands to her hips, anchoring her core against mine and thrusting upward, starved for her touch, hungry for these feelings. Unzipping her denim shorts, I stroked her smooth belly, then pushed one, work-roughed finger inside her, soaking into the hot, sweet center, coating my hand. She shuddered and screamed at the moon like a wild animal. She was free and magnificent and utterly unexpected. Collapsing on my sweat-covered chest, she panted, her breath hot and moist against my neck. I held my breath, willing myself not to come in my jeans like a teenager. The irony would have made me laugh if it wasn’t so fucking painful. She gasped a quivering breath and lay quietly,

her body softening and relaxing against me. “Zef, I’m cold.” My eyes opened reluctantly as I tightened my arms around her. The stars were spiraling slowly, and I judged that we’d been asleep maybe an hour. I rubbed her back to warm her up. I couldn’t see her bra in the dark, but I found her t-shirt and pulled it over her head. “Come on, time to go back.” I wished I could hold her properly but it was impossible given the soft sand and my crutches. Her teeth chattered as we slowly made our way up the beach, and she hugged herself trying to keep warm. The bonfire was dying down, just a few glowing embers ringed by large pebbles remained, blackened by fire and smoke. Sara opened the RV’s door and I scrambled up the steps. That was when she saw me in the light for the first time. “Oh my God! What happened? Did someone hit you?” “Oh, yeah. Kes. I said some things to Aimee that I shouldn’t. I deserved it.” “About me?” I didn’t reply. She shook her head, her eyes sad, then grabbed a towel and soaked it in cold water, wiping it gently over my face.

It felt good, being looked after, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment. “Will you stay with me tonight?” I opened my eyes at her question. “Do you want me to?” She gave a sly smile. “Well, it is your room . . .” I held her hand and kissed it, then reluctantly released her as I hopped along the narrow corridor. I winced as I removed the leg brace, then undressed slowly, watching her eyes for any sign that she’d changed her mind. She blinked as I stepped out of my jeans, her eyes darting down to my erection, but she didn’t say anything. Then she stripped off her own clothes, and I wondered if I’d get any sleep tonight with her naked in her/my bed. She lay with her head on my shoulder. “I can hear your heart beating. It sounds so safe.” “I’ll take care of you, Sara. I promise.” She was silent for a moment, and when she did speak, I could hear the hesitancy in her voice. “What was it like? In prison?” A tremor ran through my body that was part fear, part anger, part reaction to her. I’d hoped never to hear the word ‘prison’ again. “I don’t like to talk about that,” I said gruffly.

She reacted immediately, stiffening in my arms. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” I sighed, running my hand along her waist, enjoying the silky warmth. “No, I’m being an asshole. Again. It’s just . . . it was . . . bad . . . and I don’t want you to hear about the shit that went on there. I don’t want you to have it inside your head. Anyway, I’m not that person anymore.” “Okay,” she said in a small voice, which made me feel worse. I grimaced in the dark and took a deep breath. “What do you want to know?” I could hear the rustle of the sheets as she pulled the quilt over one shoulder. “You said you’re not that person anymore . . .” “I’m not.” “What’s changed?” Her question was so innocent, I almost laughed. Not that prison was anything to laugh at. Everything changed—my whole world. “It hardens you, and not always in a good way. You have to be as tough and ruthless as the toughest most ruthless bastard in there, or you’re just fresh meat. You have to send a strong signal that you can’t be fucked with.” The words felt like acid in my mouth and I wished I had a drink. “I did things that I’m not proud of, fucked up a

lot of people, just to survive. You can’t trust anyone: not the guy you share a cell with, not the guards, not the warden, no one. And that gets pretty lonely. You build walls so high, it feels like you’ll never tear them down, and you don’t want to either, because walls protect you.” “Do . . . do you feel like that . . . with me?” Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. “No, Sara. You took a wrecking ball through those walls. I really should thank you for that.” She gave a quiet laugh. “You mean that?” “Yeah, I do. I trust my brother; I trust Ollo, Kes, Zach, Luke and Tucker; I trust Aimee, Tera and my brother’s girlfriend; and now I trust you. It’s been a work in progress, and it’s taken more than four years, but I guess you could say I trust a lot more people than I ever thought I would.” I could tell that she had more questions. “What else do you want to know?” “It’s a dumb question.” “There are no dumb questions—didn’t you learn that at school?” “Was there anything good about prison?” “That’s a dumb question.” “Hey!” and she gave me a little push as I laughed. “Yeah, there was one thing: it made me get straight. No alcohol, weed, coke or crack. Well,

hell, you can get all of that shit in prison if you’ve got the right contacts, but I kept to myself and I didn’t want to be in anyone’s debt. So I got straight by default. Best thing that could have happened to me in there.” I felt her gentle kiss on my cheek. “I feel like I know you a little better now,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.” We fell asleep wrapped around each other. I woke once in the night with the realization that she never had told me who’d called her.

I was expecting the morning to be awkward, but it wasn’t. It felt good. It felt right, and stupidly, I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to see her every day, her belly growing round and full beside me. It was probably just as well that it wasn’t my child inside her—my gene pool was so seriously fucked up that extinction was definitely the best option. I hoped the kid turned out like her and not the dickwad father who obviously didn’t know when he had a good thing. Fathers. Fatherhood. I’d been thinking about that a lot lately: what made a good father, how to be a good father. I thought about the qualities that a man should have: patience—definitely, kindness, tolerance, discipline, a hard worker, someone who could support his family and set a good example, maybe even someone who didn’t care if his kid wasn’t like him—I thought that was important, as well. He should be loyal and a protector. And he should love his kids and let them know that they were loved—because how many people didn’t show love, even when they felt it? You could say I

was in that category. Life, experience, both had taught me to lock emotions away. But I was trying . . . I was trying for Sara because I could tell that she needed to know that I cared. I’d tried to hide what I’d been feeling—obviously I’d done a lousy job of it. But I’d also left her confused about what I did think, and the gray matter that made up my brain had finally caught up to the fact that she needed something . . . someone that she could depend on. My dad had been a good man, a good father, and I might have been a good man, too, if he’d lived. My brother, he was one of the best, and I knew he’d make a fantastic father one day. When Kes told us that he and Aimee had made a baby, I was surprised because it turned out that I really liked the idea of being an uncle—yeah, I reckon I could nail down that role. Kes was like a brother to me. Family. Which was a reminder that I’d have to go eat humble pie, apologize to Aimee and hope that Kes had gotten over wanting to kick my ass to Boise and back. He’d definitely been unlucky himself on the father front, although Tera seemed to have mixed feelings about their shared parentage. At least Kes’s father had tried to do the right thing eventually, even if it was 26 years too late. As for Tucker, like me and Dan, his father had also died young, and he’d been brought up—if you

could use that term—by a drunk for a mother and a stepfather who’d whaled on him every day until he was big enough to fight back. I think that was the reason he tried so hard to be happy—he’d already had enough misery to last a lifetime. I told Sara that I’d take care of her and I intended to keep that promise, even when she didn’t need me anymore. I couldn’t help believing that one day she’d stop running; one day she’d go back to her family. Until that day, I’d do everything I could for her. And if she needed a father for her kid, I’d be first in line. The thought wasn’t uncomfortable—it was what a real man would do. I’d paid penance for my past mistakes—now I had a chance to make amends, to help someone who needed it. Although it occurred to me much later that perhaps I should have shared my decision with her. Maybe even had a discussion. But I was only thinking about what she needed and what I had to do for her, not whether she’d want what I had to offer. I guess you could say I was dumb like that. As I lay unmoving, thin fingers of sunlight had crept through a gap in the curtains, turning Sara’s pale blonde hair to gold. At rest, she looked so young, so very young. Ripples of self-loathing rose up my throat. Too young.

I pushed them away, but my body must have tensed because her eyelids fluttered and she yawned widely. “Oh my God, that was the best night’s sleep in forever,” she said, a sleepy smile on her face as she stroked my chest, her eyes still closed. “You’re all warm and cuddly. Not cuddly because your muscles are too hard, just nice, you know? Sort of cuddly though, maybe even a bit furry. I really like your beard—it’s softer than I thought it would be. I thought it would be prickly but it’s not. It’s soft, well, not as soft as Bo’s but really nice. Did I say nice again?” I couldn’t help smiling. “Are you always this chatty first thing in the morning?” “I guess so, yeah. Does it bother you?” It should have, but it didn’t. “Nope, chat away.” “Your tattoos are amazing, really beautifully done. Some tattoos are just gross, or blurry and ugly, like someone just got shot with a splatter gun and they didn’t even think about how they’d all look together. Some are really bad and some are just nasty, but yours are kind of beautiful. I didn’t think colored tattoos would look that good, but they really do. You’ll have to tell me what they all mean. Oh, and this one on your ribs—is that Latin? What does it say?”

There were too many comments and questions in that one breath for me to answer, so I just focused on the last one. “Yeah, it’s Latin, by the writer Juvenal. He lived around 100AD.” “I’ve never heard of him. What does it say?” “Panem et circenses. Bread and circuses,” I translated. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t get it.” “He was saying that people only care about eating and being entertained. He was being sarcastic, but I think he probably got it right.” “Oh right, I get it now. We all need to eat, but we want to have fun, too, because the world can be shitty and serious, and sometimes you just need to think about something else.” She definitely got it. She was also the first girl who’d asked me who didn’t think it was weird. She giggled, then her hand drifted lower, brushing against my hard dick. “Oh!” She opened her eyes and looked up at me uncertainly. “Don’t worry about it,” I said casually. “It’s been like that for the last three weeks. It will go away if I ignore it.” “Doesn’t it hurt?” “No,” I lied.

“Because my boyf—someone told me once that if a guy gets like that and doesn’t get laid, it’s really bad for him.” Her naivety was another reminder of her age, and my good mood started to slide. “Whoever told you that is full of shit,” I said tiredly. “I’ll survive.” Just like I have since I met you. “Maybe you don’t have to,” she whispered, her fingers touching me once more, less tentatively. “Maybe I could, um, relieve the pressure?” If she touches me like that again, I’ll lose the power of speech. “I’m fi—” Her grip was firmer this time and my words cut off as I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes and raising my arms above my head, surrendering, giving her as much access as she wanted. I nearly leapt off the bed when I felt her full pink mouth wrap around the crown and her soft tongue lick me from root to tip. She glanced up, her eyes dancing with mischief as my mouth dropped open helplessly. I hissed when her teeth grazed my cock and her hot little mouth turned my dick from angry red to a painful pulsing purple. Nearly three months’ abstinence and three weeks of dreaming about this woman left me with no control whatsoever.

I started thrusting into her mouth. She coughed a little but didn’t stop. “I can’t . . . I’m gonna . . .” She whipped her head backwards so fast, I thought she’d bitten my dick off, but when her hand wrapped around my shaft to finish me off, I thanked God, Jehovah and all the angels in heaven and on earth. She gave a cute little laugh as I squinted one eye open, my breathing still rapid. Then she ran her finger through the cum on my stomach and sucked it into her mouth. “That’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll swallow next time.” Then she blew me a kiss, climbed off the bed and danced out of the room wearing a towel. I lay there, wondering if I was dead or alive, until Tucker banged on the door and reminded me that we had maintenance work to do and to get my sorry ass out of bed before Aimee fed my breakfast to the birds. I knew that last bit was a lie—Bo would eat up any food before the birds had a chance at it. Little dude seemed to eat more than a grown man. Sara was in the shower for ages and I knew that I’d have to remind her that was a big no-no when all of us were living in the RV, and because it was a pain having to refill the water tank too often. But when she walked into the room, pink from

the heat and smelling like spring flowers, the words dried on my tongue. I already had a semi so I yanked my jeans from a pile of clothes on the floor and bare-assed it to the bathroom at the double. After I’d showered, I waited for Sara to dress and held her hand as we walked outside where everyone was sitting under the Coffeeberry tree. She tried to tug free but I wouldn’t let her go. Aimee was sitting on Kes’s lap, one hand idly running her fingers through his hair. Zach and Luke were poring over some paperwork, Tucker was shoveling up pancakes, and Ollo was feeding blueberries to Bo. They all looked up when they heard us and I saw the second that Aimee noticed our linked hands. A strange combination of emotions swept across her face, ending in a smile. I cleared my throat and met her gaze. “Aimee, I owe you an apology. I was a dick last night and I’m sorry.” She looked surprised as hell and I tried to remember if I’d ever apologized to her before. Maybe once. “Wow, um, thank you, Zef. I’m sorry, too. I was out of line. I’d blame it on hormones but we all know I’m always like that. So . . . I’m sorry, too.” Tucker started laughing. “Damn, the world is ending and no one told me: two miracles in one day. Oh Lord, at least give us

another thirty-six hours so I can get to my woman and show her some lovin’.” Aimee threw a spoon at him and I cuffed him around the head as I walked past. Then Bo scampered up onto the table, stole two blueberries from Tucker’s plate and tried to feed them to him. “Thanks, bro,” Tucker laughed, blueberry juice dribbling down his chin. We sat in our folding chairs, ate breakfast under a perfect blue sky, sheltered from the California heat by the shade of the towering tree. And we were surrounded by friends who were family. It was pretty damn perfect.

Sara It was awful. I was surrounded by these amazing, caring people, holding hands with Zef who looked at me as if I hung the moon and the stars and outshone the sun. I’d seen little chinks of light from the dark, somber man that I’d met, but once I’d broken through his impressive walls, he blazed with his own light, his own heat, and the incredible warmth of his kindness. And in front of his closest friends, he wanted to

hold my hand. I felt sick and ashamed.

Zef I spent the morning working with the guys on some maintenance of the bikes and equipment, watching out of the corner of my eye as Aimee and Sara chatted together doing chores, and then Aimee announced that they were going into town to pick up some groceries. I volunteered to go with them, but Aimee waved a hand at me. “Nope, we’re having girl time. We’ll see you later.” Sara wouldn’t meet my eyes and I didn’t like that. Maybe she didn’t like that I’d held her hand in front of everyone, which was confusing. I thought girls liked that romantic shit, and I have to say, I’d enjoyed doing it. They climbed into Zach’s truck, and I watched it bouncing down the road as Aimee wrestled with the ancient stick shift. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy as my eyes met Kes’s worried gaze. “For fuck’s sake chill!” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. “It’s Arcata, not downtown LA. They’ll be fine and if they need us, they both have cell

phones. Y’all will drive them crazy if you keep hovering.” He was probably right, but I’d never feed his ego by admitting that. Kes frowned and shook his head. “I know, but it feels different now. That’s my kid she’s carrying.” I understood how he felt. Sort of. I breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived back carrying several sacks of groceries but even more bags full of clothes. I wondered if Sara had bought anything cute, and then I wanted to pound my head against a wall for thinking dumb shit like that. Besides, she’d probably bought a ton of maternity clothes—all those dresses that looked like tents. Whatever, she’d still be hot. In the cooler air of the evening, we packed our tools away and rolled the bikes back onto the rig. The water tanks had been refilled from Kes and Aimee’s cabin, and we were ready to roll in the morning. Zach and Luke had made a list of everything that needed to be finished off in their cabin and had decided to invite us all to a house-warming on New Year’s Eve. We’d all said yes, even Sara, but I wondered if she’d still be with us by then. I could only hope. And then I asked myself how my mind had been spun so quickly by this woman. Nope, I had no clue

how or when it had happened—just that it had. My knee was feeling stiff from all of the sitting around, but at least not so painful anymore. Another few days and I’d take off the brace during the day as well as at night. I decided to look over the plot I’d chosen to build my own cabin, and I wanted Sara to come with me. I found her under the Coffeeberry tree with Bo sitting on her lap. “Walk with me?” She looked up and raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Are you sure you should be doing so much walking?” My beard hid a small smile. “Yup.” She cocked her head on one side. “You know, words are on sale this week. You could probably afford a whole sentence now and then.” At least she was talking to me again. I didn’t reply and just stood there with one crutch under my arm and held out my other hand to her. She stared back, not moving, and I lowered my hand. “There’s something that I’d like to show you. Please?” She grinned and stood up, swinging Bo onto her back as if she’d been doing it her whole life.

“See? It’s working already! And you get a dime off for making it a question and not an order.” Who knew I was such a sucker for a girl with a sassy mouth? She followed me as I limped further away from the cabin. I could hear her behind me, talking quietly to Bo, but I didn’t turn around. I just kept on walking. Finally, I stopped on a low rise that had amazing views of the ocean, but was sheltered on one side by a clump of small desert fig trees. I lowered myself to the ground and Sara sat next to me, a few inches from my shoulder as I tossed the crutches to one side. “Wow! The view is incredible. Kes and Aimee are so lucky.” “You really like it?” “Who wouldn’t?” I didn’t answer that, wondering if I was doing the right thing. “I’d never even seen the Pacific before until last night.” We sat in silence, staring out at the slate-blue breakers crashing onto the coarse yellow sand. “This is where I’m going to build my cabin— our cabin, if you want it.” I said the words without looking at her, but watched her out of the corner of my eye as she turned to stare at me, her gaze apprehensive.

“What do you mean?” “Kes and Aimee bought this land for all of us, originally for winter quarters. This is my plot.” “I know that . . .” “I’d planned to come here as soon as we finish after Thanksgiving to help Luke and Zach finish their cabin, but to start on my place as well. I can get the foundation dug and concrete poured by January, maybe even get a couple of walls up if Tucker gets off his ass and comes to help. It should be finished by the Spring . . .” “Zef, that’s great. I’m really happy for you. But why are you telling me all this?” I sighed. “It won’t be ready by the time the baby comes, but he could celebrate his first birthday here. What do you think?” Sara sat with her mouth open. It took several attempts before she could speak. “Zef, I don’t know . . . I don’t think so . . .” I looked down, the weight of disappointment a heavy load. Maybe I was pushing her too fast. “It’s . . . it’s a lot to take in,” she whispered nervously. I could feel her closing down, backing away. “Sara, you’ll need somewhere for you and the baby. I don’t have anywhere yet, but I will. I want to help you.” My words were gentle but it was obviously still

too much. “I don’t even know where I’ll be in six months.” Her eyes skittered across the dunes, throwing nervous glances at me. Bo bared his teeth, chattering loudly as he picked up on her tension. Then he scampered away, and Sara pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head, staring away from me, her shoulders hunched. The woman I’d had in my bed was gone, and instead it was the scared kid again, trying to hide. But she couldn’t hide, no matter how unwilling she was to take on the responsibilities of a motherto-be. She had no clue how hard it could be out there. “You need somewhere,” I pointed out. Her eyes narrowed, snapping with irritation as she turned to me at last. “I’m not a charity case. I can figure this out by myself. I don’t need you or anyone else to ride in and save me!” My mouth dropped open in surprise and then anger overtook me. “Yeah? Because you’re doing such a bang-up job so far.” Her shitty attitude was pissing me the hell off. “Fuck you, Zef! You’re not the boss of me.” “Well, someone needs to be! You’re a mess!” The tears came quickly and I was furious with

myself, angry at her, raging at everything and nothing. It wasn’t like I’d been so together when I was eighteen. But I was supposed to be the mature one in this . . . whatever it was. “Fuck it! I’m sorry, okay? It’ll be whatever you want, Sara. This is your home for as long as you need it—the cabin, the RV. I’m trying to help but I know I’m fucking up.” I wanted to hold her but she turned away from me, and when I touched her shoulder, she cringed. Then her phone rang and her whole body froze, like a deer startled in the forest, suddenly realizing that branch she’s looking at is really the barrel of a .30 caliber rifle. With shaking hands, she pulled it from her pocket, her lips white and trembling. “Sara?” Nothing. She stared at it as it continued to ring, loud and ugly as the setting sun raced toward the ocean. “Are you going to get that?” She licked her lips, her eyes darting to mine then away again. I grabbed the phone from her and she gave a small scream. The caller’s ID simply said, Him. Despite Sara’s flailing hands clawing at me, I pressed ‘answer’. “So you’re finally answering your damn

phone! Where the hell are you?” It was a man’s voice, deep, with a slight western twang. Definitely not a kid’s voice. “Sara’s busy. I’ll take a message for her.” There was a long pause followed by a string of swearing so loud that I held the phone from my ear. Sara snatched it back, her face red with anger, then she hissed into the microphone. “It’s me.” “Who the hell was that? Who answered your phone?” I could hear his furious voice as she strode away from me. “No one. He’s no one.” And hearing her say the words, that’s exactly how I felt.

I didn’t see her again that evening, but I could hear her. She was pacing the tiny space of her/my bedroom, with muttered words of frustration and then tuneless singing that told me she was listening to music, loud. I knew that she was playing her Pissed playlist because she’d showed it to me once. God, was that only yesterday? I’d smiled at the time. I wasn’t smiling now. It frustrated the fuck out of me that this guy, this Him, had power over her, even though she’d traveled hundreds of miles to get rid of him, even though she’d been in my bed, taking what she wanted. The next day, she caught a ride with Zach and Luke, ignoring my existence. Well, hell, she’d said it: I was no one. How did you protect someone who didn’t want you around? I’d do what I could to smooth her path, but when she went back to him, my job was over. I watched in the side-view mirror as dust spiraled from the rig’s wheels, blooming into a yellow cloud behind us, blotting out the ocean.

Tucker glanced at me but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned on the radio, listening to some indie channel. After an hour, he turned down the volume, his eyes concentrating on the road south. “You guys seemed good.” I looked out of the window. “She’s a kid. She doesn’t know what she wants.” “You showed her your plot, where you’re building the cabin?” “Yep.” Tucker sucked his teeth. “Guess she didn’t like the view.” I grunted an aggrieved laugh. “Guess not.” “You two have been dancing around each other for weeks. I thought you’d finally figured it out.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to rub out the confused thoughts that tangled in my brain. “So what happened?” Would talking it through with Tucker help? Because I definitely wasn’t getting anywhere by myself. “She got a call while I was showing her where I’m going to build and she just froze. She stared at her cell like it might bite her. So I answered it for her.” Tucker groaned. “You didn’t!”

“Well, yeah! Some asshole starting swearing up a storm wanting to know where she was. Then she grabbed the phone back. She hasn’t spoken to me since.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell Tucker that she’d called me nothing. “Zef, you’re a good guy, but you’re a freakin’ idiot sometimes . . . make that all the time around this girl.” “What was I supposed to do?” I asked indignantly. “You’re not supposed to take her phone! You’re not supposed to answer it for her! What were you fixin’ to do? Confiscate it? Send her to her room? She may be young, but she’s a grown woman.” “I know that!” I yelled, but even as I said the words I wasn’t sure they were true. “Tucker, you didn’t see her face—she was scared. Really scared. And I can’t protect her if I don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I don’t even know if she wants or needs that. If I ask her about it, she clams up. I’ve told her everything about me. If we were going to be . . . she had the right to know.” Tucker raised his eyebrows. “You told her about your time in stir? Why you were there?” “Yes!” “Wow, okay. But you know, brother, you’ve

done the right thing, but you can’t force trust from her. How would you feel if she’d taken your phone and started snooping through it?” “I wasn’t snooping! I did it right there in front of her!” “That don’t make it okay.” I was silent, afraid to admit that he was right. Again. Dammit. “I just want to help her.” He sighed. “Yeah, I get that. But someone’s gotta want to be helped or none of it makes any difference.” The man spoke the truth. We drove without talking until we took a break at a truck stop a few miles south of Oakland. I saw Sara coming out of the ladies’ room by herself, so I took a chance. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.” “Yeah, well you didn’t,” she spit out. “You made it ten times worse!” A vein throbbed in my temple. Worse than being a pregnant homeless teenage runaway? But I kept my mouth shut and gave her a curt nod. “My mistake. It won’t happen again.” My words were quiet but she definitely heard them. I forced myself to walk away. I’d gone twenty steps when she came running after me, slightly out of breath. “Zef, I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch.”

She rested her small hand on my arm. I frowned and looked away. “I don’t know what you need from me, Sara. Maybe nothin’, maybe somethin’, but it’ll go a helluva lot smoother if you just tell me.” Her hand dropped and I thought she was going to yell at me again, but she didn’t. “I can’t.” Her voice cracked, but her mouth was a stubborn line. I bit my tongue, holding back the demands that she tell me what was wrong. “When you can, I’ll be around.” I met her eyes so that she knew I’d keep my word. And then even though I wanted to take her in my arms and promise that everything would be okay, I walked away.

We rolled into Pomona shortly after midnight, probably interrupting the guard at the performers’ entrance from whatever movie he was watching. The vast, gated compound had a fenced perimeter and 24/7 security. I’d guess that 200 or so carnies lived here from Easter through Thanksgiving, then went back to their homes for the off-season.

Tucker’s eyes were red with tiredness and I felt bad for not being able to take my turn at the wheel, but we’d all pulled long trips before now so I wasn’t going to bleed for the guy. We trundled over the concrete back lot, making our way toward a small stand of trees and grass that was reserved for us near the barbecue pit. Zach parked their RV by the nose of our rig and Kes parked at the back end, making three sides of a rectangle and creating a little courtyard that would give us some privacy. Ollo’s RV was off to one side which was how he preferred it. “Gotta take a leak,” Tucker yawned, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his spine. But then his eyes brightened, all tiredness gone, and he jumped out of the truck’s cab, a huge smile on his face. Next second, a cute blonde was wrapped around him and they were lost to the rest of us as we climbed tiredly from the vehicles. Kes walked over and slapped the back of Tucker’s head. “That’s my sister, asshole!” And he hugged Tera, pushing Tucker out of the way. Then it was Aimee’s turn, and I heard the two women squealing at each other, and the word “congratulations!” being bounced around. “I’m going to be the coolest aunt ever!” Tera laughed, as Tucker wrapped his arms around her

waist again. I hopped over and gave Tera a quick hug. “Oh, Zef! Look at you, all banged up! Where’s this girl I’ve been hearing about?” She whispered. “Where’s Sara?” “Uh, riding with Zach and Luke, I think.” She threw me a confused look before Tucker walked her towards an expensive-looking Mercedes and they drove off into the night. A twist of jealousy knotted my gut as I watched their tail lights disappear. We stumbled around, drunk on tiredness, hooking up the RVs to water and power, then collapsed into our respective beds. I didn’t think I’d sleep, not with Sara just a few feet away in the next room, but I did, tiredness taking its toll. I woke once in the night and I heard her voice. She sounded like she was arguing with someone, but was trying to keep her voice down. I strained to pick up a few words, but all I could hear was “no” said emphatically several times. I lay awake listening for a while longer, wondering if she was okay or if she’d need me, but Sara’s room stayed silent. When Bo slipped through my window just before dawn, I was grateful for the company. He crawled under the covers, curled up by my waist and went to sleep.

I stroked his soft fur, wishing my life was as uncomplicated as his. It used to be. When I woke up for real, I felt more optimistic. All around me, the massive Fairplex fairground was stirring into life. I could hear the voices of other carnie families who were parked nearby, and also knew that soon the five thousand plus employees would be showing up for work, ready to entertain, amuse and feed the people who’d be pouring from one of the thirty thousand designated car parking spaces. The big status rides like G-force and Evaluation would have their daily check; college kids hired to be Captain Jack Sparrow, Belle and the Beast or characters from Avatar would be arriving to change into their costumes; and the Daredevils would be supervising the installation of our ramps, as well as the supersize ones that were stored here for our biggest shows. I stumped into the shower, staring critically at my gimpy leg and testing how much weight it would hold. Hmm, not too bad. I had my first physical therapy appointment this afternoon, and I was determined to ace all my exams and be performing again by the end of the month, screw what the Voice of Doom had said back in Washington. Just as I was hobbling back to my room, Sara was coming out of hers with a towel wrapped

tightly around her. She gave me a quick smile—a definite improvement on being ignored. Aimee was bustling around in the kitchen, somehow managing four pans and a stack of plates warming in the oven. She was wearing a light summer dress, and for the first time I noticed that she had a small baby bump. “Hey, Zef!” she said brightly, happiness radiating from her. “Lookin’ good, mamacita,” I said, smiling as she blushed. Kes came up behind her, kissing her neck as his hands stroked her newly protruding belly. It was an intimate, private moment. I turned away and switched on the TV to catch the news. I glanced up when Sara walked in, but her gaze was fixed on Kes and Aimee, and even from this distance I could tell that her eyes were filling with tears. My chest ached for her. Kes and Aimee were in their own bubble, so they didn’t even notice the strained atmosphere or Sara’s silence. I was relieved when Zach and Luke, followed by Ollo and Bo came to rustle up some pancakes. “Nice job on the new web content, Sara,” said Zach, looking at something on his phone. “The Fairplex racetrack manager said that ticket sales are up four percent from last year, and the Fourth is a

sell-out.” She gave him a wide, happy smile, and my dark heart growled, wishing that I could put that look on her face. Ollo nodded approvingly. “Thanks, Zach,” said Sara. “I loved doing it.” “Great! Well, I spoke to Tera this morning . . .” “I bet Tucker loved that,” I muttered, earning an amused smile from Luke. “ . . . and she said that KTM is definitely interested in sponsoring us, and she wants some more pictures from you: not just action shots, but set-up, maintenance, the guys goofing off—just more of what you’ve already been doing, but specific to this location.” “Oh, I’d love to! Thank you! That’s awesome! Thank you so much, Zach!” Then she kissed him on the cheek and started piling her plate with pancakes, sausages and syrup. Part of me wanted to hug the guy for making Sara so happy; the other part wanted to punch his lights out because she’d kissed him and not me. I wasn’t used to being jealous—I hadn’t known how much it burned.

Fourth of July had been a crazy day. Usually, I’d be

working my ass off, but with my gimp leg, all I could do was a little bike maintenance, and watch the guys put on a stunning show, finished off with a massive firework display. I was in a bad mood because I wasn’t being even slightly useful. I even tried to help Aimee and Sara with food prep for the after-party, but in the end Aimee kicked me out of the kitchen, saying I was getting underfoot. Which I was. I was glad when it was all over and I could sit back with a beer and enjoy listening to all the carnie talk around the fire-pit. “I don’t really get it, Ollo,” said Sara. “What’s the difference between a circus and a carnival?” He chewed on a wad of tobacco thoughtfully. “It’s changing now, but back after the Second World War there were traveling carnivals and there were circuses. It was a gray time, a tired time, and everyone was sick of it. Circuses were mostly owned by one family, and carnivals were groups of shows coming together and traveling together a while. Carnies were the rebels of the road. But it was more than that. We offered color and life. Respectable folk,” and he raised his eyebrows, “went to the circus, but in carnivals anything goes. We had gambling and freak shows like the Dogfaced Woman—a good friend of mine—the Human Lightbulb, real fakirs—those guys who stuck pins through their faces. The Great Impossible Possible

used to sew buttons to his eyelids . . .” Sara looked like she was going to throw up. “And there were other torture acts, bed of nails, you know? But you’d also get carousels for the kiddies and hootchy-kootchy shows for their daddies. The Fat Lady was always a big draw, Jolly Daisy was her name—had five husbands and weighed seven hundred pounds.” Sara wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting! Putting people on stage just because they’re . . . different.” Ollo shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. The freaks earned a good living, better than the canvasmen or the roustabouts, that’s for sure. Get a good freak and they could keep the carnival going. Here, they had a life, a purpose, and they had their friends. Some had families, too. But what would they have been if they’d been forced to live with ‘normal’ people?” And he drew air quotes with his stubby fingers. “People like them . . . like me . . . were hidden away, something shameful. But in the carnival, they were important.” “But . . .” Ollo fixed Sara with a serious stare. “It’s different now. People like to think they’re more acceptin’, and maybe they are, but I can tell you when I walk down the street with townies, the nicest thing that happens is people stare. Sometimes

they’re not nice; sometimes they’re mean. Being ugly is a sort of prison. So you tell me which is better: a life of being hidden away by families too ashamed to let their friends see you, or a life with the carnival where you’re accepted for all your freakishness? A place that gives you a chance, the courage to turn a misfortune of birth into something positive, and you can thumb your nose, be unashamed, and throw your strangeness in the face of the world?” Sara was silent and Ollo’s fierce gaze softened. “But like I said, times have changed and things are different now.” Were we all misfits here? Or maybe misfits who fit? Either way, this was family. This was home.

“Man! You cheat like your feet stink!” Tucker scowled at Sara who flipped him the bird. “You’re just a terrible poker player, Tucker, and my feet do not stink!” Tucker stared down at the single quarter left in front of him, at the large pile next to Sara, and then his eyes narrowed as he took in a grinning Ollo. I was pretty sure that the deck had been stacked in Sara’s favor, but it was hard to catch Ollo at it—he was a master of sleight of hand. There’d been a sorry lack of Aces in the last few hands, and now suddenly Sara had all four of them laid out on the table. She giggled, one hand over her mouth and the other resting on her belly. I glanced at Kes, and his knowing look told me that he’d seen exactly what Ollo was up to. “Face it, mothertucker, your brain doesn’t move as fast as your mouth.” “Never mind,” said Aimee, patting his arm as she smiled at Tucker’s indignant face. “You know what they say, ‘unlucky at cards but lucky in love’.”

Tera laughed and leaned her head against his cheek. “See? Always an upside.” Tucker sighed and tossed his worthless cards on the table. “I’m going to need more sugar than that, sweet girl of mine. Let’s go home—leave the scamming to these losers.” They stood up together, Tera hugging everyone as Tucker eyed Ollo casually shuffling the card deck and grinning up at him. “One day I’ll catch you cheatin’,” Tucker grumbled. Ollo laughed. “Not in this lifetime,” and he winked. “Coulda been worse—we coulda played strip poker, then see who’s got cards up their . . . sleeves.” “Yuk!” said Tera and Aimee in unison. Sara leaned against me, sleepily counting her winnings. I was surprised because we hadn’t been so friendly lately and besides, I was supposed to be staying away from her. “I’ve won $23.75!” she said happily. “Nice going. And you made twice that amount whipping Tucker’s ass at Halo.” Her eyes glowed, the heavy lids drooping, long lashes casting shadows over her eyes. “That was fun,” she said. “But I’m so tired, I can hardly move. I think I’ll just sleep here.”

Without a word, I scooped her up into my arms, smiling as she gave a little squeal. “Zef! What are you doing?” “Your taxi,” I said gruffly. “It’s an all-inclusive door-to-bedroom-door service.” She gave a snort of amusement but didn’t object as I limped into the RV, my brace clanging against the metal doorway, and I placed her carefully on the bed, taking off her shoes and tucking the quilt in around her. “Thank you, Zef,” she said sleepily. Then her eyes opened and she stared up. “Why are you so nice to me?” I stared back, trying to find the elusive words, but I failed. Again. “Go to sleep, Sara.” Her eyes flickered with disappointment, then closed, and soon she was deeply asleep. I watched for a moment as her chest rose and fell steadily and her pink lips popped open just a fraction. I could hear Kes and Aimee talking quietly in their room, so I closed the door and went back to the others. Zach and Luke had left, too, and Ollo had stepped outside to the bonfire, and now sat with Bo curled up in his lap. The flames were smaller now, flickering as the bonfire began to die, but they reflected in Ollo’s eyes, making him seem unearthly, something

ancient and beyond time. The world had changed around him and I wondered if he was the last of the true carnies, born on the road with many miles behind him. He took another slug of Bourbon, careful not to disturb Bo, then passed me the bottle. “I didn’t even see you cheating,” I said, raising the bottle in a salute. He gave a rough chuckle. “You’re not supposed to, that’s the point.” “Tucker got played.” Ollo grinned at me. “You all got played. You were all too busy making moon eyes at the women folk to notice what I was doing. If Tucker had caught on earlier, I’d have blamed you. Check your pants pocket for a pair of Kings, hotshot.” Frowning, I was amazed when I found the King of Hearts and the King of Spades in the pocket of my sweatpants. “I don’t know how you did that, old man, but don’t you be puttin’ your hands anywhere near my pants again!” He cackled loudly, waking a grumpy Bo who showed his objection by baring his teeth and jumping from Ollo’s lap and disappearing into the night. Ollo sighed, stretching out his short legs. “The Wampanoag tribe are from the East coast

and they tell the legend of Katama. In it a girl turns into a dolphin to be with the man she loved. She followed her heart through some hard decisions and ultimately brought peace to the Wampanoag Nation.” “Has anyone ever said that you talk in riddles, old man.” “She’s a good girl.” I didn’t bother to ask who he meant but his words were painful to hear. “She’s too young.” “Says who?” “Immature.” “You act like a big kid yourself half the time.” He smiled to himself. “I don’t know if I can trust her,” and this time my voice was serious. “Maybe you can and maybe you can’t. But it doesn’t matter who she is or what she did. It’s who is she now, that matters; what she does here. The carnival is a place to become the person you could be or should be; a place to start over. You of all people know that. She hides the truth from you, and I get that you’re angry, but she has her reasons. She’ll tell you one day.” “I can’t trust her.” “You can trust your own eyes.” I sighed. “Maybe.” “It’s no secret that you have feelings for this

girl.” “I . . .” “Look after her.” “If she lets me.” “You don’t see it, but she’s good for you.” “Yeah? Because I could swear meeting her has aged me ten years.” He smiled and leaned back on his arms. “You’re more connected. Before, you were always on the outside looking in, but she’s brought you into the circle, into the family. That’s important.” He took another slug of Bourbon and passed the bottle back to me. “What about your family, Ollo? I mean your parents, not . . . us.” “The dirt in the forest is my father and the stars above are my mother.” “How much of that Bourbon have you had?” We sat by the dying fire, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty, and I listened to stories of Ollo’s early days with the carnival: the drifting, the grifting, the canvasmen and ride jocks, the time he’d been a jointee and ran a pool game named the Tubs of Fun, all the gloriously untethered life of a traveling carnival. “The world is changing and maybe traveling carnivals won’t survive,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself, “but people will always need a

little magic in their lives.” He looked across at me, his face in darkness, only the eyes alive in his shadowy face. “And the show you boys do, that’s real magic. Motorcycle guys like you were outlaws who ran from the cops, and sold photos and later videos of their tricks, but now it’s big business. You’re the new wave carnies, but there’ll always be sawdust in your blood. Sawdust and stardust.” “And on that note . . .” I stood up unsteadily, “I’m gonna hit the head then pass out. You need a hand anywhere, old man?” Ollo shook his head. “Nope. I’m just gonna sit a while. You go on now.” I stumbled into the kitchen, trying not to mash up my knee again as I crashed around, drinking water direct from the tap. Then I limped, hopped and staggered to my bed. Wonderful invention, beds. I woke up with a start when Kes pounded on my door around four in the morning. I blinked as he opened the door and light poured into the room. His face was tense and worried. “Aimee’s having stomach pains. I’m driving her to the hospital now.” I was wide awake instantly, ignoring my pounding headache.

“Whatever you need, Kes, it’s yours.” “Thanks, man. It’s probably nothing, but . . .” “Yeah, I get it. I’ll let everyone know. I’ve got my cell if you need me.” He nodded curtly and turned away to put his arm around Aimee protectively. She looked pale and was bundled up in a quilt. She gave me a wan smile then let Kes lead her out. A second later, I heard Zach’s truck start up. I couldn’t go back to sleep after that, even though my body craved it. I headed to the kitchen and brewed some coffee, drinking two cups before heading to the fridge and rooting around for something to eat. I glanced at my phone every few minutes, but there were no messages. Frustrated and worried, I stepped outside. The air was cool this early in the morning, when the sky was gray, just a few pale streaks of light hinting at the sun hovering below the horizon. The fairground was silent, only the soft sounds of the calves and lambs from the petting zoo, their mournful cries carrying faintly on the light breeze. I limped along the midway, the stalls shut, the games empty, the rides still. I felt the weight of its history—not just the hundred years it had been open, but all the carnivals, all the fairs and circuses, all those carnies who’d traveled the world with their tent shows and plays, tricks and treats, rides and surprises.

And I felt proud to be part of that tradition, a world of outsiders within a world of people who belonged. But I was part of something. It might not be important or saving lives, but I’d come to believe that in our own way we mattered. What I did mattered—entertainment, a little magic in a digital world. And I had a family. With that sense of belonging lodged inside me, I made my way back to the RV, wanting more caffeine and calories. But in the gloom of shadows, something caught my eye, a dark shape by Ollo’s RV. As I came closer, I saw that it was Ollo himself, slumped at the bottom of the steps. Bo was clinging to him, fast asleep. I smiled to myself, deciding that last night’s Bourbon and poker match was responsible. I crouched down next to him and shook his shoulder gently “Wake up, old man. You’re making the place look untidy.” There was no movement and I wondered just how much Ollo had put away last night. For a small guy, he could sink a lot of shots before it affected him. Years of practice, I guess. Bo opened his eyes and chirruped loudly, probably something very rude by the expression on his face for disturbing his beauty sleep, then scampered off, looking for more peaceful lodgings.

I shook Ollo’s shoulder again and he groaned softly, his forehead creasing. “Hey, Ollo. Come on, I’ll help you inside.” He opened his eyes, trying to focus. “Can’t . . . can’t seem to catch my breath,” he coughed. By now I was getting worried. I helped him up and half carried him inside. He trudged slowly to his bedroom and clambered onto the bed, his breathing fast and shallow. “Oh, man, you don’t look so good, Ollo. I think I should call a doctor.” “No, no doctors. Idiots don’t know anything about being old,” he sighed. “Just pass me those pills over there.” I gave him the small bottle and watched as he swallowed two tiny pills and washed them down with water. “Feeling better already,” he said tiredly, giving me a weak smile. “Ollo, seriously . . .” “Now listen, boy,” he said, opening his eyes and glaring at me. “What’s wrong with me they can’t fix. I’d rather die than go back in a hospital. Last time they tried to put me in a retirement village, said I couldn’t cope by myself. What do they know? Well, I’ll tell you something: this is where I belong. This is my home, and this is where I’ll die. My choice. You understand?”

I nodded and stood up slowly. “Yeah, Ollo. I understand. But you need anything, you tell me. Deal?” He coughed out a wheezy laugh. “Getting soft in your old age, Zef.” I grinned with relief. “Fuck you, old man,” and turned to walk out, still smiling. I’d just made it across the threshold of my own RV when my phone vibrated in my pocket with a text from Kes. All ok. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.

“Is Daniel going to be here in time for your show on Wednesday?” Aimee asked while we were sitting around the fire pit toasting ‘smores one evening toward the end of August. I smiled, happy that my little brother would be here with his girlfriend in two days. Even better, I was cleared for lift-off and had been rehearsing with the guys and joining the performance again tomorrow so Dan would be able to see the show if he arrived in time. I hoped that he would. It had been a couple of years since he’d watched me perform and I’d get a kick out of him checking out the new stunts we’d added. And, although I didn’t admit it to anyone, I liked the idea that he could look up to me and I wouldn’t see disappointment in his face. I hated that. “I don’t know. He wasn’t sure if his coach would give him permission to take the time off. I’ve left a pass for him and Lisanne at the performers’ entrance just in case. She was taking the morning flight.” Sara threw me a confused look. “Who’s Daniel?” “My brother.”

“Your . . . your brother is coming to see you? Here?” “Yeah, thought I’d mentioned it.” “No! No you did not mention it!” she huffed. “Um, okay.” “It is not okay! It most definitely is not okay!” And she stood up from the fire pit and ran off in tears. Again. Sighing, I started to stand, but Aimee patted my shoulder. “Sometimes you can be such an oaf, Zef. I’ll go find her.” Okay, I knew I wasn’t the smartest thing on two legs, but I didn’t get it. We weren’t in a relationship and she’d basically blown me off so why was she upset? I looked around at the rest of the guys, wondering what the hell had just happened. “What did she call me?” “Oaf!” chorused Tucker and Ollo. “Huh. Thought so.” I shrugged. Women were weird.

The following day, the day before Dan’s visit, Sara came to me. Her mouth twisted and her hands fidgeted restlessly. “Um, Zef, can I ask you a favor?”

I stood up straight and wiped my oil-stained hands on a rag. “Sure.” “I’d have asked Aimee, but I know she has to rest . . .” “What do you need?” She pulled a face. “I don’t have anything to wear for Daniel’s visit.” I blinked, taken aback, but I wanted to smile, too. It was such a normal kind of question— different from the crazy shit we’d been dealing with lately. “You don’t need to wear anything special for my little brother.” “Well, I . . . I want to make a good first impression. And . . . nothing fits!” The last words came out in a wail, and I realized that her hands were pressed over the growing bump of her stomach. She was so cute when she wasn’t throwing a hissy fit or crying. Fuckin’ sexy, too. Damn, I had to shelve that thought. But then realization swept over me. “You want me to take you shopping for clothes?” “I could ask Tera,” she said uncertainly. “She’s been really nice, but I don’t know her that well . . .” “No, it’s fine. I’ll take you. Give me ten

minutes to clean up.” “Thanks, Zef!” she sang as she skipped away. “This should be interesting,” I muttered to myself. I peeled off the thin latex gloves that I used when I was doing bike maintenance. They kept off most of the oil and grease, but not all of it. So then I had to scrub my hands and rifle through my clothes to find a clean t-shirt and shorts. I really needed to do laundry soon. I banged on the door to Zach’s RV. “Okay if I take the truck?” He barely looked up from his computer. “Help yourself.” I plucked the key from the hook by the door and headed out. Sara was excited, her eyes lit up at the prospect of a morning away from the carnival. She used her phone to direct me to a mall, almost bouncing in her seat at the prospect. When I saw the size of the mall, I felt like turning around. The place was massive. I had a bad feeling that she might be the kind of woman who wanted to visit every single store. “Don’t look so grumpy,” she laughed. “It’ll be fun.” ‘Fun’ and ‘shopping’ wasn’t an equation that I understood, so I grunted a noncommittal answer and she giggled, leaning over to pat my leg.

I threw her a look. “When we get back I’m going to teach you to drive a stick, then you can take yourself shopping.” Her smile dimmed. “You can wait in the truck if you like. I’ll be real quick.” And once again, I felt like the biggest asshole alive. “Nah, I’ll come with. We can pick up some lunch while we’re here.” Smiling a little awkwardly, she let me help her out of the cab, smoothing her borrowed dress over her baby bump. My throat tightened at that simple gesture. “We’re not going on to a club or anything after Daniel’s game, right?” she asked, scanning the line of shops, a small frown on her face. “We’re just going to see the team play?” I shrugged. “Dan said he’d get us passes to watch from one of the VIP boxes and there’s usually nonstop food and alcohol being served during the game. There might be a party after, but wear what you like. Dan won’t care.” She gave me a look that should have shriveled me on the spot. “A VIP box! Are you kidding me? Oh my God! So much pressure! I have to find something cute and I’m so fat!”

She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I scratched my beard, more than a little out of my depth. “What are you wearing?” she asked, frustration painting her face. “Me?” I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.” She grimaced and shook her head. “I’ve never seen you wear anything other than jeans, shorts or your leathers. Do you even own a necktie?” Why did she think I’d be wearing a tie to a football game? Chick was crazy! As it happened, I owned a tux, complete with vest, tie and button down shirt which I’d bought for Kes’s wedding last year. Following Aimee’s instructions. Maybe I’d surprise Sara by bringing it out of retirement one day. I didn’t say anything. I thought Sara would enjoy her morning of shopping, but after the third shop, she seemed close to tears again. I’d found myself a seat after the first shop and watched her from there. “Nothing fits anymore,” she sniffed. “I’m enormous!” “You’re not enormous,” I said patiently, thinking she looked like a piece of string with a knot tied in the middle. “You’re having a baby.” “God, don’t I know it!”

I cast a sideways look, wondering if this was the precursor to one of her epic meltdowns. “Maybe we should look in one of those maternity shops instead?” I suggested. She sighed and wiped her nose with a tissue. “I’m sorry. I’m being a brat. I just wanted to look nice for once.” “You always look nice, Sara. You’re beautiful.” She swallowed and looked up at me shyly. “You think so?” “Yeah, so you can stop fishing now.” She gave a little laugh and swatted my arm. At least the tears seemed to have abated for now. “I just . . . I feel weird about going into a maternity shop. I never thought . . . well, I guess I’ll give it a try.” Eventually, she found a shop that sold clothes for moms-to-be and tried on a ton of dresses, skirts, and pants in various sizes. They even had strap-on padded stomachs that you could wear to show what you’d look like at six months and nine months. Too fuckin’ freaky. But at least Sara seemed like she was having fun at last. I looked out of place, and earned a few sympathetic glances from other women and a head nod from another guy who was also marooned outside the changing rooms. “Your first time?” I glanced up questioningly at the older sales

assistant who was smiling at me. “Excuse me?” “Is this your first child?” I hesitated, unsure what to say, but not wanting to give long explanations either. “Yeah, first time.” “Congratulations!” she said. “And how nice that you’ve come shopping with your young lady.” “Uh, thanks.” I was saved from saying more when Sara came out holding a pile of clothes in her arms. Her cheeks were pink and I wasn’t sure if that was from the heat of the changing room or because she’d heard my short exchange with the sales assistant. We walked in silence to the cash register and when she started counting out dollar bills, I handed over my credit card. “Zef,” she hissed, “you’re not going to pay for me!” I ignored her and signed my name as she threw me angry looks and huffily stuffed the bills back in her purse. We left the store with me carrying five bags. That was a lot of clothes, and more than I’d even owned in the last six years. I forced myself to hide my smile as I watched Sara. She was trying to decide whether or not to be mad at me for taking over, or grateful that I’d taken her shopping and she’d gotten a bunch of new

clothes. “Thank you,” she said curtly. “You’re welcome.” “Why did you do that?” she asked with a scowl. “Because I could.” She waited for more. “Well, you didn’t need to because I could have afforded them by myself. Zach paid me for all the work I did on the website.” “Good. You’ll need it when the baby comes. Want some lunch?” “I . . . uh . . . yes, please. I’m starving,” she admitted, still looking confused. Sara picked a place that had pizza and a salad bar, and started eating her way through a plateful of rabbit food that she said was healthy, then decided that she was still hungry and ordered a whole pizza and ate part of mine, as well. I was pleased to see that she had an appetite and seemed to have gotten over her morning sickness. There’s only so many times a guy can hear a woman barf first thing every morning and not feel sick himself. “Why did you let that woman think you were Peanut’s father?” “What? Who?” She blushed. “I couldn’t keep calling him or her ‘it’, and

when I had the sonogram the nurse said the baby was the size of a peanut, so . . .” “Got it. Peanut. The kid’s going to hate you in high school.” She laughed happily. “Silly! That’s a for-now name. But seriously, why didn’t you say something to that woman?” “It seemed easier to go along with her than give a long explanation.” Sara shook her head. “You could have said you’re just a friend.” I felt like we’d been having this conversation for months. I was still here—it was up to her to decide what she wanted. I leaned back in my chair, meeting her curious gaze. “We are friends,” I acknowledged. “But you’re the one who’s put me in the friend-zone, and that’s fine, I’ll be your friend. If you want more, I’m right here.” She blinked rapidly and sucked in her lips. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “Of what?” She gave a sad little laugh. “Everything. I’m scared of everything: when the baby comes, how much it’s going to hurt. I’m scared that I won’t know what to do, that I’ll be a bad mom.” She looked down. “I’m scared of being alone. And you’re my best friend, and I’m scared

that if it all goes wrong, I’ll have no one.” That was a lot for anyone to take on, let alone an eighteen year-old who’d run away from home. But as she was finally talking to me . . . “Who’s the baby’s father, Sara?” She looked up, shocked, angry and upset. “After everything I just said, and that’s what you ask me?” she snapped. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” “Fuck’s sake! Of course it matters! It matters because whatever happened to you, it made you run away from your home. It matters because every time you take his phone call, you’re in pieces again. It matters because one day your kid is going to want to know who’s the daddy and why he isn’t in your lives. It matters because I keep waiting for him to come for you and take you away, and then I’ll be the one who’s alone.” Her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and she stared at me. I leaned forward, refusing to let her look away. “Tell me who the father is, Sara.” She swallowed and then straightened her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know who’s the father of my baby. And that’s the truth.”

Sara Rage. That’s what I saw on Zef’s face and it terrified me. His hazel eyes seemed to darken with anger and his lips tightened into an implacable flat line. My heart pounded so hard, so fast that I was afraid I might faint, and darkness filled my vision. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” I said hurriedly, my words tumbling out in a rush so rapid I was sure he wouldn’t understand. “I wasn’t . . . nobody hurt me. Not . . . like that.” He gripped the edge of the table, his eyes burning black. I looked around nervously, wishing I hadn’t started this but knowing I couldn’t clam up again, even though I wanted to. “Can we talk in the truck?” My voice came out in a whisper and my eyes were pleading, but I wouldn’t have blamed him if he walked away and left me here. It was what I deserved. He gave a curt nod then stood up so suddenly, his chair fell backwards, clattering on the tiled floor and making my frayed nerves skitter and jump.

Everyone turned to stare, and my heart thumped in anticipation of an anger that was only just in check. I wasn’t afraid that he’d hurt me physically, but I was terrified that I disgusted him, heartbroken that I’d disappointed him. Without speaking, he scooped up my shopping bags and strode back to the truck. I had to half run to keep up with his long strides, but when he realized that I was out of breath, he slowed his pace, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I felt sick and faint, but whether that was from the heat slamming into my thin sandals from the sidewalk or the knowledge of what I had to tell him, I didn’t know. Because there were two terrible secrets that I’d kept inside of me—and the worst was that I’d fallen in love with Zef. It was the worst because of my other secret, festering away, hidden . . .

Earlier that summer . . . I was so sick of the arguments. I needed to get out. Even on my birthday, they wouldn’t leave me alone. My (former) best friend, Talia, had seemed sympathetic, even though I hadn’t told her everything that was going on with

me. It turned out that I was right not to trust her. But at the time of my birthday, we were still close, or so I thought. She arranged for a bunch of our friends to go over to the fair at the county grounds on the edge of town. I needed the distraction, but I hadn’t wanted to be stuck with them either, especially as I was in such a bad mood all the time, so I said I’d meet them there. But then Talia had gone behind my back and told Owen where I’d be. She knew I’d been avoiding him, she just didn’t know why . . . with good reason. He ambushed me by the Ferris wheel, demanding that I give him an answer. “Tell me! You’re going to do it, right? Tell me!” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. I was so scared that I found the strength to pull free and I ran and ran, losing myself in the crowds. I knew that I couldn’t go back to my car, so I made my way toward the small arena, because that was the busiest part of the fair and I needed to stay hidden. I couldn’t think, didn’t know what to do, so I hid in the crowds, keeping my head down. I could hear the buzz and roar of a motorcycle show, and every now and then I saw these crazy guys as they popped up above the screens around the arena’s perimeter, doing handstands, spins, turns and somersaults in the air. Even though I was still shaking with fear from Owen’s assault, I’d been mesmerized by everything

that I saw. What would it be like to be so free, free from fear, free from all the things that tied me to this small town, to all the disappointment, arguments and hatred? When the crowds began to thin out again, I retreated even further. I hid in a stand of trees on the edge of the fairground with no plan in mind, except that I had to stay away from Owen. I knew that the motorcycle show had finished, because the roar of the crowd had reached a crescendo then died away to a low rumble as people headed back along the midway. And that’s when I saw the man. One of the stunt riders that I’d been watching came bumping across the dusty lot on his bike. They’d all worn black leathers, but he was the one wearing a helmet with slashes of electric blue like lightning. I’d seem him cartwheeling across the sky on his bike— unbelievably high. I watched as he parked under the shade of a tree, propping the bike on its slim stand and pulling off his helmet. His hair was jet black and he looked tall and lean like a panther with an air of danger surrounding him. I shrunk back into the trees, my heart beating wildly. I didn’t know then, but he was Zef. My Zef. When he turned in my direction, I was surprised to see that he had a thick, black beard. I

don’t know why I found it sexy, but I did. I’d never liked beards or even scruff that much. But then again, none of the boys at school could grow a full beard, certainly not Owen. Then he started stripping off the rest of his clothes. The black leathers peeled from him in one piece like a second skin, until he was standing in tight-fitting briefs. I could see colorful tattoos down both arms and across his shoulders, something else written across his ribs in scrolling black ink. He picked up a bottle of water, and I licked my lips as he drank deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, droplets pouring over his pink lips and beard, trickling down his firm chest and hard, flat stomach. And then right in the open, completely at home, he slid out of his briefs. I was so shocked to see that his dick was hard, jutting out from his body proudly, large and dominating. He started washing himself under a makeshift shower. I could tell that the water was cold, because he hissed slightly as it cascaded over his back and tight, round butt. He washed himself all over, stroking his dick unapologetically, then tugging lightly at his balls. I leaned closer, fascinated. I don’t know if he heard me or simply felt me watching him, because he turned in my direction, his eyes searching the stand of trees where I was

hidden. I was sure he must have seen me, but his eyes passed over, and not finding what he was looking for, he went back to washing himself. And that’s when I had this crazy idea. I’d hide in the truck. I could do it easily. It was parked next to his outdoor shower. Simple to sneak in when he wasn’t looking. I knew it was the fair’s last day because the dates had been advertised in all the flyers around town. I didn’t know where they were going to next and I didn’t care. It was such a dumb idea, running away to join the circus, but I kept thinking, why not? I needed some time, some space to think and make my own decisions. My parents kept trying to make them for me, especially my mom. It was making me crazy. The man with the beard finished his shower and walked away toward the group of motorhomes butt naked. And I made my decision. I waited as the light began to fall and the fairground emptied. I waited and watched as the bearded man and several others donned thick leather work gloves and started tearing down the ramps and bleachers, stowing everything into the truck. I began to worry that there’d be no room for me, but when they’d nearly finished, I managed to squeeze into a tiny space in the far corner without being seen. I really hadn’t thought it through. I had no food or water, no spare clothes, just a

few hundred dollars of birthday money that my grandfather had sent me stuffed in my purse. When the truck shuddered to life a short while later, I was more scared than I’d ever been in my life, but I was excited, too. I was getting away, from all of them. I wouldn’t have to listen to their voices scolding me, peck, peck, peck. Finally the voices would be silenced. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep as the truck bumped and swayed uncomfortably, the road roaring beneath me, but I must have, because when we stopped, I woke up. I didn’t know where I was, but nowhere was as good a place as somewhere, so I decided to climb out and take a chance. The only problem was I couldn’t open the damn doors. I used the torch app on my phone to try and figure it out, ignoring twenty-three missed calls and a bunch of texts, but as my phone started to die, I realized that I was stuck. So I scrolled through them and sent a quick message to my dad saying that I was okay. I lied and said that I was staying with a friend for a while to figure things out. Then I turned off my phone and went back to my little nest in the rear of the truck. I was tired—tired to my bones. I hadn’t slept much for the last few weeks, but I fell deeply, soundly asleep.

I dreamed of the man with the beard, and in that dream he was naked and dark clouds hung above his head like a dark purple halo. The next time I woke up, I was desperate to pee, and the man with the beard was yelling at me. I crawled out blinking, terrified by the way he was glaring at me. I nearly fell out of the truck, but he caught me in his arms. Even though he looked mad and radiated fury, his hands were gentle and he helped me stand without wobbling. I felt a second of security and safety before he set me on my feet . . . and started yelling again. “I’m sorry!” I whispered, pathetic and afraid. He lifted his hand and I automatically flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, sounding grumpy rather than angry. “You’ve got some spider webs in your hair.” I screamed and started to freak out. He looked even more irritated but amused, too, as I started scrabbling at my hair, imagining spiders crawling all over me. Major freak out! Then some of his friends arrived and I was certain they’d kick me out, but they didn’t: they welcomed me and made me breakfast. Somehow the Universe had decided that I’d suffered enough, so it had brought me here, to this crazy carnie family. His name was Zef and at first he didn’t want to know me. I was a pain in his ass that he couldn’t

shake. But even though he tried hard to ignore my existence, he was unfailingly kind, like it was his default setting and he just couldn’t help himself. He pretended to be grumpy, but I could tell by the way the others kept laughing at him that he wasn’t usually like this. He was definitely quieter than his friends, but I liked that about him—it was restful. Tucker was funny and nice, and Aimee was really friendly, but Kes scared me a little so I tried to stay away from him. And then there was Ollo. I’d never met anyone like him before and I was a bit scared of him, too, the way he kept watching me. But it wasn’t long before I thought of him as a sort of honorary grandfather. He joined me by the bonfire that first evening. “You have secrets, girl,” he said in his squeaky, creaky voice. “You have questions, too, but you can find your answers here if you look hard enough.” “Um, thank you?” He laughed crookedly. “A Blackfoot legend tells of Feather Woman who fell in love with the Morning Star. Everyone said it was impossible, but Morning Star loved her back and took her to meet his parents, his father the Sun and his mother the Moon.” I frowned in confusion, uncertain why he was telling me this.

“That’s a nice story. Does it have a happy ending?” He smiled enigmatically. “Mostly.” That made me laugh. “Then it’s not a very good love story if it doesn’t have ‘And they lived happily ever after’.” Ollo grinned, his eyes crinkling until they almost disappeared. “But that wouldn’t be like real life, would it?” He glanced across the bonfire and I saw Zef staring at us, a frown on his face. I didn’t know what to think. I felt bad that he’d given up his room, but it was kind of nice to sleep in his bed. Even though he’d changed the sheets for me, the pillows smelled faintly of him, of his soap. I liked that. When I was sick the next morning, he quickly figured out that I was pregnant. It had taken seven weeks for my own mother to come to the same conclusion. She must have thought I had the worst case of stomach flu ever, but I guess she didn’t really care that much. Or perhaps because she just didn’t notice me most of the time. Anyway, I thought for sure that Zef and the others would send me home, but once again they surprised me. I began to realize that carnie people were different from everyone else—no one was judged for what you were or who you were, just

how you behaved to other carnies. Luke and Zach were openly together and no one batted an eyelash. It was a little surprising when all the men—and especially the other stunt riders—seemed so super macho, but truly, no one cared. Luke was the fourth of the Daredevils and wore a white helmet with gold wings painted up the sides. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of Hermes, the Greek messenger god. He was just as daring and swaggering as the others when he performed, but away from the arena he was quiet and shy and sat playing his guitar and singing sad songs. Sometimes I’d sit nearby watching Luke and Zef work on the motorcycles. I guessed that they were the best mechanics as they were the two who usually did it. They’d sit side-by-side for a couple of hours, hardly talking, but completely at ease with the silence of each other’s company. And I saw all the little things Zef did to help other people. He always hooked up Ollo’s power and water before he did his own, and he wouldn’t let me carry anything heavier than my purse, which was sweet but kind of annoying, too. He was amazing with children. All the carnie kids adored Zef, and Tucker, too. They were all a little in awe of Kes even though he was nicer to the kids than he was to most people, but it was Zef that they all came to with their problems. If your bicycle

had a flat tire, Zef would patch it, taking the time to explain what he was doing; if your big brother was picking on you, Zef would carry you on his broad shoulders and tell you about all the crazy things he did when he was a kid. And with the children who came to see the show, he was so patient, answering all their questions, signing programs, talking to them seriously and reminding them not to try the stunts at home. And the women—they were drawn to all of the Daredevils. I couldn’t blame them. The guys were all super good-looking and had charisma—and weren’t interested. Kes was with Aimee and didn’t have eyes for anyone else, which made me a little sad—not because I was attracted to Kes, but because I wondered why I hadn’t been enough for Owen. Why had he cheated on me again and again? And it wasn’t just because he could. Kes had chances every freakin’ hour of the day to hook up if he wanted to, they all did. But none of them kept a phone number they were given or made arrangements to meet any women. Obviously, I knew that Luke was gay, and Aimee told me that Tucker had a steady girlfriend back in California, but I couldn’t work out why Zef didn’t seem interested in any of the offers he had. He was polite but cool with his female fans, which made them adore him even more because he maybe

an air of aloofness, an aura of unavailability. But why? No one mentioned a girlfriend, and I was pretty sure that he wasn’t gay, so what was going on with him? He ignored me as if I had the plague, but I couldn’t help noticing that if I needed a hand with anything, he’d be there, quietly helping me. He was always there when I needed him. Always. It was confusing. I kept throwing myself in his direction, hoping he’d notice me, and sometimes I thought he did. So I never gave up. See? I can be smart. And when we kissed, it was everything I’d dreamed about and more. But I had no right. No right to have feelings for him. I could tell that the age difference bothered him, even though I didn’t really get why. I thought guys were supposed to like dating younger women? And the age thing didn’t bother me. But I was pregnant and that did bother me; I knew that starting something with him wasn’t fair. And then Aimee and I had our little chat, and she explained about his ex-girlfriend. Who was pregnant. With another man’s child. It’s hard to explain how painful that news was to me. My heart ached to think someone had done that to him, but I felt like the biggest hypocrite on

earth, too. I backed off, and I knew that had hurt him as much as it hurt me. I’d fallen for this big, kind, silent man. I’d fallen for his passion, his honesty, his amazing talent, his thoughtfulness, and his devotion to his carnie family. So here I was, eighteen, pregnant, and in love with a man who wasn’t the father of my baby. My mixed messages were giving both of us a headache. But here he was, still being my friend. And now I had to tell him the ugly truth. Zef wouldn’t look at me as he shoved my shopping bags in the back of the truck and helped me climb into the cab. Then he slid in next to me and waited for me to talk. The tension was thick and heavy, like a storm about to break. My hands were shaking so badly, I had to press my palms together and force them into my lap. “I’ve been wondering how to tell you every day,” I said, feeling sick and guilty. “But every time I chickened out because there’s no easy way . . . because I was afraid . . . I am afraid that you’ll look at me differently.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m afraid that you’ll stop being my friend, that you won’t want to know me. And I couldn’t bear that.” He still wouldn’t look at me, but nodded to

show that he was listening. “Okay,” I gulped. “Okay, I’ll tell you.” I took a deep breath, wishing my hands would stop shaking. “Owen was my boyfriend since the beginning of Junior year. Maybe even a little before, because we all hung out by the river during summer vacation and we’d started talking. But we had our first date once school began again. It was kind of a big deal him asking me out because he played varsity baseball and his family is important. They have a lot of money and Owen’s father is the sheriff. You know small town politics,” and I gave a weak smile. Zef didn’t smile back, but I could tell that he was listening intently. “It was kind of cliché when I lost my virginity at our Junior prom in the back of his car. He was . . . sweet.” I bit my lip as Zef’s hands tightened on the truck’s steering wheel and I could have kicked myself for that mistake. I’d called Zef ‘sweet’ and now I’d just gone and said it about Owen. The difference was that I’d been wrong about my exboyfriend; Owen being sweet was part of his act to get in my pants. I wasn’t wrong about Zef. “So, he was away at baseball camp for most of the summer before Senior year but he’d changed when he came back; he was cocky and arrogant. I found out later that he’d cheated on me with several girls, but I didn’t know that until much later.

He was being scouted by schools from Minnesota and Michigan so he had a good chance of getting a full ride. He was kind of full of himself, you know? He’d talk about us going to the same school, but I wasn’t really expecting it to work out. But my parents . . .” I paused, still feeling the bitterness curdle my stomach, “they thought he was so freakin’ wonderful. Mom kept telling me how lucky I was that a boy like him was interested in me. She was best friends with Owen’s mom since high school—they were always together. I think it was kind of Mom’s dream that Owen and I would get married one day.” My throat was dry and I licked my lips. Zef noticed right away and pulled a bottle of water out of one of the shopping bags and passed it to me. He didn’t speak. “Thank you,” I said quietly, taking a sip. We sat in silence for several minutes and I wished he’d say something, anything, but he didn’t —he just stared out of the window waiting for me to finish. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I took a deep breath and plunged on. “One evening we went to this party. One of Owen’s friends was having a massive bonfire and a ton of people over. We only had six weeks until our graduation at the beginning of June so there was this feeling that everything was ending and everything was possible; scary but exciting. We had

a few drinks then snuck into one of the bedrooms and . . . we had sex. But an hour later, Owen was flirting with this girl from school and I got so mad at him. He said something like he wasn’t going to be nagged by me and we weren’t married yet. It made me feel sick, like he’d do that in front of me and still thought we might get married one day?” I shuddered. “So I tossed my drink in his face and he really lost it. I even thought that he might hit me, so I ran out of the party. I didn’t have a ride and I was a little drunk and really upset. When I saw a car following me I got scared . . .” I saw Zef’s knuckles turn white and his arm muscles trembled with tension. I hurried on, wishing I could stop talking, knowing that I couldn’t. “But then I saw it was Owen’s dad, and I was so relieved. I’d always liked Liam. He was kind of good looking for an older guy and kept in shape— all the moms thought he was hot. And he was always really nice to me, he used to really listen when I talked about my plans for college and how I wanted to work in the media. And he was so great to me that night. When I told him what Owen had said, he pulled over to the side of the road and gave me this big hug and said everything would work out and that it would be okay. I just blurted everything out. I was so upset that Owen had cheated on me

and was flirting with other girls in front of me. Then Liam got really mad about that, and I liked it. I liked that he’d stand up for me against his own son, because he said that what Owen had done was wrong. That’s what he said. He said . . . he said . . . that any man would be a fool to cheat on me, and that I was really smart and pretty. When he kissed me, I liked it. I wanted him to kiss me.” I looked out of the window, unseeing what was in front of me, only the ribbons of memory from the car crash that night became. “He was comforting me, and we started kissing, and I wasn’t really thinking, just that it would serve Owen right. I hadn’t meant it to go that far, but I didn’t try to stop him either. The first time we slept together was that night in the back of his sheriff’s car. I don’t even remember that much about it, but he made me feel like a woman and not a dumb high school kid whose boyfriend didn’t care enough to be faithful. Even when he was . . . on me . . . I kind of felt bad about it, too, because even though I’d never liked his wife, Tilly, she was Mom’s best friend. But it was addicting, the danger, the risk, knowing that it would be a shitstorm if we were caught. We did it a few more times when Tilly and Owen were out. We did it in Owen’s bed once and even though I knew that was weird, it was like a giant fuck you for everything that he’d done to me, so I didn’t care.”

I shot Zef a quick look, but his face was blank. “Owen started coming around to my house saying he was sorry and wanting to get back with me, but I wasn’t interested. Mom kept pushing me to take him back and she couldn’t understand why I kept saying no, and she got so mad at me. But I was still seeing Liam . . . and then . . . and then I realized that I’d missed a period. I thought it was just from the stress. It didn’t really occur to me that I could be pregnant. But I took a test anyway, thinking nothing of it. And then . . . I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t. I’d been careful—I’d been on the pill and I never missed a day, never forgot to take it, so how could I be pregnant? I was so scared. I knew I’d have to tell Liam, but then I started thinking maybe the baby was Owen’s . . . so that’s why I don’t know who’s my baby’s father.” I raised my eyes to his, afraid of what I’d see on Zef’s face. “Do you hate me?”

Zef It took me a few seconds to take in her question. My whole body was shaking so hard, I felt like I could tear off the steering wheel and toss it through the windshield. I tried to control my temper, but it was rearing up inside me like a dark demon. “Let me get this straight, Sara,” I said carefully, my voice cold and controlled as the anger bubbled in the pit of my stomach. “This older guy, this Liam, your boyfriend’s father, the goddamn Sheriff, takes a seventeen year-old girl in the back of his cop car, promises to help you, and then fucks you when you’re drunk? Am I hearing this right?” I turned my head slowly, my obvious anger pinning her to the seat. Her eyes darted around wildly as if she was looking for a way to escape. “I . . . I didn’t say no. At the time I thought I wanted him to . . .” I shook my head slowly. “He took advantage of you, you know that, right?” “I . . .” She flushed and looked down, but I grabbed her

chin and forced her to look at me. “Sara!” “What do you want me to say?” she cried out, pulling her face from my hands. “I did it! I wanted to do it! And I kept on doing it! I know you think I’m a giant slut and maybe I am! I didn’t say no. I should have. Maybe. But I didn’t.” And she lifted her chin. “It was consensual. We both said so.” I shook my head. I could see exactly what had happened even if she couldn’t. It made me furious that she was still defending the bastard. In my opinion, he was barely better than a rapist. Fuck, he could have been grooming her for years, just waiting for his chance. His son’s 17 year-old girlfriend, for fuck’s sake! I jumped out of the truck, needing to move, to do something before I started yelling or acting even more crazy than I already was. I stood with my eyes closed, face turned to the burning sun, feeling the heat coming up through the concrete of the parking lot, sweat running down my back. But I felt cold, ice-cold inside. When I turned back to the truck, I could see her narrow shoulders shaking, her hands wrapped protectively around her swollen belly. I opened her door, torn in half by her hiccupping cry of shock as I lifted her into my arms. I held her as she sobbed, crying her heart out:

for him, for her baby, for the crashing end of her innocence, I didn’t know. “It’s going to be alright now,” I whispered. I hoped I wasn’t lying. When her sobs calmed, I let her slide down against my body, rocking her slowly in my arms, feeling her small body with its firm bump fold against me. She peeked up, her eyes glazed and red, her nose and cheeks pink. “You don’t hate me?” “No. I couldn’t hate you, Sara.” She swallowed. “Not even a little bit?” “Not even a little bit.” She gave a watery smile and sighed. I took her hand and led her over to a small coffee shop that had a couple of tables out on the sidewalk sheltered by large sun umbrellas, and ordered her one of those iced coffees with whipped cream that girls like, and a bottle of water for myself. We sat quietly but it felt more like the eye of the storm than a lasting peace. When her iced coffee arrived, I thought I’d ordered a dessert by mistake rather than a caffeinated beverage, but it seemed to cheer her up a little and she smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She pulled the long spoon out of her coffee and licked the cream off slowly and thoughtfully, concentrating hard. It reminded me so much of the one time we’d been intimate, that I had to look away. She didn’t notice. I cleared my throat and rearranged my thoughts away from something that would embarrass both of us. “Which of the two assholes has been calling your cell?” Her lips froze around the spoon’s bowl for a second, then she set it down carefully, but she didn’t answer. I idly wondered what the charges would be for kicking the crap out of a piece of shit Sheriff. Not that I was desperate to find out, but there was no question in my mind that he deserved it. “Owen called a few times at the start, when I first left, but he doesn’t now.” “So it’s Liam.” She gave a sharp little nod, a jerk of her head, as her eyes tightened. “He’s getting desperate. Another month and I’ll be too far along to . . . get rid of it.” “He wants you to have an abortion?” Her face was a bitter mask. “They all want me to. Mom says I’m ruining my life and Owen’s. I . . . I couldn’t tell them that it

might be Liam’s. But he knows. That’s why he keeps calling me.” She stared at her coffee, the crushed ice slowly melting in the intense heat. “Owen doesn’t know about Liam either. I was going to do what they wanted. The procedure was scheduled and everything. Mom was going to drive me, but I felt like I hadn’t made the decision myself. The doctor and nurses at the clinic were really nice and told me I needed to be sure. Mom was so furious when I left without getting it done. I caught the bus home.” Her story was heart-breaking. She’d had to make a lot of big decisions in her young life. “When did you decide to leave home?” She gave a wry smile. “About five minutes before I climbed in the back of the rig.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m responsible like that.” “And now? You’ve decided to keep it?” She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “I’m going to see the obstetrician with Aimee next week. We could find out if we’re having a boy or a girl, if we want to know. How can I think of my baby as an ‘it’ then?” She paused. “I think maybe I just didn’t want to make a decision, so maybe this is the right choice for me. I know it’s going to be hard. Single parents don’t have it easy and I don’t even have a college degree.” Then she gave a small smile. “But I don’t have any college loans to pay

back either. I think . . . I think we’re going to be okay.” She stroked her stomach, a soft smile on her face. I leaned across the table and held her hand, pressing it against the material of her sundress. “You’re going to do just fine, Sara. You’ll be a great mom.” “Do you think so? You’re just being nice. I see you with the carnie kids and you’re like this amazing big brother, but I just look at them and . . .” she laughed a little. “When I wanted to earn extra pocket money, I’d always rather do chores than babysitting, even yard work. Being pregnant, it didn’t feel real for ages. Even now sometimes I forget. And I don’t know how I could forget when I’ve got this to remind me! My little Peanut, getting bigger every day.” And she poked her belly affectionately. “So Peanut stays?” She laughed brightly. “Looks like!” “And the father?” “What about him?” she scowled. “Neither of them care! They want the problem to go away. Fine! I’ve gone away!” It annoyed me when she acted so childish. I had to remind myself that in many ways she still had a lot of growing up to do.

“Well, what are you going to tell Peanut when he or she is old enough to ask?” “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. I nodded slowly. “Well, I guess the first thing would be to have a paternity test and find out which of them is the father.” She shook her head. “Why drag them through the legal system and have them take a paternity test? I don’t want child support from either of them. I don’t see why they should be legally entitled to rights to a baby neither of them wants.” I thought about that—but there was one big, glaring reason why she might want to know. “What about when he or she asks you who their father is one day? What would you say?” Her eyes went wide and she chewed her lip, before darting a quick glance at me. “Yeah, I guess.” “Do you want me to talk to Liam?” Her head shot up. “What? No! Why would you talk to him?” “To tell him to lay off. Every time he calls, you get upset and that’s not good for you or the baby.” And maybe I’d like to kick his judicial ass, just for fun. Her expression softened. “I still don’t know why you’re so nice to me,

Zef. I’ve been such a heinous bitch to you.” “Nah, I like women who are hard work. Easy is boring.” She laughed out loud and I couldn’t help smiling, too. “Sara, can I ask you a question?” “Sure! Why stop now? I’ve just bared my entire soul to you.” I wasn’t so sure about that, but I plowed on. “When we nearly fucked, did I do something to upset you? Because you backed off pretty fast.” Her cheeks turned red and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry about that,” she mumbled. Gently, I peeled her hands away from her glowing face. “Sara?” She huffed out a breath. “Because I like you!” I raised my eyebrows. “You backed off because you like me?” “It sounds stupid when you say it like that, but yes. I thought you deserved more than to be with someone who was pregnant and couldn’t even say who the father is! It wasn’t fair to you. And I liked you, so I didn’t want to use you.” “I was rather enjoying you using me,” I muttered under my breath, a wry expression on my

face that made her laugh. “So now we’ve got that cleared up, I’m taking you on a date.” “Are you telling me or asking me?” she said sassily. “Telling you.” “Oh!” “Yeah.” I picked up her hand from the table, her skin cool from where she’d been holding her iced coffee. “There’s something here,” I said, lifting her chin so she’d look me in the eyes. “I say we give it a shot.” Her mouth twisted. “What if it doesn’t work?” she whispered. “You’re my only friend.” “I’ll still be your friend, but I’m not the only one. The carnival is your family now.” Her eyes started to fill with tears, but then she gave a little hiccup of surprise, her lips forming a pout. “Oh my God! I think he just kicked! Here, feel!” She placed my hand on her belly and I immediately felt a small kick. It was the strangest sensation, and a smile grew across my face. “Peanut says you should definitely date me,” I grinned. “And Peanut is never wrong.” “Never?” she laughed.

“Nope, not until he can talk.” “Peanut might be a she.” “Then we’re both in trouble.”

Sara I felt happy, truly happy. Zef said he wanted to date me even after I’d told him the truth about Liam and Owen. I couldn’t believe it. I thought once he knew the ugly truth that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. Instead, he’d been amazing and supportive, and he liked me. I was really looking forward to our date tonight. Zef said he wanted to take me to a fancy restaurant, but I’d talked him into a stroll along the midway after his show and a ride on the Ferris wheel. I was in my room getting ready, trying to decide which of the cute maternity dresses I’d wear tonight and which I’d save for meeting Zef’s brother tomorrow. I was a little nervous about that. His brother was really famous—I’d Googled him and something like five million hits had shown up. I had no idea! I hadn’t been that much into football because Dad didn’t watch it and Owen played baseball. Pathetic, I know. I knew Quarterbacks

were important, but Daniel Colton seemed to have a ton of followers from his underwear endorsements alone. I could see he was cute, but Zef was much better looking, in my opinion. Who knew I’d have a thing for beards? I was still undecided about which dress to choose when I realized that Zef was standing almost directly outside my window and talking to someone. I couldn’t resist taking a little peek. “Dan! What are you doing here?” A man with Zef’s crow black hair and dark eyes was grinning at him. A few years younger, he had the wide shoulders and muscular build of a football player. “What? I can’t come and hang out with my big brother?” And then the strangest thing happened—they stopped talking. At least they stopped talking with their voices. As they waved their hands around, it became clear that they were talking in sign language. I’d read online that Daniel was deaf and only the second deaf man to play in the NFL. But it hadn’t occurred to me that Zef would know sign language. Another Zef-shaped mystery for me to uncover. I wondered if I’d ever get to know everything about him. I hoped so, but the man had so many layers, and I remembered what my Grandma used

to say about still waters running deep . . .

Zef Dan pulled me into a hug and did his best to break a rib. When he stepped back there were deep emotions in his eyes. “I thought I wasn’t seeing you until tomorrow,” I said, slapping him on the back, “but it’s a great surprise, little brother.” Dan grinned. “Yeah, thought I’d surprise you. Lisanne was tired so she’s taking a nap at the hotel. She says hi and she’ll see you tomorrow.” “Sounds good.” Dan: Is K-e-s around? I was going to tell you all that your show was fucking epic! You’ve got some great new stunts. I nearly shit myself when you did that jump through the wall of flame. Is your ACL okay now? Zef: Yes, good as new. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but now you’re here, there’s someone I want you to meet. Dan: What the fuck? Seriously? Get to the good stuff already! You want me to meet someone? Who’s the lucky lady? Is M-i-r-e-l-l-e back in

town? Zef: No. We broke up. Dan: Sorry, brother. Why didn’t you tell me? Zef: It wasn’t a big deal. And the woman I’m talking about is S-a-r-a. She’s special. It’s new. Dan: Okay. Do I get to meet her, or do you keep her busy in the bedroom? Zef: Dickhead. Dan: You’re welcome. So, I got some news, too. Me and L-i-s have decided to make it official. We’re getting married. My hands dropped to my sides and I was so stunned, I started speaking again. “You’re getting hitched? Wow, that’s . . . congratulations, man! Jeez, my little brother, all grown up and about to become a married man. Fuck, that sounds . . . I’m really happy for you, man. You and Lisanne are good together. Although I have no idea how she puts up with your obnoxious ass.” “My ass has its own Facebook page.” That was true. My younger brother was a handsome bastard and had even been approached to do some modeling. Since he’d done a Calvin Klein underwear ad, I had to close my eyes every time I saw his package blown up on the side of a ten-story building. These days, he was as well known for that as for his skill on the field, or the fact that he was the only the second deaf man to

make it to the NFL. Pretty damn amazing. “We’ve set the date for September 8th and you’ve got to be there. All of you have to be there.” My eyebrows shot upward. “That’s next week?! At the beginning of the season! Your coach is going to let you take the time off?” “Yeah, a whole two days,” and he rolled his eyes. “It’s the only way to keep it low key. Fuckin’ paps.” I had to smile at that—my little brother was becoming a favorite of the photographers who followed the celebrities, even though there was no scandal to find. I guess they liked the fact that he was engaged to an up-and-coming rock ‘n’ roll chick. Good thing he hadn’t been famous when he’d met Lisanne six years ago because she’d looked more like your idea of the average librarian in those days. “And I want you to be my Best Man.” My smile fell and I looked away for a second. “Look, I appreciate that, Dan, more than you know, but it’s not a good idea. “Why the hell not?” “Someone like you needs . . .” “Someone like me? What the fuck does that mean?” “Someone famous. Someone who shouldn’t

have a guy like me for a brother or a Best Man.” “You’re talking in fucking riddles! A guy like you—you’re my damn brother!” I raised my hands in frustration. “Because I’m an ex-con, an addict who can’t even risk taking a freakin’ aspirin. I’m not anyone’s idea of a Best Man.” Daniel’s eyebrows drew together and his body filled with tension. He was angry. “Bullshit! That’s such fucking bullshit, Zef! You drove more than 300 miles through the night so you could be the one to tell me that Mom and Dad had gotten into a car accident and been killed. You took on a screwed up sixteen year-old kid. Most guys would have stuck my ass in a foster home, but you didn’t. You took care of me.” “Yeah, I did a great job,” I mocked. “I spent your college fund on booze, chicks and drugs. Got you arrested. Got the house trashed. Risked your life. Yeah, I was a great big brother.” “Is that what you think? You were 22 and had to give up your whole life. You gave up on your degree so you could earn a living for both of us. I know you helped pay for the deaf school. You never got to grieve because you had to take care of me. And when I first started to lose my hearing, you stood by me. You even learned sign language to help me.” I nodded and smiled a little.

“Only because Mom was so shit at it.” Daniel grinned. “Yeah. She never did get half the letters right, always mixing them up.” His smile fell. “You didn’t. You worked at it. You remember it even now. Zef, you’re my brother and I love you. I want you to stand up with me. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” My chest felt tight. “If that’s how you feel . . .” “It is.” “And Lisanne is okay with it?” “She told me not to come back until you agreed.” I shook my head, smiling. “Then yeah, I’d be honored to stand up with you, Dan.” I held out my hand and Dan shook it then hugged me tightly again. Family. Nothing mattered like family. Either the one you’re born with, or the ones you make. “Well, I guess you’d better meet Sara then, because she’ll be coming with me.” Dan’s face split with a grin. “Lead me to her. I’m always ready to meet a pretty girl.” “Don’t let Lisanne hear you say that.” “Ah, she loves me. And I love it when she tries to educate my ass.”

“Lifetime task, little brother.” “Yeah, definitely. A lifetime.” Happiness radiated from him, and I could see the deep contentment inside. Life had given him a shitty hand, but he’d pushed forward, never looking back. I was proud of him.

Sara Daniel didn’t like me. I was so excited to meet Zef’s famous little brother, but the moment he set his eyes on me, I could see the dislike hidden behind his polite smile. Either Zef didn’t notice or was ignoring it, and that was upsetting. I knew that it wasn’t anything that I’d said, because I hadn’t gotten much further than ‘hello’. So it must be the fact that I was obviously pregnant. I could see it from his point of view. Some knocked up chick had her claws into his brother, even though another guy was the father. I knew how it looked. I knew. Tears pricked my eyes as Zef stood next to me holding my hand. Family was so important to him. He had his carnie family, but Daniel was his flesh and blood. I couldn’t compete with that. So I stood by his side, trying to smile when I felt like falling apart inside. I saw Daniel’s eyes widen as Zef pulled me closer and reached down absentmindedly to stroke my stomach. I was hoping that Daniel wouldn’t say anything, but he did.

“Something you want to tell me, big brother? Am I getting three for the price of two at my wedding?” Zef gave an easy laugh. “Nah, you’re good. Sara’s baby isn’t due until January.” He said it so easily, so proudly: Sara’s baby. At that moment, with Zef holding my hand, I felt incredibly alone. “You know what, I’m really tired,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll just let you guys catch up a while.” Zef was immediately concerned. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” “No, I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a long day. Visit with your brother. Just . . . don’t worry about our date—we can do it another time.” Zef’s eyes lit up, and I felt guilty and pleased that he was so happy to think about taking me on a date. I’d felt awkward saying it in front of his brother whose disapproving looks had left me feeling queasy. Was I such a bad person to want Zef even though another man had fathered my child? Was I so awful? I walked back to the RV trying not to cry.

Zef Daniel gave me a tight smile as I watched Sara walk away. “So, I’m guessing you’re not the father since you said this was new.” It wasn’t a question. “No.” “Isn’t that a problem for you?” I raised an eyebrow. “Nope. The father isn’t around.” “I see that. She moved on pretty fast.” I felt my temper start to ignite. “You don’t know anything about her, Dan. Tread carefully.” Dan looked surprised and angry, and for a moment I thought we were going to have a problem, but then he shrugged and gave an easy smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, brother.” I decided that he just needed some time to get to know Sara. It didn’t help that she’d caught his vibes and hightailed it back to the RV. But I’d have some time to talk about it with Sara tomorrow. We stood in front of the massive bonfire that we’d built earlier this morning. Kes ignored all the health and safety bullshit as Zach looked on, shaking his head. But then Zach grinned in defeat and started helping. When Kes had set it alight, breathing fire from

a massive torch, the bonfire was over six feet high. It was burning brightly, red and yellow flames licking at the dark sky. Ollo came and sat down between me and Dan and passed on his congratulations. “You’re invited, Ollo,” Dan said easily, turning to read his lips. “I gotta count on you to make sure Zef buys us a decent wedding gift.” Ollo gave a lopsided grin and shook his face. “Nah, thanks all the same. I’ll stay here with Bo. Someone’s gotta look after the place. Bunch of grifters, carnies.” Dan glanced at him in surprise, then turned to me, but I gave him a look and shook my head. He caught the hint, but wasn’t backing down. “Ollo, dude. You think I don’t know, that I don’t get it? You think there are times when I know that I’ve missed the joke or realize that someone’s been razzing on me or making me the butt of a joke? I know what it’s like.” Ollo nodded slowly. “Sure, and I appreciate it. But you can pass.” We both looked down. Dan had a disability and it had changed his life, but he could pass for what people called normal. Ollo couldn’t. It was an old argument, so we let it alone. Dan went back to his hotel where the rest of the team was staying and I headed for Sara’s room. I hadn’t been invited, but I didn’t want to wait

until tomorrow to talk to her. I knocked on her door lightly and opened it. I could tell that she wasn’t asleep although I think she’d have liked me to believe it. She was resting on her side, her arms cradling her stomach. “How you doin’, baby mama?” She shrugged one, narrow shoulder. “Today kinda sucked.” I sat on the bed next to her, close but not touching. I stroked her shoulder, enjoying being able to reach out and touch her at last, relishing the feel of tan, satiny skin as I brushed my work-roughened fingers along her arm. “I’ve been hanging with Madam Sylva,” I said quietly. “So I’m bettin’ I can read your mind and guess your answer to my next question.” She gave a quiet giggle. “Read away! I’m so tired, my mind is a blank page right now.” I carried on stroking her skin, watching tiny shivers send goosebumps across her arm. “You seemed upset earlier at the bonfire, but I’m guessing that when I ask you how you really are, you’ll say that you’re fine. Am I right?” She sucked in a sharp breath. “That . . . that’s cheating!” “What’s wrong, Sara?” There was a long pause, and next door I could

hear Kes and Aimee’s murmured voices as they settled in for the night. Tucker always stayed at Tera’s when were in Pomona. “I don’t think your brother likes me,” she said at last, her voice soft as air. “He doesn’t know you.” “No, that’s what I mean. He just looked at Peanut and decided that I was . . . I was . . .” “Ssh, he doesn’t think that.” She huffed out an unhappy laugh. “I’m pretty sure he does.” I sighed, knowing that she was right. “He’ll get over it.” “Will he? Because I’m not so sure. He just sees a skank who got knocked up and has gotten her claws into his big brother!” Her body was full of tension, so I crawled alongside her on the bed and pulled her into my arms. “He’s looking out for me,” I whispered into her hair. “That’s all. When he sees how amazing you are, he’ll change his mind. Or maybe I’ll kick his ass. Whichever comes first.” She was silent for a few more seconds. “He’s your family. He’s important.” “Yeah, and you’re my family, too. You and Peanut.” She gave a little hiccupping sob, but she didn’t cry.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and it was good. I woke up once to find that Bo had climbed into bed with us and was curled up between us on the pillow.

When I opened my eyes the next day, I felt more rested than I had for weeks. We were both fully dressed and enjoyed a few precious moments of holding each other before the day began. “I owe you a date,” I said, gently pushing her hair out of her eyes. “A VIP box at a big football game qualifies,” she smiled. “I had something a little more private in mind.” She blushed and looked down. “I didn’t mean . . .” She shook her head quickly. “I want to, Zef, but . . .” I kissed her forehead and reluctantly rolled out of bed. “When you’re ready, baby mama.” We’d canceled our Thursday evening show so we could drive the twenty-something miles to the stadium at Hollywood Park where Dan was playing

in his pre-season game against the Los Angeles Chargers. Since we couldn’t all squeeze in Zach’s truck, I decided to do it big and arranged for a limo service to take us. Not that Ollo was coming, of course. “Wowee!” laughed Tucker. “Who are you tryin’ to impress, or is that a dumb question, Zef?” “All your questions are dumb,” I answered evenly. “You walked right into that, mothertucker,” Kes said comfortably. “They’re mean ‘cause I’m so damn funny,” Tucker whined, looking to Tera for support. She patted his arm. “Darling, you keep telling yourself that.” Zach laughed loudly and Luke just grinned. There was a bar in the back of the limo and I’d ordered a bottle of champagne to be put on ice, and various sodas for the pregnant and abstainers. Tucker had one glass of champagne and Tera had about three, which made her pretty damn funny; Luke and Zach shared the rest. Kes never drank alcohol, and I was keeping dry, but Sara was eyeing the champagne longingly. “Just a sip?” she pleaded. “Nope, not even a sip,” I said, passing her a 7 Up. “Alcohol crosses from your bloodstream through the placenta directly into Peanut’s blood.” Seven sets of eyes turned to stare at me, and

even the driver was pretending not to watch through his rearview mirror. “What? I read it online,” I said defensively. “Anyway, she’s not old enough to drink.” Tucker shook his head, grinning, and pulled Tera closer. Kes just looked annoyed. “You’re making me look bad,” he hissed, flicking the side of my head. Sara held my hand tightly and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. I nodded and looked out of the window. Why everyone was making such a big deal about it, I had no freakin’ clue. As we arrived at the stadium, streams of people were heading toward the long lines waiting to enter, and the vast parking lots glittered with thousands of cars parked in rows. Dan had arranged for us to use the VIP entrance, so we had no trouble getting in. We were led up through the long tunnels to a luxury suite overlooking the jewel green field and the best seats in the house. As well as a bar, there were wait staff wearing white shirts and bow ties to ready to get us anything we needed. There were family members from other players, as well, and I knew a couple of them. I felt a little edgy around people from Georgia. Although Dan

and I were from Savannah, I’d done a few drug deals in Atlanta back in the day, and I always aware that I could run into a former client, which would be awkward in so many ways. I told myself that I looked a lot different since I’d grown the beard, but still, I searched faces for any flicker of recognition. When I found none—other than football connections—I relaxed. I thought Sara might feel overwhelmed, but she shone with happiness, bouncing around the room and talking to everyone as if she was on a sugar rush. But she wasn’t—it was all her. It was good to see her so light. Lisanne was there looking far more indie chick then when I’d first met her. She’d dyed her mousy brown hair in red and blonde streaks, and was rocking leather pants and a Number Two shirt with ‘Colton’ on it. She wasn’t my biggest fan which was my fault, but she was really sweet to Sara, and I was grateful for that. We watched Dan setting the field alight and cheered ourselves hoarse. When he scored the winning touchdown, we were escorted several flights down to the field, yelling with the rest of the fans. There were TV cameras at the sideline and several reporters, along with Pam Oliver for Fox. She recognized me from the previous times we’d

met at games and came over to chat. She was a big Falcons fan, being from Atlanta, although completely impartial when she was doing her sideline reporting. “Your brother is going to have an amazing season if he can hold that form,” she confided to me. “Play-offs and more—he could go all the way.” “Of course he could. He’s a Colton.” She laughed easily and I introduced her to Kes and the others. She knew all about the Daredevils, although I shouldn’t have been surprised—she took her research very seriously. “Any plans for trying to take back your World Record?” she asked Kes with interest. Aimee looked tense as Kes shrugged. “I haven’t decided. Robbie Maddison’s 346 feet jump is pretty awesome, but I heard that Alex Harvill is going to try and top 400, maybe even 425.” “You’re not tempted to try?” I could see the gleam of challenge in Kes’s eyes, but then he glanced at Aimee’s pale face. “No, ma’am. I’m going to be a father in a few months. My wife would kick my ass if I broke my back again.” Pam chuckled. “That’s a shame. I would have paid good money to see you regain the title. What about the rest of you? Well, obviously not you, Zef, as it

looks as though another little Daredevil will be making an appearance soon,” and she smiled at Sara. Sara flushed beet red and looked miserable. I slung my arm around her and pulled her in tightly. “That’s right. I have other responsibilities now.” Pam smiled and carried on chatting with the others. “It’s okay, baby mama,” I whispered to Sara. “How is it okay? How are you okay with any of it?” she asked unhappily. “Because one day I’m going to be this kid’s father.” Her mouth dropped open, astonishment and confusion warring with pleasure on her face. I could see that she had a ton more questions behind those perfect pink lips, so I kissed her instead. It worked. And crazy as it may have seemed, I’d started to think of Peanut as my kid. I’d been around him for all but the first eight weeks of his young life. I’d cared for Sara and looked out for her, and I was with her in every possible way. Just then Dan shook himself free of his fans and came loping across the field, all eyes were on him as we cheered, clapped and yelled. I smiled to myself when he ignored everyone and swept Lisanne into a kiss that made her breathless,

plastering his sweaty body against her much smaller one. My little brother had moves. I knew how he was feeling—the adrenaline of scoring, the rush of winning, the feeling that your insides were on fire, all poured into wanting to screw the brains out of your woman. Yeah, I definitely knew that feeling. Pam edged in next to him as they came up for air and started her interview. She’d obviously forgotten that he was deaf, because she began talking before he was facing her and he wasn’t wearing his cochlear implant. When she realized her mistake, she quickly apologized. He gave her his trademark smirk, the one that wet women’s panties regularly, even though only one woman warmed his bed these days. It made me realize how similar we were: how he’d been before he met Lisanne, never spending more than one night with a woman in case they despised him for being deaf; but he’d changed so much, and I just hoped that my relationship with Sara would be as good as the one he had with Lisanne. Although I reckon we’d jumped a few steps along the way seeing as Peanut would be making an appearance in January. It occurred to me that Dan didn’t know about the old friend I’d run into a couple of months back, and I knew I should tell him. Just in case.

As the team left the field, we went back to the suite and the party was on. We stayed until Sara was falling asleep on a couch and Aimee’s eyelids were drooping. Tucker and Tera had disappeared for thirty minutes only to reappear grinning and disheveled. It wasn’t easy to pry Dan away from his fans for a moment, especially with Lisanne clamped to his side, but I managed it a couple of hours later. “What’s up?” Dan asked, puzzled. I switched to sign language. Zef: I forgot to tell you last night. But I ran into Roy up in Washington state. Dan: I bet that didn’t go well. Zef: No, he was pretty pissed at me. Things were getting ugly but Ollo and the guys helped out. Otherwise I’d be missing a few teeth now, and probably not be walking or talking. Dan: That bad? Zef: When I testified to get my sentence reduced, it put him in the shit with some bad people. He wasn’t happy. Dan turned to look for Lisanne, his worried eyes scanning the room until he found her. Zef: He’s got no reason to come after you, either of you, but just watch your back. “Everything okay? You guys are being all serious.” Lisanne hooked her arm around Dan’s waist,

leaning into him. “Nah, we’re good,” Dan lied easily. “Just talking about Best Man duties.” We chatted for a little longer, then I hugged Dan and Lisanne and promised we’d fly out in time for the wedding. “I’m so excited for you, Zef,” said Lisanne earnestly. “You’ll make a great dad.” I couldn’t help noticing the disapproval on Dan’s face, and that cut me.

We spent a second night together, just holding each other. Those early mornings settled into my soul so softly, so quietly, I didn’t even hear it happening. It was hard to believe that I used to hate mornings, back when it just meant another twenty-four hours where I’d fail or fuck up. Now, they were becoming my favorite part of the day. All the noise in my head, all the questions were silenced. Half in this world, half asleep, my mind roamed freely. I could feel the weight of Sara’s head on my arm, preferring it to a pillow. Yesterday, I woke with her sweet ass pressed against my ready cock, but today she was facing me, our legs tangled and her growing belly filling the space between us. In these silent moments, I whispered to Peanut without feeling like a fool. Just him and me, shooting the breeze. So far, it was a fairly one-sided conversation, but sometimes he’d join in, and I’d see a miniature hand or tiny foot pressing against Sara’s stomach. The former me would have found that creepy, having watched too many Alien movies, but I

wasn’t that man anymore. He was still there, but these days he kept to the shadows where he belonged, and I was glad about that. Sara seemed certain that the baby was going to be a boy—a certainty born of some sort of female intuition, perhaps. I didn’t care which it was going be because I already loved the kid. But I talked to Peanut as if he were a boy. And it was growing harder to remember that I wasn’t the one who’d gotten Sara in the family way. My forehead creased with worry, thinking again about Dan’s reaction, and I knew that other people would be the same, coming to those uninformed conclusions like my little brother. It was no one’s business except ours. We hadn’t defined our relationship and I had no idea what label we’d put on it if we did. We were more than friends, not quite lovers; friends with fringe benefits? Was that a ‘thing’? I did know that I was prepared to take it at any pace she wanted. The trouble was, Sara herself had no idea what she wanted. She seemed scared to move forward. I didn’t know if it was because she was still hung up on ‘not deserving’ me. If it wasn’t so fucking sad, I’d laugh. So I didn’t try to explain to myself or anyone else what we had: I just knew that it was special. But Fate is a tricky bitch, and she seemed to think that my run of good luck had gone on long

enough. I woke early, not long after sunrise, and let the light filter across my eyelids. I was smiling. It was already becoming familiar and highly addictive. Sara was still sleeping deeply, her pink lips open, wisps of hair hanging across her damp forehead. I reached out to touch her cheek, but hesitated. She worried about so many things, so worried all the time. It made me happy to see her peaceful and untroubled. My fingers trembled with the desire to touch her, my body already alive with want. I cursed softly when my cell phone vibrated on the small bedside table next to me. I scooped it up quickly, hoping it hadn’t disturbed her. One small hand curled like a paw as she yawned, and I held my breath. But her eyes didn’t open. I slipped out of the room silently, taking Zach’s call in the bathroom. “What up, Zach? Why the early morning wakeup?” “Man, I’m sorry, but I got a call from a security guard at the performers’ entrance.” He paused and I could hear the concern in his voice. “It’s Sara’s family. They’re here.” And suddenly I was standing at the edge of a cliff, peering over at waves crashing over the rocks below, my mind thrashing with fear, knowing that

one misstep would end me. “Zef, did you hear me? Sara’s family are on their way over with an escort.” A shot of terror zinged through my body and my heart stumbled for a second. “How the fuck did they get on the lot? Why didn’t security hold them?” “I don’t know, but you’d better hurry.” And then I knew why, because Liam was with them. And Liam was a Sheriff. “Thanks, Zach.” I strode back into our room, no longer caring to be quiet, and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt from the pile on the floor. “Why are you up so early?” Sara yawned, stretching her arms above her head, full of dreamedged sleep. “Your parents are here with Liam,” I snapped as I reached for my boots. She fell back against the pillows, her face drained of blood and she suddenly looked scared and very young. Guilt boiled through me. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m sorry, baby mama, but they’re on their way right now. You don’t have to see them if you don’t want. Just say the word and I’ll kick them the fuck out.” She seemed dazed, as if my words weren’t

sinking in. “No,” she said at last. “No, I should see them. But . . . will you stay with me? I don’t know if I’m strong enough . . .” “You’re strong enough, Sara. More than you know. But I promise I won’t leave you. I’ll stay until you tell me to go. Always.” She gave me a grateful smile, but her lips trembled and her hands shook. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll be with you. Now go take a shower and wear one of your new dresses. Take your time. I’ll deal with them until you’re ready.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I can do this.” Her voice sounded uncertain but I forced a confident smile. “Sure you can.” I jumped out of the RV just as one of the golf carts that security used to get around the massive fairground complex drove up. Next to the driver was a guy with thick dark hair and I decided he must be the asshole Liam. He wasn’t in uniform, but he had a familiar air of power and arrogance combined that immediately raised my hackles. Behind him was a thin man wearing glasses, two women, one of whom looked a little like Sara, and a kid about the same age as her. I was surprised to see so many of them and I

wondered if Liam had come clean or whether he’d come with the Weiss’s to protect his own interests —and his dirty little secret. I stood with my arms folded, face shaded by the canopy that we used to give us a sheltered outdoor area. The young security guard climbed out of the golf cart and approached me, speaking rapidly, obviously uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Colton, but these folks insisted. I know it’s real early . . .” His words tailed off and I felt sorry for him. He was just a kid, probably working his way through college. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit. I nodded and watched as he spoke briefly to his passengers. They were eyeing me warily and seemed reluctant to leave the relative safety of the golf cart. While they watched me, I watched Liam. He seemed to be trying to persuade the young security guard to leave them with the golf cart, and the poor guy was shaking his head and throwing worried looks toward the direction of the security office next to the performers’ entrance and then at me. I waited, wondering who’d be the first to speak, watching the sideshow, their voices too low for me to catch, and calculated how much time I had before Sara came out.

I wished I could deal with this for her, but I knew that wouldn’t do her any good in the long run —she needed to show them that she wasn’t a kid and that she knew what she wanted. There seemed to be some sort of tense stand-off before the security guard shook his head with finality and climbed back in the golf cart, driving away with puffs of dust spinning up from the small wheels. Liam’s face twisted in fury and then he threw me a calculating, evaluating look as he walked over, leaving the others standing behind awkwardly. “Mr. Colton? Joseph Colton?” he asked, extending his hand. I ignored his greeting and continued staring at him. “My name is . . .” “I know who you are, Liam. I know what you are.” Surprise flickered behind his eyes but he hid it quickly. “Then you’ll know that I’m very good friends with Sara’s family. We’ve all been very concerned about her.” I cut through his bullshit and took a step forward into his personal space, speaking quietly. “So concerned that you’ve been harassing her by calling her cell phone all of the time. Telling her to get rid of the baby?”

He breathed out through his nose, his nostrils flaring with anger. “I’m assuming it was you on the phone that night?” I didn’t answer and his eyes narrowed. “I know all about you Joseph Connor Colton. Thirty-two years of age; did two years in Georgia State Pen for drug dealing; plea-bargained your way out of there; now working as circus act.” I smiled thinly. “None of that’s a secret, but I don’t think anyone would say the same about you. Taking advantage of a seventeen year-old girl, your son’s girlfriend, when she was drunk and vulnerable. First time was the back of your cop car.” He blanched and his eyes flickered, but he shook his head as if disappointed. “The sad stories of a disturbed child. I was afraid of this.” I leaned even closer until our noses were almost touching and I could smell his sour breath. “I know you’re afraid. I can smell the stink of it on you. You’re so afraid that Sara is going to tell your wife and son what’s been going on.” “No one will believe the little slut,” he hissed. “It’s all in her head.” I grabbed the front of his shirt ready to hit him, but Sara called out behind me. “Zef, no!”

I paused, my fist clenched, then gave him a little push so he stumbled, his eyes dark with fury. “I’ll have you arrested for that! Assault on an officer of the law!” “I don’t think so, Liam. You’ve got too much to lose.” His lips pressed together, fury raging behind his eyes. Sara’s voice was soft but I was surprised to hear the quiet confidence in her voice when she spoke. “Leave him alone, Liam.” Then, taking a wide circle around me, her mother hurried over. “Sara, darling! I’ve been so worried!” She hugged Sara stiffly. Sara’s arms hung at her sides until she raised them slowly, loosely circling her mother’s waist. It looked like a performance rather than true affection. Then Sara’s father walked over and pulled her into his arms, tears in his eyes. “Why did you leave, sweetheart? I know you were upset, but we would have supported you. We will support you.” “I had to, Dad.” “But why? Why didn’t you return our calls? We would have come for you, you know that! We had to see you on TV standing next to Pam Oliver! Once we had a clue, Liam worked day and night to

find you for us. Oh, honey.” He held her locked in his arms, and Sara let him, just the two of them standing together. Then he kissed her forehead and reluctantly turned to me. “Mr. Colton, I’m Nathan Weiss, Sara’s father. I’d like to thank you for looking after our little girl.” He held out his hand and I shook it dubiously, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “This is my wife, Norah; and these are our good friends Liam and Tilly Cooper. And this young man is their son, Owen, Sara’s boyfriend and, um, the baby’s father.” I nodded at the rest of them and then turned to Sara. She gave a weak smile but I noticed that she didn’t acknowledge the others beyond a quick glance at Owen who was scowling at the ground, his hands shoved in his pockets. We all sat in the picnic chairs, Sara’s mom fussing about, swiping at the surface with a tissue, before Sara jumped up and said she’d make coffee. Normally I’d have done it for her, but I wasn’t leaving her alone with these assholes, not even for a second. I’d promised her and I intended to keep my word. Sara’s father turned to me again. “Would you mind if we talked to Sara alone before we take her home. We’ve come a long way

to see her.” He gave me a friendly smile, but I wasn’t feeling friendly. “Yeah, I mind,” I said roughly. He blinked, surprised, and glanced at his wife nervously before trying again as if I hadn’t understood plain English. “This is a very delicate situation and Sara is a confused young girl. We really need to . . .” I cut him off. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you need, any of you. Sara is a grown woman and she makes her own decisions.” His face turned red. “I don’t know what your relationship is with my daughter,” he huffed. “No, you don’t,” I said coldly. “But I know about you. All of you.” Sara’s mother appraised me coolly, sneering down her nose as she took in my ripped jeans and faded t-shirt, the tattoos on my arms, and the cracked leather boots on my feet. I knew what she saw, and I didn’t give a shit. “You can’t believe everything she’s told you,” she said with a sharp voice. “It’s simply her flair for the dramatic.” I turned my head slowly to look at her, taking in the pressed linen suit, perfect makeup and cold expression.

“Well, that’s where you and I differ, Mrs. Weiss. I believe everything Sara has told me.” They were silent, staring at me with a mixture of surprise and indignation. I stood up in time to take the heavy tray of coffee from Sara’s hands as she reappeared in the RV’s doorway. Then I helped her down and she sat next to me, clinging to my hand, her face pale and strained. They all stared at our joined hands and I stared back. No one touched the coffee. “Sara, we want you to come home.” Her father spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. “I’m happy here.” “But . . . I don’t understand.” “I know you don’t, Dad, but I really am happy here. I can breathe.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her mother’s words were tight and angry, but Sara answered patiently. “It means, Mom, that at home all of you were telling me what to do, making decisions for me. It was too much.” “We were helping you! Is that against the law now for me to help my own daughter?” “Mom! You made an appointment for an abortion at the clinic without even asking me if that’s what I wanted!”

“Because you’ve only just graduated high school and an unwanted child will ruin your life. And Owen’s. Of course it’s what you want.” Tears glistened in Sara’s eyes and I squeezed her hand more tightly. “He’s not unwanted,” she said, her voice a whisper. “What?” “He’s not unwanted.” She looked up and met her mother’s angry eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, Sara.” “I’m not! I’ve listened to his heartbeat, felt him kick. It’s the most amazing feeling in the whole world. Don’t you remember, Mom? Is that how you felt when you were carrying me?” For a moment her mother’s expression softened, then the diamond-hard shield was back in place. “I was a college graduate, married with my own house and a husband who who made good money. You’re single, homeless and jobless. There’s no comparison. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.” I could see Sara’s resolve draining away with every cut of her mother’s cruel words. “You can do this, baby mama,” I whispered encouragingly, earning a small smile. Owen’s gaze shot in my direction and then he looked at Sara with confusion in his eyes.

“Are you with him now?” She bit her lip, her eyes tight with worry. I gave her fingers another squeeze. I’d have no problem kicking them all the hell out, but I also knew that Sara needed to handle this herself. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m with Zef now. He’s been very . . . kind to me.” Owen threw us both a look of disgust. “Seriously? You’re sleeping with another guy even though you’re knocked up with my kid? “Watch your mouth, boy,” I said warningly, leaning forward across the table. He bit back any further words, the tips of his ears turning red. Sara gripped my hand harder and I saw a tear trickling down her cheek. “You want to wait inside?” I asked softly. She gave me a grateful smile but shook her head, swiftly wiping away the stray tear. Perhaps Bo heard the noise or perhaps he sensed her distress, because I saw him climb out of Kes and Aimee’s window in the RV and scamper across, jumping into Sara’s lap and throwing his thin, furry arms around her neck, patting her cheek with his leathery paw. The two older women screeched and the men jerked back. Bo chattered angrily at the noise, baring his teeth.

I saw Liam reach toward his hip, clearly an automatic gesture, and I was damn glad that he was unarmed. “What on earth?” frowned her father. “This is Bo,” Sara replied simply. “He’s my friend.” Then Ollo appeared silently from the shadows, a hostile smile on his face. “I’m a friend of Sara’s too. Funny old world, isn’t it.” He turned to Sara, “Ya doin’ good, princess.” Then he sat down and glared at her parents. They stared at Bo, at Sara and at Ollo, shock, confusion and surprise warring on their faces. Liam recovered first. “Sara, you need to come home and be with your family who’ll take care of you at this troubled time and help you make the difficult choices,” Liam said in a deliberately controlled, even voice. A hundred retorts raced through my mind, but this was Sara’s show. “I told you. I’ve decided,” she said, softly but clearly. “I’m keeping my baby.” Everyone started speaking at once and Sara wrapped one hand around her bump, the other caressing Bo, but her breathing was too fast and I could tell that she was trying not to cry. “How can you be so stupid?” Her mother’s shrill voice cut through the noise,

and Bo turned his head to stare at her, black eyes unfathomable. “This will ruin Owen’s life and yours. A baby at your age—you’re a high schooler, for God’s sake!” Owen looked horrified, his eyes darting back and forwards between Sara and his parents. Liam cupped a hand to his shoulder and shook his head. “Let’s try not to get over emotional now.” He was using his authority voice, the one that said he was in control, the one that he used to shut everyone up. “I know you’re worried, Norah, but Sara needs to know that you’ll support her.” I snorted, derision obvious in my face. Violence bubbled under my skin, burning and volcanic. Rivers of heat simmered in my veins as I sat there, fury growing. Her father leaned forwards, his hand inches from hers. “Sara, what about college? What about your scholarship to Northwestern? They won’t hold it open forever.” I glanced at her, surprised. She’d never mentioned that. A sliver of unease ran through me. What else hadn’t she told me? “I have a job here,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous,” hissed her mother. “Working in a circus isn’t a real job!” Ollo interrupted her.

“I’ve lived with the traveling carnival my whole life and I’ve done okay, even got my own RV.” He gave her a broad smile, watching her mouth flap unattractively. Not knowing what to say, she returned to her attack on Sara. “You won’t have a career! You’ll be a single mother living hand to mouth, probably on welfare. Is that what you want?” “It’s not like that!” Sara shot back. “It’s a carnival and I work on the Daredevils’ publicity. I’m good at it!” “So put that as a summer job on your résumé, but don’t throw away an opportunity like Northwestern!” I glanced at Sara and her eyes flickered up guiltily. “Sara? Northwestern?” “I don’t care about that anymore!” she said her voice soft, her eyes pleading. “I just want to be here—with you!” Her mother tsk-ed loudly. “You’re behaving like a child. What about when this . . . person gets bored of you? What will you do then? Because don’t expect us to welcome you and your brat . . .” “Norah!” Sara’s father addressed his wife sharply. “Sara will always have a home with us. Always.” And he turned to her. “But your mother is

right. It sounds like everyone here has been very kind, but this isn’t a permanent solution.” I stood up, irritated to hell with the assumptions flying back and forth. “What the fuck is the matter with you people? You have a beautiful, amazing, talented daughter. She’s pregnant, she’s not dying of cancer. I’ve sat here and listened to you patronize her, belittle her and bully her, and I keep asking myself how did such assholes produce such a fantastic woman?” “How dare you talk . . .” “I dare, lady, I dare! First,” I went on, glaring at each of them, “Sara and I are together and will be as long as she’ll have my sorry ass. Second, she’s damn good at her job. Her work has gotten us a major sponsorship deal with one of the biggest names in Motocross. I’m just telling you this because you seem so certain that she’ll be a failure unless she does everything you tell her, what you think is ‘good’ for her, but you’re wrong,” and I stared down at Sara who was watching me with a stunned expression. “I happen to think that she’s a smart woman who can make up her own mind. So I don’t give a damn about any of your bullshit because I love her and I want to be her baby’s father, no matter whose DNA he has.” Sara’s mouth dropped open. “You . . . you never said any of that to me!” I grinned at her.

“Just waiting for the right moment, baby mama,” and I plucked an annoyed Bo from her lap and pulled her into a deep, satisfying kiss, releasing some of the rage that had been building inside me. As I set Sara back on her feet, no one spoke. I was vaguely aware that Kes, Aimee, Zach and Luke had appeared from the RVs, and were offering their silent support. Ollo gave me a discreet thumbs up, a broad smile on his face. I glanced around at Sara’s family, reading the river of emotions on their faces. Sara’s mother was enraged, her father concerned, Liam furious, Owen resigned, and his mother oddly blank. “Nathan! Liam! Say something to her! Tell her she’s making a terrible mistake!” Sara’s mother prodded her husband with her finger, then turned her furious eyes on the slimebag. I grinned at Liam, knowing that he didn’t dare say anything more than he already had. He’d lost this one. “She’s eighteen, Norah, she’s entitled to make her own decisions,” said Sara’s father wearily. “But I wish you’d come home with us. Please, honey!” Sara shook her head slowly. “No, Dad. I’m sorry, but I’m not coming home.” “But you and Owen could be together! Your

mother and I would help with the baby and you could still take up your scholarship.” I didn’t figure in his equation at all. Was he deaf, stupid, or had he just decided that I wasn’t son-in-law material? “Owen?” Sara turned to gaze across at her former boyfriend. “Do you love me?” He raised his eyes to hers, sadness blooming in his gaze. “Ah, jeez, Sara. I’m sorry. I think you’re great . . . but I don’t love you.” She nodded, clearly having expected that answer. I had to give the kid props for not lying. “And you don’t love me either, do you?” he went on. Sara shook her head. “Thought not,” he sighed. Sara glanced at Liam who was looking sicker and angrier as all his power was stripped away. “I thought you were smarter than this, Sara,” he said, fury leaking out with every word, making him careless. “But by mistakenly continuing with this pregnancy, you’re selfishly ruining Owen’s life. He’s going places. In a few years he’ll be playing professional baseball. He doesn’t need to be tied down to a girl like you!” Sara’s head whipped up, and she sprang to her feet like a lioness, eyes blazing. “A girl like me? A girl like me! And what is that

exactly?” He stared back, half contemptuous, half afraid. “Come on, Liam, you can say it,” she goaded. “We’re all friends here. What kind of girl am I? I dated your son for two years. Two years! And yet he was the one screwing anything that crossed his path. Playing the field, is that what you call it? You said he was a fool to mess around on a girl like me! You said any man would be a fool! You said I was smart and pretty. So what kind of girl am I, Liam?” “You’re making a fool of yourself now,” he scowled, his voice becoming strained. But she didn’t stop, and inside I was cheering her on. “I’m a fool? Well, now that I think about it, I agree with you, Liam. I’m a fool because I trusted you when you said those things to me, and I trusted you when you fucked me in the back of your police car, when you spread me on the desk in your home office, and when you took me in Owen’s bed and you laughed and said you should teach him some moves. So what kind of girl am I?!” She was amazing, spectacular. She stood with her hands held in front of her as if she could conjure righteous flames to burn his words from his mouth, panting, eyes shooting fire. Aimee gasped and Kes gave an ironic round of applause. “What?” Sara’s mother screeched, her voice

shrill. “Why are you saying these awful lies?” “Thank you for the vote of confidence, mother,” Sara said bitterly, turning her glare on her parents. “But it’s the truth. Liam and I were having sex for a while before I left home.” The Sheriff’s wife let out a loud sob, holding trembling hands to her mouth, shock in her eyes. Sara’s shoulders sagged and I pulled her against me. “She’s not lying,” I said calmly. “Liam has been phoning her, hassling her, demanding that she get an abortion . . . because he’s worried that he might be the father and not Owen.” Tears ran down Sara’s cheeks, the wave of emotion crashing over her. “Dad, is this true?” Owen’s voice cracked as he whispered the question. “Of course it’s not true,” Liam said, straining to stay calm. “The girl is delusional. She has a schoolgirl crush on me. She always has. I had to tell her that she couldn’t keep phoning me the way she did.” His lies were plausible, and I could see the doubt on their faces. “You’re such a fucking asshole,” I snarled, standing in front of him. “I warned you! You had your chance. The truth is that you took advantage of a seventeen year-old girl when she was drunk, your son’s girlfriend. You’re a piece of shit human

being and you don’t deserve her! And now they all know it, too!” He laughed coldly. “Wow, she’s really got you convinced, hasn’t she, son? I feel sorry for you. But you’re not the only one who fell for her act. But I think we know the real con-artist here. You’re 32 and spent two years in a State Penitentiary. You’re the one who took advantage of a confused kid, a runaway; pretending that you’re going to take care of her. Sure, you took her in so she could warm your bed for a few weeks, a nice young bit of tail, a clean girl from a good home. Must make a change from midgets and freaks. You’ll soon drag her down to your level. Or you’ll change your tune when someone else’s brat is screaming and shitting in the trailer you call a home.” I pushed Sara into Aimee’s arms and started to take a swing at him. Kes held me back, whispering in my ear. “He’s hanging himself, brother. Let him talk.” “I was nice to the kid because she was Owen’s girl, but now she’s making it all up to hurt us. She’s not right in the head.” “You have a mole on your left thigh shaped like a leaf.” Sara’s voice whipped through the air. Mrs. Cooper shuddered, her eyes wide and frightened.

“You could have seen that any time you were over at our pool,” he defended quickly. “And when we had sex, you held my hands so I couldn’t touch you, and your left eye closes when you come.” Mrs. Cooper burst into tears and Owen put his arm around his mother, staring with hurt and bewilderment at his father. “She’s lying,” Liam said again, his voice weaker now. Sara shrugged her shoulders. She looked exhausted and I wrapped my arms around her, giving her my support. “It doesn’t matter,” she said tiredly. “We’ll just do a paternity test when the baby is born.” Liam opened and closed his mouth several times. “She’s lying! Can’t you see she’s lying? For God’s sake!” When no one answered, he turned and marched away across the lot. “Is it true, Sara?” Her father’s voice was bleak. “Yes, all of it.” She paused and looked up. “I’m sorry. Owen, I . . .” He shot her a venomous look and wrapped his arms around his sobbing mother. Zach spoke into his cell, and soon after a golf cart with security came bouncing across the lot to

escort them from the fairground. Sara was sitting slumped in a chair, her hands shielding her eyes. Her father came to stand in front of her, frowning up at me as I stood in silence, protecting what was mine. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell anyone?” “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice. “I was scared.” “Oh, Sara!” and I saw him wipe away a tear. “You could have told me, sweetheart. You can tell me anything.” She sniffed, but didn’t look up. “Do you really want to stay with him, this man?” “Yes,” she whispered. “I love him.” Pleasure burst inside me, my chest swelling with gratitude and love, so much love. Her father gripped her hand in his, pulling it from her reddened eyes so he could see the truth of her words, so she could see the love in his. “You will always have a home with us, Sara, do you hear me? Always.” Then he kissed the top of her head and passed her hand to me. “Look after her.” “I will.” He nodded, and with a last look, climbed into the golf cart. Her mother didn’t look at her or say a

word as they drove away. “It’s all over, baby,” I said, holding her in my arms. “They’ve gone. It’s all over. You were amazing, you are amazing, and you’re going to be a fantastic mom. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.” “I meant it when I said that I loved you,” she whispered. “I know, baby mama. I know and I love you, too.” So even though I didn’t get to beat the shit out of the lying bastard sheriff, or kick his entitled son in the ass, it wasn’t the worst start to the day that I’d ever had.

It had been an emotional couple of days for Sara after her parents and Liam showed up at the carnival. We spent the rest of the morning in bed, just holding each other, talking a little, but mostly enjoying the stillness. Sara said she wasn’t hungry, but when I persuaded her to join me for a walk along the midway, she changed her mind. I smiled when she ate a corndog coated with a thick layer of batter, followed by funnel cake covered in powdered sugar, and I laughed when she tried to eat strawberry flavored cotton candy and it got in caught in her hair. It was a lot of junk, but Aimee would make sure she’d get her fruit and vegetables in another meal. This was about letting go. I held her and reassured her and told her every chance I got that I cared about her, that I loved her. The words felt odd but comfortable at the same time—I guess that summed up our whole left-field relationship. And she’d believe me eventually, I was confident of that. But her meeting with Liam and her parents had

left her shaken, and I knew that she felt guilty about Owen and his mom. I’m not a man who believes in truth for the sake of the truth. Because the truth can hurt people without changing anything, without making anything better. But in this case, not speaking up was going to let a predator get away with it. I thought it was the right thing to do—the only thing to do. And it was the only way that her parents would understand the decision she’d made to leave. After she’d finished stuffing herself with junk, I bought her a bottle of fresh orange juice, figuring she could use something healthy. We walked past the largest of the carousels, the red and gold paint gleaming in the sunshine, the prancing horses frozen in time as if they’d just been photographed putting a winning nose over the finishing line. All of the horses were white with colorful bridles, but there was one lone lion, his mouth open in a roar, his white fangs and pink tongue a contrast to the horses. “He looks annoyed,” said Sara, taking a quick picture. “Sure! He’s the King of the Jungle, and now he’s got a pole through his butt and has to travel in circles all day. He’s probably pissed and dizzy.” Sara giggled. “You’re such a goof, Zef! I never knew that about you.”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Truth is, I’m not much of a joker; I leave that to Tucker. But something about Sara brought out a new, light-hearted side of me. I was surprised to find I was comfortable with that. I shrugged and grinned at her. “Wanna take a ride?” She started to laugh. “Seriously? You want to go for a ride on the kiddie carousel? You know it doesn’t go fast, right?” “Yeah, sure. So long as I can ride the lion.” “Oh no way, buster! I want to ride the lion.” “Uh huh, that dude is mine. You can have one of the horses.” “Oh my God, seriously? You won’t let me ride the lion?” I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Baby mama, you can ride the beast any time you want.” She blushed bright red and slapped my arm. “You’re such a perv!” “Can’t help it—you’re hot.” Jude was the ride jock for the carousel and raised a pierced eyebrow when I said that Sara and I were taking a ride. He nodded, grinning over my shoulder as Sara climbed up on the lion’s back. Nope. Not happening. I strolled over, lifted her off and plopped her on

a horse. “I can’t believe you just did that!” “I’m a man of my word,” I smiled. We took three turns on that ride and Sara snapped a ton of photographs of me goofing off, and she was smiling again. Result.

By the time we packed a suitcase for Dan’s wedding, she was coming to terms with her new reality. I knew that she’d talked to her dad a couple of times and I was pleased about that. Even though she thought that she didn’t need her family, I knew that she’d want our kid to know their grandparents one day. The powers that be at Fairplex were pissed that we were canceling two days of shows on such short notice so we could fly out for Dan’s wedding. They were trying to cite breach of contract, but Zach was holding his own in that argument. It looked like I was going to be getting more use out of the tux I’d bought for Kes and Aimee’s wedding last year than I’d bargained for. The plus side was that when I tried it on at Sara’s request, she said I looked hot. It worked for me. I didn’t know what she was going to wear as it

was supposed to be a big secret, and she seemed equal parts anxious and excited to be going with me as my date. Like I’d leave her behind. I’d been back to Georgia a few times since I was released from prison, but it wasn’t my favorite place to be. At least the wedding was going to be in Atlanta and not my home town of Savannah. I’d made too many mistakes there, too many bad memories blotting out the good ones. After our flight landed at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, I turned on my phone, immediately getting a string of messages from Dan. Fuckin paps everywhere. Lis on the rampage. Holy shit! Got you rooms at the Ritz Carlton. Driver waiting for you at baggage claim. So much for it being a low key wedding. “Oh, man,” breathed Tucker, scrolling through the newsfeed on his cell. “The paps are going crazy, calling it the wedding of the year, whatever the fuck that means.” We made our way through the crowds to pick up our luggage and saw a big dude in a suit holding a sign that said, Grifter Family. “Little prick,” Kes muttered, shaking his head, a smile pulling up one side of his mouth. “Are you gonna kick your brother’s ass or do you want me to do it?” “Feel free,” I said generously.

We introduced ourselves to the dude in the suit and then got a helluva surprise when we tried to leave the airport and were jostled by paps. “What the fuck?” I yelled, as were surrounded by a growing crowd. “Are you Daniel Colton’s brother?” “Is it true that Daniel is gay and that this marriage is just a publicity stunt?” “What do you think of the rumor that he’s going to be traded to the Green Bay Packers?” “Are you going into modeling like your brother?” “Is that your wife? What’s her name? Are you going to call the baby Daniel?” I braced my arms around Sara and tugged her through the doors, seeing the rest of the Daredevils doing the same thing, wondering where the paps had gotten their dumb questions from. I knew better than to answer—they’d make up whatever they wanted anyway. It was like a feeding frenzy at the shark pool, a scene from Jaws with an all-you-can-eat buffet. Our driver, Milton, used his bulk to clear a path to the waiting limo and all but tossed us into the back seat. “Sorry about that, ladies and gentleman,” he said, seemingly unperturbed. “The news of the wedding broke while you were in the air, and there was a false rumor that your brother would be

making an appearance at the airport. The Falcons’ management didn’t have time to send backup.” “That was fucking insane! Is it like that for him all the time now?” I caught Milton’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Mr. Colton is very popular.” I shook my head, knowing how much Dan would hate all of this, and glanced down at Sara’s strained face. “You okay, baby mama?” “Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” and she gave me a brief smile. “It’s my job to look after you.” She made herself more comfortable in my arms. “And it’s my job to look after you.” “Lookin’ forward to it.” Zach glanced over at us, a grin of amusement on his face. “You guys are so cute together! I didn’t know you could be so sappy, Zef.” “Fuck off,” I said easily, not giving a damn what anyone else thought. Although Zach was right. I’d never been like this with a woman before. The surprise was that I liked it. There were more paps at the hotel and I couldn’t understand their interest in us. It was beginning to sink in what a big deal my little brother had become, but I still didn’t see what that

had to do with us. I was resigned to the fact that information about my stint in the pen was going to be very public knowledge. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something I broadcast by choice either. Four doormen tussled with the crowds outside the hotel to get us inside. At least Milton had help this time. I tipped them all well. It was the least I could do. Sara perked up at the sight of the glittering chandeliers, marble floors and huge leather couches. “Ooh, can we live here?” she teased. “I don’t think they’d be too welcoming of Bo.” Sara’s face fell. “I feel so bad leaving him and Ollo behind. Why wouldn’t he come?” I shrugged and pulled her closer. “Ollo doesn’t like leaving the carnival.” “But, he’d have been with us.” “Being with us might stop the comments, but it doesn’t stop people staring.” She frowned a little as she wrapped her arms around my neck while we waited to check in. “People stare at him when we’re at the carnival,” she said. “Sometimes they say stuff, too.” “Yeah, they do. But then he’s on his own turf and he has a comeback for anything that might be said and turns it into a laugh. He also knows that

every carnie there has his back.” She tilted her sweet face upward, her eyes large and worried. “He knows that you’d have his back, all of you. He could have come.” “It’s more than that,” I tried to explain, searching for the right words. “The carnival is where he feels safe. It’s his home.” She sighed, resting her head against my chest. “He’ll be fine. He said he was going to visit with Yolanda. You know, the woman who has the dog act. Bo’s real good friends with her Golden Retriever, Maverick—they’ll be okay.” “I know, I just miss them.” It felt strange taking a break from our lives, but it was great to get away for a while, and I was really happy for Dan marrying his college sweetheart. Lisanne had been really good for him, and her family had looked out for my brother when I was in prison. I’d never thanked them for that, so now would be my chance. The rooms that Dan had reserved for us were even more impressive than the hotel’s luxurious lobby. Each of us had a two-room suite with a separate bedroom and dining area, and a balcony with views over Atlanta. The air in the room was chilled, but when I stepped out onto the balcony, I felt the full humid heat of Georgia in September, and imagined I could

smell peach blossom. A smile crept across my face when I saw the SkyView to the south, a giant Ferris wheel silhouetted against the sunset. “Hey, baby mama! Do you want to take a ride over there?” Sara walked onto the balcony, slipping under my raised arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Oh wow! It feels like home,” and she laughed. Her happiness shot a bolt straight into my heart —she already thought of the carnival as her home. I held her tightly, thankful that she’d come into my life. That evening, we had a family dinner, and I saw Lisanne gazing wistfully at Sara and Aimee, and I wondered how long it would be before Dan was calling me up telling me I was going to be an uncle. Maybe a while yet; her career was really taking off, and her band’s debut album had just entered the top #100 chart. I spoke to her parents, as well. They were friendly but reserved, and I knew I’d have to earn their trust, but starting with an apology didn’t suck. It was one hell of a wedding. I had no idea how Dan and Lisanne had pulled it off, that was for sure. Because the paps had learned that the guests were all staying at the same hotel, they’d staked the place out, assuming that’s where the wedding

would be, too. Instead, a simple ceremony had taken place at the botanical gardens, and before word had gotten out, we’d all jumped into limos and been driven through the light afternoon traffic to a subterranean downtown jazz club, only just this side of sleazy, and very, very private. “This is more like it!” yelled Dan, pulling at his bow tie and wrapping one arm around his new wife. Lisanne grinned, pulling his head down for a kiss. “They look so happy,” sighed Sara. “She’s so beautiful, and I love her dress.” “Yeah, she looks nice,” I agreed. “Nice? She looks amazing!” “You look better,” I whispered, kissing her ear and nipping the lobe. Sara glowed, her eyes bright and happy. “Tera helped me find this dress,” she confessed. “She was really amazing—all these sales assistants were falling over themselves to help her, well me, I guess. It’s like she snaps into being this whole other person. You can tell she’s the daughter of a senator.” “Kes is a senator’s kid, too,” I pointed out. “Oh, I forgot that. He doesn’t care about it though, does he?” “Because it’s not about where you come from that matters; it’s how you treat the people in your

life. Carnie lore.” She laughed and smoothed down the pale blue silk that floated over her curves, framing her perfectly. She really looked beautiful. I wanted to slide her out of that dress and enjoy all of her mounds and curves. We weren’t at that place yet, but I thought we would be soon. Sharing a bed with her was fuckin’ beautiful torture. The guests were an interesting mix. There was Lisanne’s family: her parents were both math teachers and seemed overwhelmed by the boisterous crowd. Her grandmother on her mom’s side was knocking back brandy and flirting with a bemused linebacker friend of Dan’s. Her grandfather on her dad’s side was talking bikes with Kes, and her little brother, a lanky college sophomore, was trying out his flirting skills on Lisanne’s bridesmaid, Kirsty, and failing. Luke was deep in conversation with Lisanne’s gay friend, Rodney, and Zach was throwing increasingly irritated looks their way. Aimee and Sara were talking babies and pregnancy, whispering horrified stories to each other and giggling a lot. The guys in Lisanne’s band were having a bet to see who could pull more girls: a rock star or a football player, and there were plenty of women who were interested in both. Tera was talking to the Falcons’ coach and I

saw them exchanging business cards, which made me smile. Tera never missed a chance to network or talk up the Daredevils. It was loud and noisy, and full of love and laughter. This is my family, I thought. These are my people. It was a good feeling. Daniel looked so damn happy, he was dancing with Lisanne in his arms, as if they were the only two people in the room. He’d abandoned wearing his CI hearing implant, probably because there was too much background noise for him to process it easily. He said crowds like this sounded like a bunch of ducks quacking. I wondered what it would be like to be in his world right now, surrounded by people, but in a world of silence. He couldn’t hear the band playing or his friends laughing; he couldn’t hear the quiet humming of his new wife as Lisanne’s own happiness spilled out into music as she sang along. “Hey, congratulations,” I said, interrupting their moment and earning a dark look from Dan as he lip read my words. “I’ve just come to kiss the bride, doing my Best Man duties, ya know.” Lisanne gave me a warm hug and shot a warning glance at Dan. I loved how whipped he was. “I thought I’d better do my speech before everyone’s too hammered. Or would you rather just keep the partying going?” I asked hopefully.

Dan gave me an evil smile. “You’re not getting out of this, big bro. It was worth wearing the monkey suit just to see you make an ass of yourself.” Lisanne smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing, Zef.” “Ah hell,” I sighed. “Fine, I’ll do it. But just so you know, I’m not giving you a super-couples name like Danisanne.” “Fuck, no!” said Dan, looking horrified. “Sounds like a drain cleaner.” “Lisanniel?” Lisanne shook her head and grimaced. “That’s even worse—sounds like something you’d gargle with after brushing your teeth!” I laughed. “Yeah, that might actually be worth mentioning.” “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Zef!” “Stop with the f-bombs, Daniel!” Lisanne muttered, glancing around her, but he just laughed. “Come on, big bro. Let’s get this speech over with.” Dan waited for the song to end then climbed up onto the stage. “Alright, you motherf—guys, listen up! This here is my big brother, Zef, and because I feel sorry for him, I decided that I’d let him be the Best Man. Although Lis already knows that I’m the best man.

Right, baby doll?” The crowd cheered and Lisanne blew him a kiss. He let the applause die down, then looked out at his guests. “It’s been a long road coming to this day, but I wouldn’t have changed a single step of that journey. Because any of the times I fell or screwed up, Lisanne, my wife,” and he paused as the guests cheered again, “because my wife has been there with me since the first day we met. I can’t tell you the number of times that I wanted to give up, but she never let me. I wanted to be a better man for her . . .” “Aw, so cute!” “He’s in love, give him a break!” Dan smiled happily. “There’s a ton of people I’ve got to thank today —all of you lushes for showing up! Lisanne’s family for taking me in when I was just an asshole with a dream, especially Pops for telling me where to get the best baffle cores for my Harley, and Harry for . . . yeah, we’ll keep that a secret, huh, brother-in-law? Rodney, for putting up with sharing a house all through college—thank you for looking after my girl through high school, dude! I’d like to thank all the guys in 32o North, the hottest indie band in history who’ve just hit number 97 in the charts with their debut album Elephant Shoes!”

More cheers rang out. “To our gorgeous bridesmaid, Kirsty, who for some reason is still hanging around with a loser like Vin Vescovi from the Saints . . .” Loud boos rang out as Dan named his old college buddy who now played for the Falcons’ biggest rivals, the New Orleans Saints, and Vin took an ironic bow. “I’d like to thank my boss, Mr. Arthur Blank, for letting me play for such an awesome team, but especially Dan Quinn, our Head Coach. And my teammates—you guys rock! Falcons for the trophy!” Everyone cheered and clapped. Daniel smiled as he gazed out at his friends, then paused and looked across at me. “My brother and I had a pretty good start in life. We had some awesome parents, Rebecca and Adam, and I wish like hell that they could be here today to celebrate, and maybe they are in spirit. I’d like to think so. Things started to get rough when I realized that I was going deaf. But this guy over here,” and he pointed at me, “my asshole brother, he took me and Mom to ASL classes twice a week for two years, never missing a single one.” And he signed, Love you, fucker! I laughed and signed back, Save it for your wife! “He looked out for me when Mom and Dad

died. It was a bad time, but he was always there for me. He had some dark times, too, but he never stopped caring.” And then he turned to Lisanne. “But most of all, I’d like to thank my beautiful wife, Lisanne Maclaine Colton, for lowering her standards and agreeing to marry me. You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet, baby doll. I love you.” Applause and cheers rang out as he leapt off the stage and swept Lisanne into a Hollywood kiss, making her laugh and blush. “You fucker,” I muttered to his face as I walked past. “How the fuck am I supposed to follow that?” Dan just winked at me and grinned broadly. I stood on the stage, gazing out at the sea of people in front of me. I’d had a speech all worked out in my head, but now my words had deserted me. I searched the room until I found Sara. She smiled up at me, and somehow I knew what I wanted to say. “Dan has been a pain in my ass from the day he was born.” People started laughing and I saw Lisanne’s grandmother choke on her Brandy Alexander. “He shared my bedroom, played with my toys, and Mom used to make me take him along when I went to my friend’s slip-and-slide every summer. When he was ten, he started hitting on my

girlfriends, and yes he embarrassed himself as much as you’d imagine. I don’t think Gloria Estancia ever recovered from you trying to play tonsil hockey with her, brother! You’ve gotta let a chick breathe, you know what I’m saying?” I took a deep breath as guests laughed and drank an ironic toast. “When the doctors told Dan that he was going deaf and that it would be permanent, it was a difficult time for all of us. The kid was an amazing musician. No one could play guitar like Dan.” The room fell silent. “His dreams were stolen. So how does a fourteen year old kid come back from that? By being strong, by finding new dreams. So yeah, I took him to sign language classes because I respected the hell out of him. And if he couldn’t be a musician, maybe he could be a jock, and we spent a lot of hours in the backyard tossing a ball. I guess it worked out okay for him.” A few people laughed. “The poor kid had tragic taste in women, so I’m really thankful that he finally came to his senses— either that or Lisanne felt sorry enough for him to take him. You’re an amazing woman, Lis, and I’m really happy that you married my little brother. Welcome to the family.” She raised her glass and blew me a kiss. “As an older brother, I was supposed to be the smart one, but I’ve learned so much more from

Dan. About what a man should be and how he should treat the people that he loves. He’s taught me not to give up when times are tough—and he’s taught me that Calvin Klein underwear really do make your package look bigger.” Asshole, Dan signed at me. “So, ladies and gentleman, please raise your glasses in a toast to Dan and his gorgeous, if lacking-in-judgement, new wife, Lisanne. Ladies and gentleman: Danisanne!” Everyone raised their glasses and the band started playing Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars. I caught Dan’s confused glance and then saw Lisanne mouth the name of the song for him. Joy and sadness ached in my heart as I thought of the journey they still had ahead of them. For all of us. I jumped down from the stage, intending to make an indecent proposal to Sara, when a man in a sharp-looking suit tapped me on the shoulder. “Hello, Zef. It’s good to see you again. Great speech! Seymour Michaels, No Limit Films, as I’m sure you remember.” He held out his hand, but I just stared at him, a frown on my face. “Yeah, I remember you. How exactly did you get yourself invited to my little brother’s wedding?” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m working with Arthur Blank, the Falcons’ owner, on a documentary about the team . . . and

their new superstar quarterback.” “Figures,” I sighed. Dan had been desperate not to have any business people at his wedding, people who weren’t friends, but it looked like a few hangers-on had slipped through the system. “The Daredevils are doing well,” Michaels said, following me as I pushed past the guests who were dancing and drinking. “I’m glad to see that Kestrel made a full recovery from his injuries.” “Are you?” I turned, asking him sharply. “Because I seem to remember that when Aimee came to you for help, you wouldn’t lift a damn finger.” He frowned, as if my comment was a surprise to him. “Of course I was sorry about his terrible accident, we all were. But I wasn’t in a position to help him financially.” I raised my eyebrows. “You seem to think the streets of Hollywood are paved with gold, Zef, but financing productions is getting harder all the time; choices are becoming safer. That’s why you see so many sequels, prequels and remakes. I have to damn near remortgage my home to get the leverage every time I make a new movie. My wife has sleepless nights praying I’ll be able to pay it off.” “Yeah, whatever, man,” I shrugged, not wanting

to get in a fight with him. “Anyway,” he said, forcing a smile, “I actually wanted to talk with the documentary filmmaker that you’ve been working with. Miss Hawkins was kind enough to tell me that KTM is sponsoring you and have some exciting plans. I hear that Sara Weiss is very talented.” He leaned closer. “I’m always interested in new talent.” I stared at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. On the other side of the room, Tera winked at me and raised her glass of champagne. “I’ll introduce you,” I grinned, and I walked over to Sara who was still discussing baby bumps with Aimee, and the difficulty of trying to find jeans that fit. “Hey, ladies, sorry for the interruption. Aimee, I’m sure you’ll remember meeting Seymour Michaels,” and I raised my eyebrows as she gave him a cold look. “Seymour,” she intoned, ice dripping from her voice. He ignored her tone and leaned in for an air kiss, choosing not to notice her cringe. “Mrs. Donohue,” the pleasure is all mine. “And this is Miss Sara Weiss, our documentary filmmaker who’s working with Tera Hawkins on publicity.” Sara looked as confused as Michaels; he just hid it better. He scanned her quickly, assessing her age and

the bump, then glancing back at me. “A great pleasure, Miss Weiss. I’m a huge fan of your work.” “You are?” “Yes, very much indeed. I was talking with Carrie Christie, the KTM Marketing Manager. She’s a huge fan of yours, too.” “Um, thank you very much. That’s really nice of you.” “We have so much to talk about, Miss Weiss. Or may I call you Sara?” He took her elbow as if he was about to lead her away, but I clamped an arm around her waist. “You can call her Miss Weiss.” “Zef!” Sara hissed, her cheeks glowing red. Michaels was too smooth to be put off his stride by my rudeness and he just laughed. “Ah, like that, is it? I see. And who could blame you, Zef. She’s lovely.” “What’s the pitch, Michaels? Make it quick because we want to get back to enjoying my brother’s wedding.” “Of course. Simply, I’d like No Limits to coproduce a film about the Daredevils, but not just another stunt movie. No, what I love about your work, Miss Weiss, is your ability to get inside carnival life itself. It’s such a unique world, moviegoers will love it as much as motorsport fans. Naturally, I can understand now why you had such

unusual access, but that’s what will make it even more personal.” “What are you offering?” I asked as Sara stared, open mouthed. “Better equipment, a professional top-line editor, marketing expertise and distribution,” he said with a smile. I nodded and pocketed the business card he gave me. “Zachary Wade is her agent. We’ll pass it on.” “Marvelous,” he said. “And please pass on my felicitations to your brother.” He walked away appearing very pleased with himself. “What just happened?” Sara asked, utterly bewildered. Aimee laughed. “I think you just got invited to make a movie in Hollywood.”

When Dan and Lisanne left using his boss’s private limo, the party went on for a few more hours. But Sara was tired and I was happy enough to leave with her. The whole evening had been fantastic, and Dan had even eased up enough to welcome Sara to the family, although I suspected that might have been more because of Lisanne’s insistence. Sara was excited about Michaels’ offer. I didn’t want to burst her bubble, but I didn’t trust the guy. I hadn’t forgotten that he’d made promises to Kes before he smashed up his back, and I hadn’t forgiven him for not helping at the time. His explanation of why he hadn’t—yeah, I wasn’t going to take him at his word. Kes had blanked the guy so that had made an interesting conversation. But Kes was also smart enough to know that this could be a big deal for the Daredevils as well as for Sara. We had something that Michaels wanted—no need to roll over on our backs with our legs in the air. Zach assured us that he’d get some more details from his contact at KTM, and Tera said that she’d look into how similar co-production set-ups had

worked. Even exhausted, Sara was high as a kite and I wasn’t going to take that away from her. We decided to walk the short distance back to the hotel and enjoy the cooler night air. It was way too late to take a ride on the SkyView, but we enjoyed strolling along the streets and gazing up at the giant Ferris wheel. It was strange how the symbol of the traveling carnival had become such a feature of cities all over the world. People still wanted that slice of magic, even though traveling fairs were being corralled into permanent locations: it gave me hope. We’d left the party a few minutes ahead of the others, wanting some alone time. Big mistake. The attack came out of the blue. One minute, I was walking down the street with my girl, still in my tux and her in a silk dress that clung to curves, every single one of them, and the next minute I was yanked backwards into a dark alley, face to face with Roy’s cyclops grin as his fist made contact with my jaw. “You haven’t got your tame midget to save you this time, Colton!” I crashed against the wall, wondering if my teeth were still in my mouth. I kept moving, reeling further than I needed to, letting him think that I was off balance when really I was just getting distance between him and his

goons—three of them lurking in the gloom. I’d warned Dan about Roy at the pre-season game, then I’d let my own guard down because the club had seemed so safe and all the vibes were good. I was furious with myself. A spark of fear ignited the terror latent inside me when I saw one of the goons slip out of the alley and grab Sara, trying to hustle her toward a parked van. “Sara!” She let out a shriek that could wake the dead, kicking his shins with her high heels and generally making herself noticeable. Smart and brave—that’s my gal! I saw all that in a split second, my mind falling into the intense focus that I used for my stunts, when time slowed down and let me see the outcome of a jump before I’d landed it. And Roy’s ambush had a major flaw: yes, it was a dark alley where no one would see us, but he was 6’ 4” and weighed 300 pounds—it didn’t leave him much room to maneuver. I let his punch drop me to my knees, then I launched a foot sweep that knocked his legs out from under him, hearing a satisfying crack as his ACL snapped. Justice or irony? I didn’t care. When he slammed into the sidewalk like a giant redwood that had been felled, I could have sworn I felt the ground shake.

He was sprawling backwards, half in, half out of the alley. People were stopping to stare, a few pulling out cell phones, but whether that was to film the action or to call the cops, I wouldn’t want to bet. So I made it real clear for them as I stepped over Roy, grinding my heel into his ugly face as I went. “Dial 911! Call the police! Sara, hold on, baby! Hold on!” I didn’t know if anyone was listening, but Sara’s screams were muffled now as the goon pressed his hand over her mouth. I could see her wide, frightened eyes, and people were yelling at him to put her down, but too afraid to directly intervene. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw goon number two lunge at me, the glint of a knife flashing under the neon streetlight. I stepped backwards, sucking in my belly and saluting my tailor as the knife caught in the lightweight wool. He tugged it free, swearing as he shred my jacket. Moving quickly, needing to put him down and get to Sara, I caught my arm around his throat and ran his head right into the brick wall of the alley—quick ‘n’ dirty. I heard footsteps pounding up behind me, but it wasn’t the police who came to help: it was my brothers. Sprinting along the street, still in their tuxes,

Kes, Luke, Zach and Tucker piled in. And then I saw two huge football players hurtling along behind them. Roy should have waited until he’d caught me completely alone, but he’d gotten impatient, and he’d gotten sloppy. A fourth goon who’d been sidelined at the back of the alley tried to make a break for it, but Kes was after him like a wolf, loping behind him and bringing his prey down swiftly. Then all hell broke loose. I hurled myself at Sara’s attacker, vaguely aware that he was screeching in a high-pitched voice. She gave his balls another twist and ducked out of the way as I grabbed his arm and wrenched it up his back. Sirens were wailing and people were shouting; the two footballers were sitting on Roy as he thrashed around, swearing a blue streak, blood dribbling from his nose where I’d smashed his nose. I was half expecting to be arrested along with Roy and his henchmen, not having the best relationship with American’s finest, but when the guys on your side are two of the most famous running backs in the history of Georgia state football, it’s definitely a bonus. Sara threw herself into my arms, shocked but furious instead of fearful. She was shaking, from the adrenaline, I

thought. “Is it over now? Roy, is it over? Because I can’t risk Peanut getting hurt . . .” I pulled her closer. “He can’t touch you. He’s going down for a long time. It’s going to be okay, Sara. We’ll be okay.” She seemed to throw off the shock quickly, although I knew that could sneak up on you in the quiet of the night. That would come later, but for now she was loud and voluble, talking the ears off a police officer who was trying to take some details. Roy and his fucktards were bleeding all over the sidewalk and Kes dragged the man he’d caught, his arm wrapped around the fucker’s throat. My jaw was sore and I thought Roy had loosened a couple of teeth, but the worst damage was to my jacket which hung in ribbons. I was annoyed about that—Sara said it looked hot on me. We were at the police station for less than halfan-hour before the Falcons’ management sent a high-priced lawyer to look after their investment, and by default, me and the others. Another forty minutes after that, and the news was that Roy and the our attackers would be charged with everything from attempted abduction to aggravated assault, with no chance of bail. Not bad for a night’s work. Not bad for years of looking over my shoulder.

We were free to go.

I slept for most of the five-hour flight back to LAX and woke up stiff and sore, but happy to have Sara’s head on my shoulder, happy to be heading home. Seeing Dan get married had felt great, but seeing Roy laying on the ground and then being arrested was almost as satisfying. I hadn’t realized how much thoughts of him had haunted me over the last seven years. But the real kicker was that the moneyman behind Roy, Savannah’s very own Mr. Big, had hung him out to dry. The police had let us know that the usual high-priced lawyer who represented the city’s dirt-bags had refused to take Roy’s calls. It seemed that having attention drawn to his organization or getting into a legal case with two members of the Falcons wasn’t on Mr. Big’s to-do list this week. Roy was going down for a very long time, and I was free. It was worth a few bruises and a jaw that ached every time I so much as sipped a cup of coffee. The guys had come through for me, not that I’d ever doubted them, but they’d stood beside me and

saved my sorry ass. Again. They knew I’d do the same for them every day of the week. Because we were family. We were carnies. And that meant something to us. I think the others felt the same shot of adrenaline that I did, because despite two late nights and a fun-packed/fight-packed couple of days, we were all on fire. We returned to the carnival and put on one of the best shows of our lives. Our jumps were higher and wilder, the spins faster, the split-second timing even tighter. And although I could hear the roar of the crowd through my helmet, this performance was for us. Clannad’s primeval drums filled the stadium, pounding out the sound of battle as we dueled in the air, fighting our way around the racetrack, warriors, gladiators. I roared out of that racetrack with my blood on fire. Sara was waiting for me. Her thin sundress whipped around her legs in the evening breeze, pulling the material taut over her belly, clinging to her hips and breasts. I barely stopped the bike long enough for her cheeks to flush as she nodded at me quickly. I pulled her across my lap, my arms cocooning her while I drove as fast as I dared across the uneven paving of the back lot.

At the RV, I pulled off my helmet and tossed it onto the saddle then carried her into her bedroom. Bo was furious when I ejected him from her room. I loved the little guy, but wild monkey sex was not happening with the monkey watching. Her hands groped at my leathers, pulling on zips and straps, frustrated. My dick had been rock hard for too long and I growled as she palmed me roughly. I unbuckled my boots as quickly as I could, hearing the thunk, thunk as I kicked them into the corner, stripping quickly, still soaked in sweat. I gripped Sara’s hips and she raised her arms above her head, allowing me to lift the sundress over her head, tossing it behind me. My eyes widened at the sight of her impossibly full breasts, overflowing a bra that was definitely too small for her. “They’ve grown since you last saw them,” she murmured shyly. “Damn, you’re hot when you’re pregnant,” I grunted as I pushed the cups down and lifted the heavy flesh, covering each breast with my hands, squeezing the nipples until she was writhing and crying out. I pushed my face between her breasts, hearing her hiss as my beard brushed against her flushed skin. She grabbed my biceps, unable to keep her balance, so I lowered her to the bed, my dick

leaking over her round stomach. I paused, realizing that this wasn’t going to work quite how I’d imagined it, and I’d imagined it a lot. I slid down to her thighs, sliding her damp panties down long, tan legs. Arousal hot and musky hit my nostrils as I brought my mouth to her clit, and she dug her short nails into my shoulders, begging and crying. It didn’t take long before she was making her mark on my skin, and I fuckin’ loved that. My own control was down to almost zero. I wanted her on her hands and knees, but she was so limp and breathless that wasn’t going to work either. Carefully, I rolled her onto her side and moved in close behind her, my dick parting her round ass as I moved into position. She lifted her leg for me, the rough hair of my thighs against her silky skin. I sank into warm, willing, wet pussy, hot and tight, and fuck me, so incredible. For a second, I was terrified that I was going to hurt the baby. Maybe this was a bad idea. My dick wanted to cry at the thought of having to beat a retreat. But then she moaned and squirmed against me, so I figured I was good to go. I didn’t know what words were coming out of her mouth, maybe not even words, but when she reached behind and grabbed my butt cheek with one hand, I got the message.

I’d never fucked a pregnant woman, but I don’t think that was what made it so hot, so sensational; I think it was Sara. Scratch that. I knew it was Sara. I reached forward to rub her clit and she nearly launched herself off the mattress, shrieking my name. Damn if that didn’t make me need to come so hard I saw stars. I pumped roughly, my dick growing and then bursting inside her as I emptied everything I had, pleasure and pain drawn on my face. Months of celibacy and too many weeks of wanting her. I think I passed out for a second, and we lay locked together, breathless and sweat-soaked as we floated back to earth. My dick softened and slipped out of her, and she gave a soft giggle as jizz trickled across our legs. With some difficulty, she turned over to face me, resting her damp forehead against my chest. I pushed the clinging strands of hair from her face, smiling as her eyes closed and her lips turned upward. “I knew it would be epic,” she said softly. “Can we do it again?” I gave a quiet laugh. “Any time you want, sugar. Any time five minutes from now.” “Oops, I think you woke up Peanut. Here, feel.”

She pressed my hand against her stomach and I felt the little guy moving around, pissed that he was missing nap time. “Go back to sleep, Peanut,” I whispered. “Your mama and I have unfinished business.” I looked up to see a single tear trickling down Sara’s face and I was instantly worried. “No, I’m fine, really,” she sniffed as I wiped the salty tear from her cheek with my thumb and kissed her hands. “It’s just that . . . well, I talk to him, too. I’ve told him all about you.” “You have?” “Yes, everything.” My heart tripped over itself, just an extra beat, a shiver of something I didn’t understand. I rubbed my chest, then leaned down to kiss her lips. It shifted inside me, a deep, warming pleasure that I was part of this, too. I felt protective, and defensive of anyone who’d try to come between us. The three of us. “We should get up and go to the barbecue,” she mumbled, snuggling in closer as our kiss ended. “Nope, not moving from here,” I grumbled, pulling her closer so our bodies were slicked together. She gave a soft laugh. “Are you always . . . like that . . . after a show? I was just wondering . . .” Her words petered out, but it felt like there was

something else she wasn’t saying, but I decided to take her question at face value. “Pretty much, yeah. It’s the adrenaline, the rush. It happens mostly, not always.” She was silent for a moment. “Did you . . . have you slept with a lot of women?” There was no point sugarcoating it. “Yeah.” She gave a little hiss of shock. “How many?” “I don’t know.” “You must know!” she said, her voice sharp and upset. “I didn’t keep score, Sara, because they didn’t matter to me. You do.” She looked like she was going to reply, but then some total dickwad asshole with a death wish banged on our door. “Get your miserable butt out here, Zef,” yelled Tucker. “There’s someone here to see your ugly face. And Sara.” “Fuck off!” “I mean it, Colton! Now! Don’t make me drag you outta there.” “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Who is it?” “Just get your ass out here!” “You’d better go,” Sara muttered, pulling away from me and wrapping the sheet around her. “It

sounds important.” “It had better be, or Tucker will be picking his teeth up off the floor.” She laughed quietly. “I’ll come out when I’m more . . . together.” Then I heard Tucker banging on Kes and Aimee’s door, and wondered what the hell was going on. I pulled on my briefs and found a pair of jeans, not bothering with a t-shirt so I could cool down some. Then I jumped out of the RV to see what was so important that we couldn’t be left alone for five minutes.

Sara My head was spinning. I’d just been thoroughly and spectacularly screwed—two orgasms and counting, with the promise of more to come, and now Zef had gone and I felt a little sore and a lot confused. He’d admitted that he’d slept with a lot of women, but wouldn’t tell me what that meant, so it could be hundreds. And I know he’d said I was important, but for how long would he be satisfied with just me? Had the sex been so good because I was so

darned horny all of the time? I hadn’t had the chance to go and buy another vibrator, and I wondered distantly if Mom had found the one I used to keep hidden in my closet. I gave a wry smile. Knowing her, she’d probably redecorated my whole bedroom as a guest room by now. Since I’d had the almost-sex with Zef all those weeks ago, I hadn’t been able to keep my mind from thoughts of him. I’d almost given myself carpal tunnel syndrome the way I’d been bringing my clit to life every night before we’d started sharing a bed. After everything that had happened with my parents, I’d been in a weird place. I was still amazed that he was prepared to spend time with me even if we weren’t having sex. But now . . . I didn’t have to go on missing out. I was sure my rampant hormones played a role, but I was also doubly certain that it was because of Zef. Sex with Owen had been pretty unexciting: not much foreplay and a lot of blowjobs when he could get them. That seemed about average from what my girlfriends shared with me. By comparison, which I knew was kind of messed up, his dad was a much more skillful lover and could get me hot and bothered, but then it was all about him, and he only ever liked the missionary position so he could hold my hands down. I thought it was hot at first, but I wondered after if it was because he didn’t want to

risk me marking him. But Zef . . . oh boy! It was explosive from the second he looked at me with those hot, burning eyes. Game Over. And for a big guy, and I mean bi-g, he’d been really gentle. When he realized that missionary wasn’t going to work, he’d found a position that was great for me. I’d been afraid that he wouldn’t find me attractive now I was so fat, but he’d stared at my swollen boobs for so long, I’d half wondered if he’d expected them to start talking. I kind of loved that I could do that to him. Not that he was the most talkative guy ever, but he’d said the words that mattered: you’re hot when you’re pregnant. I was glowing with post-coital bliss and a little bit of pride. And I felt happy for the first time in a long while. A very long while. Zef made me happy. And I was going to do everything I could to make him happy, too. Although I wondered how long that would last when a crying baby was part of the equation. I frowned, wondering for the millionth time if I was being a complete idiot. I sighed. Maybe just a little bit of an idiot. Because as I’d discovered, sex with Zef was worth a touch of lunacy. He said he didn’t mind about the baby and when he’d talked to Peanut, I’d felt this incredible

wave of emotion, but I also knew that what guys said and what they really thought, were two wholly different things. I had firsthand experience of that. I tiptoed into the shower, relieved not to bump into anyone who might have heard me. I think I might have yelled a little while we were making love. Just a little. Then I pulled on my sundress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles with my hands, but quickly gave up. I brushed on a little powder to take the redness from my face, and some gloss to make me look fresh. I glanced in the tiny mirror that was hung on the closet door. Nope, I still looked freshly fucked. Oh well.

Zef A brunette that I vaguely recognized was sitting with Zach, Luke, Tera and Tucker, sipping what looked like champagne out of plastic cups. She smiled as I scowled down at her, obviously having heard me yelling at Tucker. “Hello, Zef,” she grinned, standing to shake my hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt your, um, celebrations, but I have good news. I’m Carrie Christie, KTM Marketing Manager for the US.”

“Hi,” I muttered gracelessly, shaking her manicured hand. Then seeing Zach glaring at me, added, “Good to meet you.” She laughed. “I guess I should have made an appointment.” “Yeah.” Sara stepped out of the RV and my eyes turned to her automatically. Her cheeks were pink and her lips soft and pouty. She looked freshly fucked. Blushing even harder, she walked across and sat next to me, smiling shyly at the marketing woman as she introduced herself. Kes and Aimee followed soon after, Kes looking as surly as I felt. “Well, now everyone’s here,” she went on, “I have good news. I spoke to Seymour Michaels of No Limits Film Productions this morning, and he’s made an offer for a joint-production promo movie about the Daredevils. He’s putting $300,000 on the table and KTM are prepared to match that. He really likes Sara’s guerrilla filmmaking style.” She was laying it on thick. As far as I could tell ‘guerrilla filmmaking’ meant ‘on the cheap’. You couldn’t tell by looking at Kes what he was thinking, but I knew that he was more than interested. Sara couldn’t hide her shock, and Tucker shot an amused smile at Tera. “That was all very quick,” said Aimee. “We only spoke to Mr. Michaels yesterday.”

Carrie crossed her legs and gave a sly smile. “He wants to nail down a stake in this production. Since Sara’s movie short showed up on your website and ours, there have been other offers.” “There have?” “Not as good as this one, but yeah.” Zach glanced at Tera who winked. Publicity was her territory and if she thought that this was a good idea, we’d probably go for it. “Send me the preliminaries and I’ll go over them in the morning,” said Zach. “I’d like to know how this deal is going to be served up, what the likely costs will be and the probable profit margin.” Then he grinned at us. “It’s really good news. Thank you for coming out so late to tell us in person, Miss Christie.” She laughed. “Please, it’s Carrie. And it wasn’t a hardship! I got to see your amazing show and meet all of the famous Daredevils. Plus, champagne around a picnic table—what’s not to like?”

“What the hell is that?” “It’s a parrot,” said Ollo. “I can see it’s a freakin’ parrot. What’s it doing here?” “Isn’t he beautiful? He’s an African Grey,” Ollo cooed as he stroked the soft, lead-colored plumage on the cranky-looking bird. “His name is Socrates, but he answers to Socks.” “Good to know,” I said. “Where did you get him?” “Yolanda found him in a pet shop downtown. A damn pet shop! She said he looked so miserable that she couldn’t leave him there. She was going to make him part of her act, but it turns out that he has a small social problem and he doesn’t like dogs.” “Seriously? Who doesn’t like dogs?” The parrot squawked indignantly and a few more feathers molted, fluttering to the ground and leaving a bald patch on his chest. “That is one sorry looking creature, old man.” “Aw, he don’t mean it, Socks. You’ll be in your prime again soon.” “I think he had his prime a few years ago.”

“Not true! He’s the same age as you,” and Ollo laughed. “Unless you’re saying that you’re past it, kid?” “Fuckin’ funny, Ollo,” I grimaced as I rubbed my bad knee. “Seriously, how old is that feather duster?” “I wasn’t joking. He’s about 30. The pet shop owner couldn’t be sure. Parrots like this can live to fifty, sometimes even seventy or eighty.” The parrot side-eyed me then let out a loud squawk. “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!” in the perfect imitation of a British accent. Ollo busted out laughing. “I told ya he had issues. Turns out some English rube owned him and taught him to say that. Every time Yolanda tried to put him in the act, he’d end up mouthing off.” Ollo stroked the ugly old bird and it ducked its head, pecking his fingers gently, then hopped onto his shoulder. Maybe that was what passed for affection in the bird world. “You look like a damn pirate, old man. Just keep that bag of feathers away from me.”

By the time we ate our meal after the final show, I

was the only who hadn’t been won over by Ollo’s new friend. Even Bo seemed to like him, and Ollo was walking around with a monkey on one shoulder and a parrot on the other. Sara caught it all on camera and seemed enchanted. We’d accepted Michaels’ deal and Sara had spent the day using her own SLR camera to film up and down the midway, stills and video, but had already been in touch with someone from Michaels’ office who was coming over in the morning to teach her how to use a Steadicam. She was bouncing up and down with excitement. “Buddy and Val promised to help me tomorrow,” she said, her smile huge. “They’re going to get set up on the Ghost Train, although I won’t be able to do that one, but I’ll definitely do the Ferris Wheel. They’ll do the filming on the gravity rides and slides.” My brain was slow to catch up, so I asked a really dumb question. “You don’t want to film those yourself?” “Hello!” she said teasingly. “Pregnant woman here! Probably not a good idea to get thrown around when I’m five months pregnant.” “Oh, shit, baby! I’m so fuckin’ sorry! I wasn’t thinking.” “I forgive you,” she said, climbing into my lap. “There’s lots of other stuff I can do myself. I’m just being careful.”

She squirmed on my lap getting comfortable, immediately giving me a chubby. “Anyway, I was going to ask you something. Aimee has made us both appointments for our monthly checkups with the obstetrician. Kes is driving us but . . . would you come with me?” Pride, warmth and hope filled my chest. She was letting me in. She was trusting me to be Peanut’s father. I picked up her small hands and held them reverently. “It would be my honor.” A loud squawk sounded in my ear and Sara jumped. “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!” “Oh my God! What did he just say?” “Good question,” I muttered. “Little fucktard.” Sara ignored me and reached out carefully to stroke the bird’s back. Suddenly he flapped into the air and hopped onto her outstretched arm. She gave a little squeal and then laughed. “He likes me!” “He knows a soft touch when he sees one,” I grouched, brushing feathers out of my face. “Aw, don’t be mean! He’s beautiful! Look at his little pink beak and his little pink tail. Wait, is it a he?” “Hasn’t got a wiener,” laughed Tucker, “so it must be a girl.”

“I was mistaken,” I said wearily. “He’s the fucktard.” The parrot hopped down from Sara’s arm and nestled between us, closing its eyes and tucking its head under a wing. “Is that your mommy and daddy, Socks?” cooed Tucker. “Because I sure hope that you grow up to look like your mama and not that ugly old assface.” I raised my eyes to the clouds scudding across the blue sky above. “Is this my life now?” I asked. The sun came out and a ray of light shined down on the carnival. I smiled.

“What are you doing cluttering up the place, old man?” I hadn’t been able to sleep. Late last night, Aimee had been getting stomach pains. She swore it was indigestion, but Kes had insisted on taking her to the hospital again. It had thrown me, but Sara just held my hand and promised that she was fine. And then she promised that if she felt unwell she’d tell me. And after I’d nagged some more, I promised that I wouldn’t

mention it again. But in the small hours before dawn, something had disturbed me, some dark thought that I hadn’t been able to shake. I didn’t want to wake Sara, so I slid out of the bed and strolled along the darkened midway. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find Ollo sitting outside a kiddie ride named the Balloon Race. He often prowled the empty lot at night, saying he didn’t sleep well either. But I think he just enjoyed soaking in the echoes of the day, memories of the past keeping him company. As I neared, I could see that Bo was with him and sleeping soundly. Ollo shifted a little and opened his eyes, the pupils sliding into focus. “Cluttering up the place, huh? You’re a funny guy, Zef. Shoulda gone into clowning. Oh wait, you did.” His voice was weak and uncharacteristically lacking in energy, but it was enough to waken Bo. I expected him to run off, searching for an early breakfast, but he didn’t. He clung to Ollo, his black eyes glittering, his expression solemn. I crouched down next to them, shocked to see sweat lining Ollo’s upper lip, his skin an unhealthy gray. “Ollo, are you feeling okay? Let me help you get back to your crib.”

He shook his head. “No, I want to see the dawn.” “See the dawn tomorrow. Right now you look kinda sick.” He turned his eyes to mine. “It’s my last sunrise, Zef. Time to go and meet the Ring Master.” “What are you talking about? Shit, Ollo, you’re ice cold! I’m going to call an ambulance.” He grabbed my hand as I started to pull my cell phone from my back pocket. “No doctors.” “But you’re sick . . .” “I’m not sick, just old.” “Ollo . . .” “I don’t want to die in a hospital, Zef,” he said, his voice shaky, but his eyes dark and serious. “Not in a place with walls and ceilings. Don’t do that to me. Please.” I’d never heard Ollo say ‘please’ before; never heard him ask for anything, never want anything, never need anything. He’d been around the carnival forever, part of its history. His grip loosened and his arm fell to his side. He shook his head wearily as Bo chattered softly, blinking up at me, his round eyes full of fear. “Ollo, you’re not going to die!” He closed his eyes and smiled. “We’re all going to die one day, Zef. I don’t

mind. It’s been a wonderful life, full of stardust and magic, and I have an amazing family.” He opened his eyes again. “You’re a good man, Zef. Remember that.” I took off my jacket and used it as a pillow, trying to make him a little more comfortable. “Ollo, what can I do? Tell me what you need? Do you want a glass of water?” He shook his head. “No, I have everything I need right here. Just feelin’ a little tired, son.” My voice crawled out of my throat in a hoarse whisper. “There must be something I can do!” “I was going to take a ride on the Eli today,” he said, his voice weaker each second. “One last ride. But I can’t get there, my legs have gone.” I was torn in half. Part of me wanted to respect his wishes; and the other part of me wanted to call an ambulance and demand that they fix him, but he didn’t want that. Was he really dying? He definitely didn’t look good. His skin was cold and clammy, and his eyes were unfocussed. Another rush of panic flashed through me. I wanted to speak to Kes—he’d known Ollo his whole life. But I couldn’t call him while Aimee needed him. The Ferris wheel was at the opposite end of the

fairground and I knew Ollo would never make it by himself. Cursing softly, I plucked Bo from Ollo’s lap and situated him on my back, his leathery paws clinging to my shirt. Then I leaned down to pick up Ollo, carrying him in my arms like a child, something I’d never done before, respecting him too much to take such a liberty even when we were roughhousing. He was heavier than he looked, and I grunted with the effort, feeling the pressure in my newly-healed knee. He didn’t speak, but lay in my arms with his eyes closed. I knew what I had to do. As I walked past Zach and Luke’s RV, I pounded on the door with my boot, striding away as soon as I heard them stirring. Zach peered out of the door, his hair sticking up all over. “What the fuck, Zef? What’s going on?” “Ollo wants to take a ride on the Ferris wheel.” “Now?” “Yes.” “Are you kidding me? What the hell’s going on?” “Zach, right now, okay? Right now!” He saw Ollo in my arms and heard the crack in my voice. “Where’s Kes?” “He had to take Aimee to the hospital.”

“Shit, okay. I’m coming.” I heard him talking to Luke, and a minute later, they’d caught up with me. “Is Ollo sick?” Luke asked quietly. Ollo gave a small laugh that ended in a cough. “Well, if I wasn’t before, I sure am now surrounded by your ugly mugs.” My eyes burned and my throat threatened to choke me. “Are you gonna cry, big man? Aw, that’s sweet, but save your tears for that cute lil gal back in the caravan.” Ollo became heavier and heavier in my arms, but I wouldn’t let Zach or Luke help me carry him. I staggered on, urging them to go ahead and crank up the Ferris wheel. We were breaking about a hundred H&S rules—Zach didn’t even blink. “Security is going to be all over us in about four minutes,” Luke whispered as he walked beside me. “Nah. It’ll take them longer than that,” I said, my arms aching. “There aren’t that many of them at night. Get Zach to tell them we’re having a H&S check.” Luke threw me a small smile. “Fine, we’ll keep them off as long as we can.” Zach darted into the engineer’s booth and started up the massive machinery. It whirred and coughed into life, the buckets swinging slightly as if they’d just woken up.

Luke lifted the safety bar and I stepped into the first bucket, relieved to be sitting as Ollo leaned against me. “Thank you, boys,” he murmured. “One last ride.” He nodded slowly. “I don’t believe in goodbyes, but maybe I’ll make an exception this time. Take care of yourselves.” The bucket rose into the sky, eerie without the lights and music playing. I could hear the gears churning in the giant cogs, but kept my gaze fixed on Ollo. His eyes were closed but he was smiling. Higher and higher, we swung upward through the lightening sky. Ollo opened his eyes, but they were blank and unseeing. “Are we at the top yet?” His voice was light as air, and I had to lean my face next to his to hear him. “Nearly there.” “Can you see the ocean?” he asked, his voice becoming wispy. “Yes,” I lied. “I can see so far, Ollo. I can see the city and the hills and the ocean beyond. It’s beautiful. Do you see it?” He smiled, a serene expression that smoothed the crags and lines of age. The Ferris wheel reached the highest point and I felt the wind on my face. I looked down at Ollo as he took his last breath, his soul rising up through

the clouds on the final ride of all. He died in my arms, in the place that he loved, the place that he’d called home for longer than anyone knew. His life had been hard and strange and exciting; he’d seen so much and been loved by so many people; hated and feared by others because he was different. And I’d loved him, too, this strange little man who talked in riddles but had wisdom in those words. I’d loved him. And now he was gone.

Sara clutched my hand fiercely as tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Of all of us, she’d known Ollo the least amount of time, but his presence in the world had changed her. Ollo had changed us all. Kes was devastated. Losing Ollo was losing another link to his childhood, and the only person who’d known and loved the carnival like he had. Aimee had been kept in hospital on bed rest, but would be home soon. Without her to calm him down, he was coming apart at the seams. His grief was a heavy burden. Luke had helped me carry Ollo’s body back to

his RV, laying him on his own bed. And at a time when we wanted to grieve in private, the red tape of officialdom barged into our lives. A doctor was called to verify the time of death and start the paperwork for a death certificate. Kes nearly lost it when the doc refused to recognize him as Ollo’s next of kin without any documentation. Luckily, he was able to get ahold of the guy who’d treated Ollo when he’d been hospitalized a year ago. Somewhat reluctantly, that doctor had checked his notes and acknowledged that Ollo had claimed Kes as family and named him as next of kin. A police officer visited, too, as part of the regulations. She was surprisingly sympathetic even though Kes was hostile and short-tempered. Zach was on his game, more used to dealing with paperwork than the rest of us, but making his calls and using his computer with reddened eyes. Zach had known Ollo since he was a teenager, and as his birth family had kicked him out because he was gay, the carnival had become his home. Ollo was . . . had been a big part of that. Maybe because he was someone else who celebrated his own difference. Kes wanted a proper carnie funeral for Ollo. I didn’t know what that meant, but I soon learned. Once word went out about Ollo’s death, the emails and phone calls were endless, adding to the stress and frayed nerves. We had messages of

condolence from all over the world—something crazy like twenty different countries. A lot of carnies had known and loved Ollo. Many credited him with teaching them their trades. Many wanted to come to pay their respects. Ollo hadn’t left any instructions but Kes insisted that he wouldn’t want to be planted in the earth. “He spent his whole life moving, I’m not going to give him roots now.” I looked up at him with weary eyes. “That last morning, all he wanted was to take a ride on the Ferris wheel. I say we should scatter his ashes from the top.” Everyone was silent, then Zach spoke, his tone tentative. “I doubt the management at Fairplex would allow that. I’m sorry.” Kes gave him an icy look and ignored him. “Yeah, he’d like that. Then we’ll have a bonfire after the show.” Because of course, the show must go on. Zach winced, and I suspected it was because we weren’t supposed to have bonfires here either. We had a fire pit, but that wasn’t the same thing at all. Ollo’s body was laid in state in his RV, and someone sat with him at all times, as was the carnie way.

He wore the tux that had been tailor-made for him the previous year to celebrate Kes and Aimee’s wedding. Kes had washed and dressed him with his own hands, saying that Ollo wouldn’t want to be touched by strangers, especially townies. Maybe it was a final act of a friendship that had lasted Kes’s whole life, since even before he was born. It was a whole lot different from my parents’ funeral, I knew that. Their deaths had been sudden and the authorities had taken the lead from the start. Daniel had been a kid and I wasn’t much older or had any idea about what I needed to do. Our parents had been Presbyterians, although the church wasn’t a significant part of their lives. They showed up for major holidays, and both Dan and I had been baptized. Everything was simple, plain, and at the time we hadn’t cared that the undertaker had taken charge of everything. It had been a relief, just going through the motions of agreement: yes to that hymn, okay to that reading. The only personal part had been when one of my dad’s friends stood up and spoke about them. I wondered morbidly if anyone would speak at my funeral. I wasn’t planning on turning up my toes just yet, but I threw myself through the air on 200 pounds of metal for a living, so I wasn’t placing any bets either. Over the next three days, carnies arrived from

all over the States, dozens and dozens of them, several from Europe. A bunch flew out from Ireland, too, and sang sad songs and got us all halfdrunk around the fire pit.

The morning of the service, the sky was gray and overcast. The heavy air seemed to tremble and Bo was inconsolable when the hearse came to take Ollo’s small body. He cried and raged, clinging to the wicker handles, baring his teeth and shrieking. Socrates flapped around and pecked at the casket as we closed the lid, then sat at the side, deflated, and began to pluck feathers out of his chest, making another bald patch that had only recently regrown. In the end, Yolanda agreed to stay behind and took both of the miserable creatures to sit with Maverick and other dogs, forlorn and unhappy. Kes’s brother Falcon and his German wife Hilde caught an early morning flight on a supply plane out of Travis Air Force Base. Con wore his uniform to honor Ollo, because even though Con had hated the carnival, he’d loved the little man. I introduced them both to Sara, and they shook hands quietly. Then we piled in the limos that Kes had ordered, and left in a cavalcade of trucks, cars,

motorcycles, two clown cars, one miniature fire engine, and four riders on horseback. The funeral was attended by more than 300 carnies. The crematorium was packed out and many more people were standing in the parking lot. They’d even had to wire up a PA system so everyone outside could hear. Many of the carnies came wearing their show costumes: the clown troupe with their painted faces; the rodeo riders in their buckskins and western clothes; the girls from the aerial acts wore their spangles and leotards, pockets of bright color among the others in dark, somber clothes. Kes, Tucker, Zach and me were pallbearers, and Luke walked behind the miniature coffin carrying a huge wreath of flowers in the shape of a Ferris wheel. The service was almost interrupted when a TV crew arrived. I guess it made a nice little filler story —carnies all dressed up at a midget’s funeral. Or maybe they’d be politically sensitive and say ‘person of limited stature’ or some bullshit. I don’t know who’d tipped them off, maybe someone at the funeral home for all I knew. Kes was furious and looked like he was about to rip out a throat, but as always, Aimee calmed him down with just a touch of her hand on his arm. Sara gave me a questioning look as I took my place next to her on the seat.

I jerked my head in the TV crew’s direction and she gave a sort of horrified hiccup, and scooted down next to me, hiding from the cameras. I reminded her quietly that she didn’t have to hide anymore, and put my arm around her, holding her protectively. When Kes stood up and strode to the microphone at the front of the crematorium, everyone grew silent. “Oleksandr Ivan Kolksi was born in Vienna in the years before the Second World War. His father was a Lithuanian Jew and worked as a locksmith. He never knew his mother. Well, you all know what happened to Jews during the War or to anyone who was different. So Ivan Kolski escaped to America with his only son, Ollo. “America was being flooded with immigrants running from Hitler, and there was no room at the inn for a Lithuanian locksmith who didn’t speak English. They struggled for months until one day a stranger told Ivan Kolski that he and his son could make a living with the traveling carnival. That man was my great grandfather, Padraig Donohue. “Ollo learned all the skills of a carnie kid: tumbling, clowning, mentalism, rodeo and looking after exotic animals. For a while he worked with the famous Ada Mae Moore the Snake Charmer and traveled with Ringling Brothers; he had a tumbling act with Ronald Soaker, the Pig-faced

Man; and learned his craft from everyone he met. He was a magician and a master showman.” Kes paused, looking across at his audience who hung on his every word. “He was also a grifter who could con the pants off a politician.” The congregation laughed and I had to hand it to Kes, he knew out to work a crowd. “I thought I knew everything about Ollo, but there was something else. When my wife looked up the meaning of ‘Oleksandr’, do you know what she found? His name means ‘defender of humankind’. I happen to think that’s pretty damn perfect, because Ollo suffered more from humanity than any one person should. To the point where he refused to leave the carnival for any reason—he preferred the company of other carnies. Trusted them. And the man loved his freaks. It didn’t matter what sort of freak you were: hair all over your body, weird tumors, weighing 700 pounds, fire eater, human ostrich, or even crazy sons of bitches who threw themselves through the air on motorcycles—we were his people. And he cared about us. He loved the carnival his whole life, everything about it. And he taught me all the skills to make it, but most of all he taught me friendship and he taught me love. He was the kindest human being I ever met. “For a small guy, there was a lot about Ollo that was special. So here’s to you, buddy. May the lights never dim, may the Wheel never stop turning, may

the ride never end. To Ollo.” As we left the crematorium, I noticed an elderly white haired lady sitting at the back. Something about her caught my eye, I couldn’t say exactly what it was, maybe because she looked so different from everyone else, with her silk suit and the string of pearls at her neck, or maybe because tears ran unchecked down her crumpled cheeks. A younger woman, maybe about Sara’s age, sat with her holding her hand. I looked at them curiously as I walked past, and the younger woman met my eyes, worry and grief etched in hers. I paused, letting the other mourners filter past me. “Are you friends of Ollo?” “Um, Gran used to know him,” said the girl. “A long time ago, I think. I didn’t know . . .” She bit her lip, wondering what to say, but in my heart, I already knew. I sat down next to them, leaving an empty chair between us. “Are you Jeanie?” The older woman gasped and looked up. “You know me?” I shook my head, a sad smile on my face. “No, but one day Ollo told me a story about a girl from Boise, Jeanie with the light brown hair.” “Oh my! Oh my! I didn’t think anyone would

know. I didn’t think he’d ever mention my name. I was so cruel to him! I didn’t mean to be, but I wasn’t strong, not like he was. I thought he’d hate me!” I remembered the night Ollo had told me about his townie girl, and the look on his face when he spoke of her. “No, Ollo didn’t hate you. I think he always loved you. And he understood.” She looked up at me, speechless, and then collapsed into her granddaughter’s arms. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.” She’d been too scared to give up her life to travel with Ollo, but I was glad she’d come to say goodbye. Ollo had forgiven her long ago. I wondered if she’d finally be able to forgive herself.

We broke every H&S regulation invented to build the highest bonfire we could. Ollo deserved that. It was the craziest night with every kind of act you can imagine: acrobats, jugglers, knife-throwers, contortionists, a weird hippy dude who could regurgitate anything you gave him to swallow, clowns, rodeo artists, a lion tamer from Murmansk who barely spoke English, and a good many of the people who worked at Fairplex.

Kes brought out his fire-breathing torches for a display, and one of the pros demonstrated fireeating that gave me chills and gut-ache at the same time. Luke played his guitar and other musicians joined in, including one old guy who brought out a battered trumpet, playing the kind of New Orleans jazz that you hear at funerals in that part of the south. The security guards were on edge, but there were more of us than there were of them. Finally, Kes doused his torches, and the mood sombered immediately. It was time. “I’m going to the top of the Ferris wheel.” Zach sighed at Kes’s words, but he didn’t look surprised either. Kes collected four of the huge torches that we used for our act, passing one each to me, Tucker and Zach, and we carried them in a procession along the midway, hundreds of carnies following us. Two of the security guards watched in disbelief, but only one of them was stupid enough to try and stop us, refusing to give Kes the key to the Ferris wheel’s control room. Ever since I’d taken Ollo up there the night he’d died, security and regulations had been tightened. “I’m going to call the police!” yelled the guard,

casting worried glances at the crowd of hard-faced carnies surrounding him. “Don’t be a dumbass, dude,” Tucker said casually, as he and I took an arm each, holding him easily. Kes could have taken the key and started up the buckets, but that wasn’t how he wanted to do this. He’d known Ollo from the day he was born, and climbing the Ferris wheel was his final tribute. In silence, Kes grabbed the small box containing Ollo’s ashes and started climbing up the metal skeleton of the central pin. Aimee clasped her hands around Bo who was hiding his face in her hair, scared of the flickering torches. Sara put her arms around her, holding them both, while Socrates perched mournfully on her shoulder. “Oh God! I can’t watch!” Aimee whispered, turning her head away and scrunching up her eyes. “Tell me when he gets to the top.” I held the security guard firmly as he bitched and complained, and watched Kes climb higher and higher, his dark clothes blending into the night. At the highest point, Kes stood on one of the cross beams, then released the ashes, and we watched them disappear into the night. Kes yelled as loud as he could. “Always free!” And our shouts echoed through the night as we

honored Ollo with a final farewell. “ALWAYS FREE!”

Life goes on. That’s what they say, isn’t it? What about, Time heals all wounds? Or maybe, One step at a time. At some point over the next few weeks I heard all of them. And I hated every time someone said it. The big wigs on the Fairplex board wanted to fine Kes for climbing the Ferris Wheel to scatter Ollo’s ashes. Zach wasn’t worried about that one— he said they’d step away eventually because of the potential for negative publicity. You know, giant corporation deny dying man’s last wishes, that kind of headline. We’re carnies, we know how to put a spin on things. Ollo would have laughed. We all missed him. He’d been important to each of us in many different ways. I was surprised and touched to find that he’d left his RV to me. I wasn’t sure I should accept it because we’d all pitched in to buy it for him in the first place, but Kes pointed that out that with my family growing, I’d need a place of my own. My family. So I took the keys to Ollo’s RV and in between rehearsals and shows, set about undoing all the adaptations that had made it suitable for Ollo.

Sara and I moved in as soon as the last full height cabinet was installed in the kitchen. It felt good to have our own place. The first thing we did was christen the bed. Although we christened pretty much everywhere else, too. Hormones were making her as horny as hell, and I was reaping the benefits. I soon found that we’d inherited something else, as well. Socrates seemed to prefer our RV above any of the others, and so it was in our living room that we found him most mornings, perched on a chair back calling for his breakfast. He also spent most of the days following Sara around while she was filming, sitting on her shoulder or fluttering above her head. He was a real talking point with the kids and adults in the fairground, and soon all the carnies knew who Sara was and that she was making a movie about the Daredevils and carnival life. Everyone wanted to be interviewed, but she pointed out that she was filming live action, not staged pieces or talking heads. After a while, they’d gotten used to her, and she caught all the quiet moments when people didn’t know they were being watched. I looked up more than once to find that she’d been filming me for several minutes and I hadn’t seen her. As long as she didn’t take the camera into the

bedroom, I was fine with that. One of Michaels’ tech guys came over and helped her set up a bigger camera to catch some of the stunt jumps. We all wore helmet-cams when we were working so that the audience could see it from our point of view, too, but she wanted to capture some different angles, as well. As we raced down the last weeks toward Thanksgiving, the nights grew cooler, and we made love with the quilt wrapped around us. Because it was love and I didn’t even want to deny it. There were so many reasons why we weren’t right for each other on paper: too old, too young, too knocked up, too damaged, too much baggage. But none of that added up to us. I wouldn’t have been human if I didn’t have doubts, and Sara felt the same way. We were working on that. I guess we’d both been let down too many times to take anything for granted. A couple of times she headed into the city in Zach’s truck to use the editing suite that Michaels had offered her, but by now she was more than six months pregnant and the drive tired her. I worried about her all the time she was away from me, even when she was in LA with Tera. I was regretting having taught her how to drive a stick shift. In the end Sara agreed with me that it was too much for her—which means I nagged her until she gave in—and Michaels sent over a mini editing

desk and a guy to teach her how to use it. She set it up in the largest of our RV’s spare bedrooms and spent a lot of hours muttering to herself as she learned the software. Mostly I was happy that she was happy; I just wished she’d relax more. She replied by pointing out that both she and Peanut were on a deadline and she wasn’t going to sit around and argue with me. But if I wanted to rub her shoulders/back/feet/legs/neck, that was just fine with her.

She finished what she called principal photography the night of our Thanksgiving farewell performance. This was always a big night for us and we pulled out all the stops to wow the crowd. Sara was busy talking to herself about camera angles, pulling focus and a bunch of shit I didn’t have a clue about. Her concentration was intense as she leaned over the camera tripod, one hand instinctively resting on her belly. She and Aimee were both in their third trimester now and spent a lot of evenings in our living area with their feet up, discussing swollen ankles, back ache and some other really doubtful

shit that I didn’t want to know. Kes was with me on that. He’d spent enough time in hospitals and wasn’t eager to discuss anything medical. Tucker, on the other hand, was fascinated, getting into deep conversations with both of them about why they were hungry all of the time but felt full after a few bites, because their uteruses were so big there was no room for their stomachs. At which point Kes told him not to discuss his wife’s innards anymore, and I had to agree with that. I thanked Ollo a thousand times for leaving us his RV because one shitter for two pregnant women didn’t work. They’d suddenly get this look on their faces and Aimee would waddle in one direction and Sara would waddle in the other, racing to get to the bathroom. Oh yeah, and neither of them liked the word waddling. I spent a night sleeping in the rig after making that observation. One good thing was that Michaels kept his word. Sara was paid some money in advance for her work—nothing like the money that Cassie Christie had mentioned, since there were a bunch of costs involved, but still, she had her own money now and was able to start buying some of the things she wanted for Peanut. As is turns out, there is a shit ton of stuff a baby

needs. The little dude wasn’t even born and he was taking up more closet space than me. Aimee knew what it was like to have scary big debts, so she kept a lid on her spending and gently discouraged Sara from buying some of the more useless shit. She was also more used to living in an RV and knew that space was at a premium. Sara filled all the space she could find—there was stuff everywhere. But if I wanted to eat at the table and sleep in my own bed, I didn’t mention it. Aimee was kind of grumpy that she wasn’t getting much help in preparing Thanksgiving dinner for us, but we were all crazy busy. Tera came out to help her, so that calmed things down a little. Aimee was three weeks further on than Sara and just huge—like scary, enormous big. She looked about ready to burst with four weeks still to go. With two pregnant ladies and Kes still and always a teetotaler, me staying on the soda, and Tucker driving to Tera’s house later, only Zach, Luke and Tera were even thinking about drinking. If Ollo had been there, he’d have cracked open a bottle of Scotch. Without him, it was certainly a much more sober Thanksgiving than we’d ever had before. I guess we were all growing up. Tucker, Luke and I cleaned up after, then Luke was persuaded to get out his guitar for a few songs

before we all opted for an early night. Tomorrow we were starting at dawn. Sara lay in my arms, warm and soft, her eyelids drooping. “That was a really great Thanksgiving,” she sighed softly. “No one argued and everyone pitched in. You don’t know how lucky you are.” But I did. I really did.

The next day, we said goodbye to the other carnies, promising to see them next summer, then packed up and headed out on the journey north. Normally we’d make the twelve or thirteen hour journey in one jump, but with Sara and Aimee tired and uncomfortable all of the time, we’d decided to split it into two, and spend overnight near Petaluma. Con and Hilde were going to drive over and have dinner with us. It was a tiring day as we didn’t have enough drivers to share the miles. Aimee was too big to get behind the wheel safely, and Sara didn’t have the experience and wasn’t much smaller either. Tera had taken a couple of days off work to help, but it still meant that I didn’t get a break from driving the rig. I didn’t mind. For most of the journey, Sara curled up on the seat next to me with Socrates. He

had his own cage, but he rarely used it. Damn bird seemed to think he was a cat. It was a relief to reach Petaluma. The campsite was a decent sized lot surrounded on two sides by sprawling Cork Oaks, and cows grazing in open fields next to us. We pulled into our assigned spot and I sat for a moment, my muscles locked in place after too many hours of driving. “You okay, babe?” Sara asked, carefully placing a sleeping Socrates on the seat next to her and leaning across for a kiss. “Babe?” I grimaced. “Not sure I’m the kind of guy who answers to babe.” “Sure you are,” she smiled. “You just don’t know it yet.” She was such a different woman from the kid I’d met five months ago. She’d grown into herself and blossomed, with confidence in the way she held herself and her voice. Most of the changes could be credited to the work she’d done on our movie, but I was happy to steal a little of it for myself, too. I groaned as I climbed out of the truck, favoring my left leg as I limped around to help her climb out. “Maybe I should be helping you, old man,” she laughed. “I might just have to put you over my knee for making a crack like that,” I grumbled.

“If there was room for my ginormous stomach, I’d say go for it,” she winked at me. Then she leaned closer. “If you think you can rise to the occasion, I want to be on top tonight.” “You’re on top every night!” I called after her as she headed for our RV, which Tera had been driving. It was true, but only because it was the most comfortable position for her. Although I couldn’t complain about having those fantastic tits in my face as we fucked. Con and Hilde arrived while we were pulling out the folding table we ate at and some chairs. Their arms were piled high with bags full of Thai curry, since both Aimee and Sara were craving spicy food. “We’ve got an announcement to make,” said Con, grinning around at us. “He impregnated me,” Hilde said in her usual direct way. “I thought I was going to tell them,” Con muttered. “You were taking too long,” she shrugged. “I need food.” I grinned as Kes slapped Con on the back, then shook his hand. Tera, Sara and Aimee all converged on Hilde, hugging her and offering congratulations, bumping stomachs and laughing in the process. “I’m feeling kind of left out!” Tera pouted.

“Maybe I should let you impregnate me, Tucker.” “Anytime you want, sugar, just say the word! Do you wanna practice now?” Tera threw him a speculative look, then shook her head. “Nah, I’m too hungry, but save that thought for later.” “So, another pilot in the family, Hilde?” asked Aimee. Hilde spoke through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps. Or maybe she’ll run away to join the circus. Maybe I will join her.” “Yeah?” said Con, raising his eyebrows. “And what are you planning to do in the circus?” Hilde threw him a look. “Lion tamer.” He choked on a mouthful of rice. “You think?” “Sure,” she shrugged. “I am already cocktamer.” We laughed and talked and ate, and yeah, we were a family. A crazy, unmatched, sprawling mess of friends who’d become more. I was good with that.

When we rolled into Arcata the following night, it wasn’t what I’d expected. For one thing, it should have been dark and empty, but instead it was strung

with lights and a large banner in foot-high letters read, Welcome Home! Bemused, I helped Sara out of the rig and got the crap hugged out of me by Rhonda Reynolds, owner of the carnival we traveled with in the summer, and her husband Dan who came and slapped me on the shoulder. “It’s great to see you guys. I thought you were wintering in Arkansas?” Rhonda gave a sly grin. “Zach made us an offer we couldn’t refuse.” Zach jumped out of his RV, a smug smile on his face. “We knew you were on a tight schedule, my friend, so . . . walk this way.” I glanced at the others and saw that everyone was in on the secret, whatever it was. “Seriously, what the fuck?” “Dude, one foot in front of the other—it’s how you walk!” Tucker laughed. Sara held my hand, staring up at me quizzically, but I shook my head. I had no clue what was going on. After a minute, I realized that we were heading in the direction of the plot I’d chosen to build my cabin. But as we approached, my stomach somersaulted. Rising out of the twilight was a beautiful, ranch-style home, complete with wrap-around

porch. I stood, speechless, as my throat ached and my eyes began to burn. Kes laid a hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes we all need a hand, Zef, and you’ve been there for me ever since I’ve known you. Everyone pitched in, plus Daniel and Lisanne wanted to help out, too. Tera is the project manager and she’s been flying here every other weekend all summer, and we called in some favors. Dan and Rhonda have been out here supervising the work since Labor Day. It’s ready for you to move into. You, Sara, and Peanut.” Sara squeezed my hand as I continued to stand there, wordless, my heart racing. “Go take a look,” Kes said quietly. Sara gave me a watery smile and tugged on my hand. I stepped up onto the deck and pushed the wooden stable-style door open. Inside was a modern, open-plan kitchen dining-living room, already furnished, and with huge picture windows facing the ocean. I could hear the waves in the distance and the rustle of the breeze as it swept lightly across the desert fig trees shading one corner of the house. On the walls, photos of the Daredevils in action had been framed and hung, all Sara’s work; there was another picture of me with Dan and our

parents; and there were several of Sara and me together. I pushed open another door and saw a king-size bed, already made up with new linen. Next to it was a small wooden cradle, with a pale yellow blanket. I reached down to touch it, rubbing the super soft material between my fingers. Above hung a mobile made up of miniature motorcycles. I stared around, stunned. They’d thought of every detail. “Do you like it?” Aimee asked tentatively. I nodded slowly and then I reached down and hugged her carefully, one hand still wrapped around Sara’s. I couldn’t believe that they’d done all of this for me, for us. “Thank you,” I said, my voice gruff. Then I stood up and looked at each of them standing watching me. “I owe you fuckers.” They all started laughing and Sara gave my arm a smack, presumably for bad language, as she laughed with them, happy tears pouring down her face. “Welcome home, baby mama.”

Sara and I spent our first night in our new home listening to the waves breaking on the shore below, entangled in each other’s arms. “I can’t believe they pulled it off without you knowing,” said Sara. “I feel like I’m going to wake up and find it’s all a dream. I’m almost afraid to open my eyes in case it is.” I knew what she meant. I hadn’t realized how tricky those sons-of-bitches could be—and I was including my little brother in that. I knew he must have paid out a lot of money to get the job done and so quickly. “I just don’t know how the hell I’ll ever pay them back,” I said quietly, voicing a silent fear. Sara rolled me onto my back and carefully straddled my legs. “Don’t you listen, Zef? Don’t you ever? Kes said it all—they’re paying you back. This is your family thanking you. Don’t you get that?” “I don’t know . . .” “Oh my God! You’re so wrapped up in all the bad stuff, who you were then, but that’s in the past. They value who you are now. They love you. So suck it up and instead of laying there working

yourself into a state, just man up and say thank you!” “Are you telling me off, baby mama?” “Yes, I am. Get used to it.” She kissed me hard. I didn’t think I’d have a problem getting used to that.

Sara gave her new address to her parents and two days later she got a package. There was a greeting card that said Welcome to your new home. She said that her dad had signed for her mom, but at least he’d sent it. He’d also enclosed her high school diploma and a letter saying how proud he was of her. “Seems like a lifetime ago,” she said quietly, fingering the thin card of the certificate. “Any regrets?” I asked, holding her hand and kissing the back of it. “Your beard tickles,” she laughed. “No, not really, except . . .” “What?” “I wish . . . I wish Peanut was yours. Really yours.” I could have just said that we could get married and Peanut would legally be assumed to be mine. That will solve a lot of problems down the road.

But she wasn’t ready to hear that, and she’d had to deal with so much already. “He is, Sara. In all the ways that matter, he’s mine.” “I just wish . . .” “No, don’t do that. No regrets, like you said. And I promise you, as soon as we’ve done the paternity test, we’ll be down that courtroom so fast, the adoption papers will still be coming off the printer. You got that? Peanut will never want for a father.” She gave a beaming smile. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me Joseph Connor Colton.” “Yeah, you’re a lucky woman,” I grinned at her. We headed into town that afternoon so Sara and Aimee could establish themselves at the local maternity center, the interestingly named Mad River Community Hospital. Yeah, it fit us pretty well. A doctor examined Sara and then talked over birthing options with us. Sara seemed a little overwhelmed and kept looking at me for answers, but I was almost as clueless as her. Google had let me down. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if Tucker knew this stuff already. “You’ll give me drugs, right?” Sara asked, wideeyed as the doctor began to explain in detail what

would happen at the birth. The doctor smiled and told us that all choices would be offered. I wondered if they had good drugs for the fathers as well. Frickin’ terrible time to be a recovering drug addict. “One thing I should add,” said the doctor, “Just be aware that with the sudden drop of estrogen after delivery, your libido can plummet. Also, the lining of your vagina thins out, making intercourse uncomfortable. This can be particularly true if you’re breastfeeding.” Sara’s mouth dropped open, staring in shock. “Good to know, doc,” I said. Sara didn’t say a word. We took a tour of the town while Kes and Aimee went to visit his mom who was a stroke victim and in a long-term care facility nearby. He hated going there, especially when she didn’t recognize him. It was weird to think of him as having two parents when he’d been alone so much of his life. I was determined to be present in Peanut’s life as much as possible. Well, as much as a man who traveled like I did could be. But then again, Aimee was a trained teacher—maybe we’d just travel as a family forever, coming back to our ranch house each winter. The idea didn’t suck.

Rhonda and Dan stayed another week with us before heading home to Arkansas. Their rodeo ponies were being looked after by friends, but they needed to get back to their own lives. We promised to catch up in the Spring and waved them on their way. Since all the efforts had been put into making a home for me and Sara, I threw myself into helping Luke and Zach finish off their cabin, as well as decorate the addition that Kes and Aimee had built for their kid. There was plenty of work for all of us, and Sara was still putting the finishing edits to the movie, although she refused to show it to any of us “in case it sucks”. I’d seen enough snippets to know that it was going to be amazing. We finished just in time for New Year’s Eve, and Zach and Luke hosted a party, just as they’d promised all those months ago. It wasn’t the liveliest party ever, since Tera and Tucker had gone back to LA for some alone time and away from all the baby talk, and Sara and Aimee were barely still awake at midnight. If it hadn’t been for Socrates yelling, “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!” every half-hour and waking Bo, they’d probably have already fallen asleep.

Luke and Zach were planning to go to San Francisco for a few days. Luke had only recently come out to his family and was trying to establish a tentative relationship. They’d surprised him by being more accepting than he’d expected, but it was still early days. “I’d like to propose a toast,” said Kes, holding up a champagne glass of soda. “It’s been a helluva year. We’ve lost someone special,” and he paused while we all thought of Ollo, “but we’ve gained someone special, too,” and he smiled at Sara who beamed back. “So, I’d just like to say . . .” “Oh shit!” Kes glanced at Aimee. “That’s not what I was going to say, babe.” “No . . . my water just broke.” He stared at her horror struck, then threw his glass of soda over his shoulder, sweeping her into his arms as he staggered out of the door. “You forgot the keys to the truck!” Zach yelled, running after him. I raced over to their cabin and picked up Aimee’s small suitcase that had been waiting by the door for the last two weeks, then watched as the truck’s headlights danced over the gravel road. I walked back to Zach and Luke’s cabin more slowly. Luke was mopping the floor, his face wrinkled with distaste. I averted my eyes. I didn’t really

want to look at Aimee’s ‘water’ either. “Do you think she’ll be alright?” asked Sara, wide-eyed. “Yeah, they’ll be fine,” I said, doubting I’d sound so nonchalant when it was our turn. We said goodnight to the guys, then walked slowly back to our ranch house. Sara was asleep in seconds, almost passing out with her toothbrush still in her mouth. I lay on my back, listening to the ocean, and sent up a small prayer for Kes and Aimee. At 5AM, my phone vibrated with a text message. Its a girl! I smiled to myself, turning to watch Sara’s sleeping face, glowing in the pale light of dawn. I was so ready to be a father.

By early evening the next day, Aimee came home carrying her baby daughter. It seemed kind of fast to me, but apparently that’s what happens when there are no hitches. She looked exhausted but happy. Kes couldn’t take his eyes off the baby, and spent more time holding her than Aimee did, except when she was feeding. I couldn’t get used to Aimee

whipping her tits out every couple of hours, and had to look away. I was also slightly afraid that Kes would punch me. Zach and Luke weren’t desperately happy about it either, and I saw them glancing at each other doubtfully. Kes held his daughter, awe on his face. She had a thatch of hair so thick and dark it looked as though someone had slapped a toupée on her. I didn’t mention that to Kes. But she had his eyes, those weird gray eyes with a navy blue ring around them. I’d watched him use those on chicks for years before he met Aimee again. Although I heard the doc say that babies go through eye color changes in the first few days, weeks, or months, I was pretty certain that those baby blues were here to stay. “We’re naming her Duvessa,” he said, his voice quiet as he stared down, mesmerized by his sleeping daughter. “It’s Irish,” Aimee added, love welling up in her eyes. “It means ‘dark beauty’, but we’re going to call her Dove.” Dove yawned and opened those big silver-blue eyes. I had a feeling that Dove little was going to be giving some poor first-grader a run for his money a few years down the line. And if she was anything like her dad, Kes would be getting a lot of gray

hairs once she started walking, let alone dating. Aimee’s mom and sister flew over for a couple of weeks, staying in a hotel in town. Kes wasn’t crazy happy about that, but he put up with it. He wasn’t that relaxed around regular folk, brickdwellers, and he still held a grudge against Aimee’s mom for splitting them up when they were sixteen. Sara and I stayed out of their way, enjoying spending time together, wandering around Arcata and buying a few more things for Peanut’s arrival. She was still certain that he was going to be a boy. When she’d had the chance to find out the sex, she’d decided not to. She was going to trust her intuition. I hedged my bets and tried to get her to buy clothes in neutral colors. Dan sent over a tiny Falcons’ t-shirt with his number, two, and the name Colton on it. Sara loved it, and texted Lisanne to thank them both.

A couple of days later, Kes pulled me to one side. “So, you remember I asked you to be Dove’s godfather?” “Sure, man. But if you’d rather someone else . . .” He shook his head impatiently. “Hell, no! I’ve got three brothers and I want

you all standing up with me. It’s just . . .” and he frowned deeply, “Aimee has asked her sister and Tera to be godmothers, and she wants Mirelle, too.” Obviously, I knew that Aimee still spoke to her best friend, I wouldn’t have expected anything else even after the way we’d broken up. I should have guessed that she’d want her to be there for Dove. I’d heard from Aimee that Mirelle had given birth to a little girl shortly before Thanksgiving. I might have felt a small twinge, a memory of the good times we’d shared, but it was no more than that. “I’m okay with it,” I said honestly. “She’ll be with her guy and I’m with Sara. It worked out for the best. It’s cool.” He looked relieved. “Thanks, bro. I appreciate that.” I shrugged. “We’ve all moved on. It’s not a big deal.” And it wasn’t.

“Zef! ZEF!” I woke with a start. “What?” “I think he’s coming?” “Who’s coming?” “Peanut, you idiot! Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!” Sara let out a yell so loud that she nearly perforated an eardrum. Socrates started squawking and flapping around, woken from a deep sleep and dreams of . . . sunflower seeds? I leapt out of bed, butt naked, and headed for the door. “Put some . . . [huff] . . . clothes on, you . . . [huff] douche!” Did she just call me a douche? I turned around and grabbed a pair of jeans, toed on my boots and yanked a sweater over my head. “Ready!” I grabbed her enormous suitcase that was by the door . . . and stopped. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” I’d forgotten that Luke and Zach were in San Francisco, and for the last week I’d been driving a

rental car. The keys were in the pocket of my leather jacket. I spun around, grabbed the jacket from the pile, ran out the door, and slung the suitcase in the trunk of the car. Ready. Oh shit! Not ready. “Sara!” “I’m coming, you dickhead! You nearly left me behind!” Now I was a dickhead? I got her situated in the car and peeled out of there. “Slow down!” she screamed. “Ow! OW! OWWWW!” I didn’t know if it was my wild driving across the uneven gravel, or the contractions that were making her yell, but she was l-o-u-d. We hit the main road and she screamed again. “Oh my God! Can you drive any slower? My Granny drives faster than you!” I glanced at the speedometer and watched the dial creeping toward 100mph. I put my foot down, hoping there were no coyotes or bobcats out for a stroll tonight because I had no plans to stop until I reached the hospital. “Slow down, you maniac!” she screeched. “Do you want to kill us?” I slowed to 95mph, sweat beading on my forehead in the cool January air.

She shrieked again, hands gripping her stomach, and I winced in sympathy. It was the longest ten minutes of my life, and when I spun into the space reserved for ambulances at the front of the hospital, I had sweat dripping in my eyes and my heart was beating so fast, I thought I’d have a heart attack. But at least I was in the right place. A security guard came striding over, but when he saw Sara stumbling out of the passenger door, he about-faced and jogged through the entrance, returning with a nurse in pale pink scrubs pushing a wheelchair. Her kind, calm voice soothed Sara immediately, and she collapsed into the wheelchair, her face pale and her eyes terrified. I was about to follow them inside when the security guard made me go and put the car in the parking lot. It gave me a minute to gather my thoughts. I sent a quick text to Kes in case he’d seen us racing away from the house and asked him to feed Socrates in the morning. I decided not to bother the rest of the guys until I had news. They’d all asked me to let them know as soon as Sara went into labor. Even her father. Everyone said that first babies could take their time arriving, although Dove had been in a hurry. My new sense of calm shattered when I heard

Sara’s screams echoing down the quiet corridors. It shut off so suddenly, the hairs rose on the back of my neck. But then I heard her sobbing cry and moved faster. I was intercepted by a different nurse, and shown into a room where I could change into scrubs. “Just be calm and hold her hand. Do whatever she wants, but stay calm, okay?” I jumped motorcycles for a living—of course I could stay calm. Sara screamed again and I nearly leapt out of my skin. The nurse gave me an encouraging smile and led me into the birthing suite. Sara was still yelling, her face turning purple, and I wondered if Peanut would have the same set as lungs as his mother—I could be in trouble. When she saw me, she reached out for my hand, nearly twisting it off at the wrist as she gripped it. I grimaced as her nails sank in, but remembered what the nurse said. “Stay calm, Sara. You’ll be fine.” “Oh shut the fuck up, Zef! What the fuck do you know about it? You’re not the one whose vagina is trying to pass a baby! Aaaaaaaaaagh! I am never ever having sex again. You got that? NEVER! Aaaaaaaaagh!” “They all say that,” the nurse said

sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it.” But I did worry. Sara looked so mad, I was afraid that she’d bite my dick off if I waved it anywhere near her again. I liked my dick. We’d had a lot of good times together. In any case, my balls had shriveled to the size of walnuts, and I definitely wasn’t thinking about sex while Sara swore and cussed like a twenty-year Marine veteran. I was pretty fuckin’ sure that she hadn’t heard me use half the words that were coming out of her mouth. But the nurse didn’t seem shocked. I guess she’d heard it all before, although I doubt she’d ever heard worse. But as the hours passed, Sara’s cries grew weaker and her grip on my hand was looser. Her hair was dark with sweat and her cheeks were streaked with tears. Kes and Aimee had showed up at the hospital with a sleeping Dove, and spotted me for five minutes so I could take a piss and drink a coffee. I couldn’t eat anything because fear was climbing around in my stomach like I’d swallowed a live rat, claws, teeth and tail. The nurses changed shift and a new doctor came in to ‘review the case’, his forehead creasing as he read her charts. “Is this normal?” I asked desperately. He gave me a professional smile. “Every birth

is different, Mr. Colton.” Which meant exactly fuck all. Kes and Aimee left again, promising to let everyone know what was happening. I was relieved not to have to make those calls, because I had no fuckin’ clue what I’d say. “You’re going to be okay, baby mama,” I said, wiping her hair from a face that felt clammy and feverish. Her tired eyes were dull as they turned to mine and she couldn’t even muster a smile. “Zef . . .” “Yeah, baby,” I whispered, matching my voice to hers. “You’ll look after Peanut, won’t you?” “Of course I will. What are you talking about?” “I’m so tired,” she sighed. “If anything happens to me, you’ll take care of him. Promise me?” I swallowed the rock in my throat. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Sara.” “Promise me!” she insisted, pressing my fingers as tightly as she could. “I promise, Sara. I promise. But you’re going to be fine.” Suddenly, one of the monitors that she was attached to went wild, beeping loudly. Two nurses rushed in, pushing me out of the way. “What’s going on?”

“BP’s down to 81/50.” “What’s going on?” I shouted. “The baby’s in distress,” said the other nurse. “Get Dr. Ives in here.” “Please wait outside, sir.” “But . . .” “Please, sir!” “Zef! ZEF!” They hurried me out as Sara called my name over and over desperately. My heart cracked as I pressed my hand against the closed door, trying to see what was happening through the tiny window. Minutes passed as they worked on her, and then suddenly the door flew open and they rushed by me. They were running as they pushed Sara on a hospital bed. Her face was lifeless and her eyes were closed. Blood seeped from beneath the blanket covering her. “Sara!” I choked out. She didn’t answer and no one spoke to me. I followed behind them, unable to understand the medical jargon they were spouting, knowing only that something was wrong. “What’s happening?” “We’ve got to take the baby now,” said the doctor to one of the nurses, his attention focused on Sara. “What’s happening?” I yelled, feeling as if I’d become invisible.

Outside the operating room, I was stopped by one of the nurses. “You have to wait here, sir. We’ll tell you when there’s news. Let us do our jobs.” The door swung shut, and Sara was on the other side. Numb, I slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs. Another nurse rushed past carrying packets of blood. No one spoke to me. I don’t know when he arrived, but I looked up to see Kes sitting in the next chair. “What if she doesn’t make it?” I asked, but he had no answer. Emotion dammed for too long finally burst through. I put my head in my hands and cried.

Waiting. It’s brutal. I was waiting for the woman I loved. Waiting to hear the worst, waiting to hear the best. And when I’d seen her lifeblood draining out of her, the pain in my chest felt as if my heart was ripping in two. Two more nurses ran into the operating room discussing a placental abruption, and I heard one of them place a call to Dr. Spinoza who I knew was the senior obstetrician. Kes glanced at me sideways. “I’ll find out what’s happening,” he said. I nodded, sunk into a numb, helpless nothing. Unmoving, unthinking, just whirling unfocussed images torturing me. A few minutes later, Kes came back with a doctor, her expression serious. “Mr. Colton, thank you for your patience. I’m Dr. Spinoza. Let me explain what’s happening with your partner, Sara. She’s lost a lot of blood because of a uterine rupture. This sometimes happens after a prolonged labor with a baby that’s too big for the mother’s pelvis. We’re going to perform a C-

section now to take the baby. Then Sara will need a blood transfusion and an operation to repair the uterus. But I have to tell you, Mr. Colton, if we can’t control the bleeding, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.” I couldn’t take it in. All I could think was, She’s so small. She’s too small for the baby. I heard Kes’s muttered thanks and was vaguely aware that he said he had some calls to make. I sat by myself, alone in an island of misery. I was completely helpless. There was nothing I could do. No one I could fight. Nothing I could face except the crippling fear that I could lose Sara, maybe Peanut, too. Kes reappeared and told me that he’d passed on the latest news to everyone, including Sara’s parents and my brother. I wasn’t sure she’d want them here, but if they were prepared to come, I think she’d like to see them if she was able to. If, if, if. An hour later, a nurse in pale blue scrubs stood in front of me to say that Sara had given birth to a baby boy. He was being checked over, but everything looked good and I could see him shortly. Little Peanut—he was strong. Please, make Sara strong, too. Then her face became more serious. Sara was still in the OR, and I had the absurd thought that she’d never liked being the center of attention. I

thought how she’d hate all of this. “Can we see the baby?” It was Kes who asked. I felt an irrational surge of anger at Peanut for putting Sara through this, and then I felt guilty. “I’ll find someone to take you,” she said, her voice professional, her eyes understanding. A short while later, another nurse appeared and told me to follow her. Kes came with me, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. She led me to a narrow room with a glass wall and pointed to a tiny crib on the right. “There he is. Would you like to hold him?” There was a short pause then Kes said, “Yeah, he would.” The nurse smiled and collected the soft bundle, carefully placing it my arms. The weight was nothing, and I wondered how something so small could cause so much trouble. “A healthy baby boy, Mr. Colton. He weighs 8lb 8oz, and because he was born by C-section, he has a perfectly shaped head, too.” I nodded. “You’re lucky, bro,” Kes whispered as I peered down at the red, wrinkled face. “Dove had a real pointy head for a few days. Aimee was worried that she’d have to wear hats for the rest of her life.” I didn’t smile. It all seemed so far away.

I peered into the creased little bundle and watched with amazement as Peanut opened his round, toothless mouth and mewed like a kitten. “That means he’s hungry,” said the nurse. “Would you like to feed him?” I couldn’t believe that I was the one this little dude had to rely on till his mama was better. It seemed like an enormous responsibility, and I swallowed hard. I nodded, and she showed me how to situate Peanut along my arm, and hold the bottle in my free hand. I’d had some practice with Dove, so it wasn’t too hard. The nurse smiled. “Well done! You’re a natural.” A surge of pride swept over me. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could be a father after all. Because Peanut needed me, and until I’d met Sara, I hadn’t felt needed for a very long time. Love. That’s what I felt for this tiny human being. Pure love. And paralyzing fear that would probably last a lifetime, as well. “I wish Ollo could see him.” Those were the first words I said, and Kes smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know. Ollo loved kids. He was great when I was growing up.” Peanut sucked on the bottle with a surprisingly strong suction, draining most of the bottle of

formula. Which then got spit up over my arm. “Welcome to fatherhood,” grinned Kes. “He needs his mother,” I replied. Kes had nothing to say to that, but stroked his finger across Peanut’s downy cheek. Two hours later, Sara was out of surgery. “We were able to repair her uterus,” said the doctor with a tired smile. “But for any future pregnancies, she’ll need a repeat C-section. Try not to worry, she’s going to make a full recovery.” I thanked the doctor and felt like the fog in my brain was finally lifting. “Can I see her?” “Give us a few minutes to get her situated, and then you can both see her.” At first I thought she meant me and Kes, but then I realized that she was talking about Peanut. “Hey, buddy, let’s go find your mama so you can say hi.” It was nearly another hour before we were allowed to see her. She was laying in a hospital bed with the metal sides raised. I had to swallow back the memories of being in prison—it was too similar, and my stomach flipped over. She was deathly pale and so still. Fuck, she didn’t even look like she was breathing! Her eyes were closed as I sat down next to her, but when Peanut let out a quavering wail, she turned her head to look at us.

“Hey, beautiful! Look who’s come to see you!” She turned her head away again. I didn’t know what that meant. I kept waiting for her to look at us, but she didn’t. What was going on? I edged around the bed so she could see us. “He’s amazing, Sara,” I said encouragingly. She gave a weary, cynical laugh. “I couldn’t even get that right either, could I?” Fear rippled through me, a crack on the face of my fragile happiness. “What do you mean?” “Couldn’t even give birth properly. Women have been doing it for millions of years, but not me.” “Sara, don’t. It’s fine. You’re fine, Peanut’s fine. He’s healthy and you’ll be okay. Do you want to see him?” Tears spilled from her eyes. “Go away, Zef.” “What?” Her voice rose to a scream. “Go away! Leave me alone!” Peanut let out an answering wail, and a nurse hurried in, quietly telling us we should go. “But . . .” “It’s best for now if you just go,” the nurse said firmly. A sliver of ice cut through my heart.

Kes was waiting outside the room, and I could see from the look on his face that he’d heard everything. “Give her time, man,” he said. “She’s been through a lot.” I’d been awake thirty hours, and the nurses were trying to make me go home. I didn’t want to leave without seeing Sara again, but they insisted that she needed complete rest. And while Peanut was doing well, because he was born via C-section, he’d have to stay in the hospital for 72 hours minimum. Besides, Sarah hadn’t said if she wanted him to be circumcised and I hadn’t thought to ask. There was so much to think about. I stayed at the hospital, holding Peanut while he slept, leaving only for an hour so I could get a shower and change my clothes. I was sitting in Sara’s room, keeping Peanut entertained while she slept with her back to us. He was making random swipes at my finger, which he seemed to find pretty darn fascinating. I wondered what the world looked like to him. He seemed laidback for the most part, only getting stressed when I tried to get Sara to hold him. I didn’t push it, but it scared the hell out of me. The doc and nurses said it would take time. It worried me that Sara was behaving so differently from Aimee. But then again, Aimee had an easy birth. Aimee hadn’t nearly died.

I closed my eyes, trying to banish those memories. I heard a soft tapping at the door and Sara’s dad walked in, followed by her mom. “Sara’s sleeping,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she sure didn’t want anyone to know that. I had to respect her need for silence. For now. I stood up, carrying Peanut me so we could talk in the corridor. “Come and meet your grandson,” I said. Sara’s dad peered at the bundle in my arms, his worried expression softening. He prodded Peanut in the stomach gently. I don’t know what he was trying to do, but Peanut objected loudly. It made me think he hadn’t been the most hands-on father. Or maybe he was just out of practice. “For goodness sake, Nathan!” Sara’s mom said sharply, shaking her head. Without asking, she took Peanut from my arms and rocked him efficiently. “Sara was an ugly baby, too,” she said thoughtfully. My spine stiffened. “Be careful what you say about my son,” I said quietly, a soft menace in my voice. Her eyes snapped up and I thought she was going to argue, but Sara’s dad cut her off. “And then she turned out beautifully,” he said

with a lingering smile of regret. “How is she?” I shook my head, my shoulders sagging. “Physically, she’s doing okay . . .” “And . . .” I met his eyes. “She’s scared shitless about being a mom. She’s convinced herself that she can’t do it. Right now . . . I’m pretty lost here. But I’m not going anywhere.” He gripped my shoulder. “Thank you for everything. Thank you for being here.” “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”

Sara struggled to feed Peanut, her stress fueling his. In the end, the doctor suggested that she express some milk instead. What was this? Some sort of weird-ass Dairy Queen? A Boob Blizzard? Yeah, maybe not. Sara wouldn’t let me in the room while she pumped for her son, and she didn’t want to feed him either. I couldn’t work out if she was in too much pain, or afraid of dropping him, or just terrified of being a mom. Probably a little of each. For now, the best compromise was me feeding Peanut in her room while she watched us, her expression withdrawn and sullen.

Her mom was more helpful than I’d expected, and something about her impersonal, bustling efficiency put Sara at ease. I began to think that with everyone telling her how much she’d love Peanut, that it was just adding to her worries in case she didn’t. I knew she loved Peanut because otherwise she wouldn’t have been so scared. But I tried to take the pressure off by copying Sara’s mom—not a sentence I ever thought I’d say. Sara’s parents checked into the same Arcata hotel as Aimee’s mom, and more recently, her sister and nephew, although Sara’s mom seemed to spend most of her time complaining about the lack of clothing stores in Arcata. The grandparents got along pretty well, although I think Sarah’s parents were surprised to find that Aimee had a ‘normal’ family as well as her carnie family. Whatever. If it eased things for them. Three days later, the doc decided Peanut was well enough to come home but Sara needed to stay another couple of days. Kes drove us back with bottles of breast milk like some freaky as fuck milkman. He wanted me to come and stay with Aimee and Dove, but I decided to go home. And besides, Tucker and Tera had arrived if I needed backup. And the grandparents were ten minutes away. Great. I set my phone to wake every two hours to feed

Peanut, but as it turned out, I didn’t need an alarm —the little dude had a powerful set of lungs, just like his mother. Nathan and Norah visited with us. Yeah, we were on first name basis by then. It was a little awkward, but they cared about Sara in their own controlled way, and they cared about Peanut, so for everything else, I’d give them a pass. When Peanut and I visited the hospital the next day, I wore one of those papoose things that Sara had bought. It took me a while to figure out how it worked, but once I got the hang of it, it was pretty cool. I was so tired that I fell asleep in the chair next to Sara. When I woke up a few minutes later, she was staring at Peanut, and he was gripping her finger tightly in his little fist. It was the first time she’d willingly touched him, and my heart gave a hopeful lurch. Her eyes met mine. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I know. So am I.” “Really? Because you look so . . .” “Believe me, Sara. I’m freakin’ terrified.” I’d already started adjusting my tendency to swear around the little bundle. I didn’t want him picking up any of my bad habits. “He’s so tiny.” “Yeah, he is.” “I’m afraid . . . that I’ll do it wrong.”

“You will. And so will I. I already have.” I wondered if I should tell her about the diaper disaster we’d had earlier when Peanut managed to get covered in green-colored shit. “Every parent gets it wrong sometimes, but we’ll be okay. We’ll help each other. I promise.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t do it! I can’t!” Her words tugged at my heart and I glanced down at Peanut’s face. “Look how tightly he’s holding onto you. Little dude has a strong grip.” She blinked and looked at the way he tugged on her finger. “Yeah,” she whispered softly. “He’s strong. Like his mama.” She shook her head and I saw the panic start to rise in her eyes again. “I’m not! I’m not strong! All of this . . . it terrifies me.” “Hey, hey! Sara, you’re the strongest woman I know. You kept him safe for nine months when the world was a big and scary place. You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out together.” Tears trembled at the corner of her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.” “No, you don’t. You deserve someone a helluva lot better, but I guess you’ll have to put up with my

sorry ass now, because me and Peanut have a deal.” She gave a watery smile. “You do?” “Yep, but I can’t tell you ‘cause it’s guy talk.” “Is that right?” she smiled tearfully. “Do you think maybe you’d like to hold him now?” Worry creased her forehead, and I held my breath. “I might drop him.” “If you do, I’ll catch him. Or he’ll bounce. One or the other.” “Zef!” She gave a soft giggle and then I placed Peanut in her arms, and a look of wonder spread across her face. Which is how her parents found us an hour later. “Oh, sweetheart!” and her mom carefully gathered the new mother and son into her arms. Nathan Weiss shook my hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

Two days later, Sara came home. It wasn’t exactly the celebration we’d imagined, but it was a start,

our new life. For the first several days, she was weak and lightheaded and wasn’t allowed to get out of bed unless I was there. She had to rest, drink plenty of fluids and eat nutritious meals. Luckily, I had help with that, not being much of a cook, although I was actually a lot better than Sara. She’d also been given some iron tablets to help boost her recovery. Tera made a load of meals with green stuff in it, which she said was important because they contained iron. Thank God Tucker was helping her because at least he could find a way to make it edible, too. Aimee was in and out of our kitchen, as well, but with her own newborn to look after, she tired quickly and either I walked her back to the cabin, or Kes came and took her home. Sarah’s mom found a grocery store and a deli in town and stocked our cupboards as if we were planning a year-long siege. I guess she didn’t cook either. “Mom! I do know how to fry an egg!” Sara snapped when her mom tried to take over in the kitchen. “I’m just trying to help, darling.” “No, you’re not! You’re interfering!” I was on full alert, expecting Norah to hit back, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. But I

honestly was just trying to help. I worry about you.” “Because you think I can’t cope!” Norah took a tentative step forward and put her arms around Sara’s tense shoulders. “You’re coping beautifully, darling. I’m so proud of you. I . . . I know I don’t say it very often . . .” “Or ever . . .” “I deserve that . . . but I am. Your father . . . both of us . . . we’re so proud of you. And . . . we love you very much.” I quietly grabbed Peanut and tiptoed out of the kitchen while they both shed some tears. I think they’d needed that for a while now. Nathan gave me a quick smile and nodded his head. They stayed another week, getting to know their grandson and repairing their relationship with Sara some. When they left, it was with promises to come again soon and a standing invitation to visit Missoula. I thought it be some time before we went back there. It took a little while, but gradually Sara started becoming more confident around Peanut. We learned together that yeah, babies are really slippery when they’re wet, and yeah, they shit more than you’d think was humanly possible. Sometimes the little dude was leaking both ends at the same

time. It’s amazing how much gross stuff you can get used to. Socrates was fascinated by Peanut. We’d been cautious, introducing them carefully to each other, but it soon became clear that we’d inherited a guard parrot. Every time a stranger came near, or even Sara’s dad, Socks would yell his head off, shouting, “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!” He liked to stand on the edge of Peanut’s crib and peer in. And you know what, that crazy lil bag of feathers learned to rock the crib when Peanut started to cry. I swear, we didn’t teach him to do it, but after watching us a few times, he started doing it by himself. Kes and Aimee tried to borrow him for babysitting duties, but he’d stay all of five minutes before flying back to us. Since Peanut and Dove seemed to enjoy being snuggled up together, we’d often put them down for naps in the same crib. Bo took a little longer to get used to not being the youngest one anymore. He was quickly bored with both Dove and Peanut, since all they did was eat, sleep and shit, and wouldn’t play with him. But he liked them when they were quiet and would often join them—then we’d find two human babies and Bo’s furry body all curled up together, with Socks on duty. If that isn’t the definition of a carnie family, I don’t know what is.

A week after coming home, Sara began moving around by herself. She was still stiff and sore, but definitely doing better, and smiling all of the time. And that’s when I knew we were going to be okay. Not that I thought for a second it would be easy, but we had each other, and we had our son. But there was something else that I did care about. Since we didn’t need a paternity test for legal reasons like child support or custody, I had hoped that we could order an at-home DNA paternity test, but it turned out that because of the likely high similarity between Liam’s DNA and Owen’s, it needed to be done by a registered clinic. Sara hated doing it, but she needed to be able to tell Peanut who his biological father was one day. Fuckin’ sucked. Owen was quick to send in his swab and the result came back with a ‘probability of paternity 35%’. Owen wasn’t Peanut’s father. It took a lot longer to chase Liam down, but in the end he complied and the results came back: 99.9% probability of paternity. I didn’t know how to feel about that and neither did Sara. In the end, she decided to tell Owen first. I was pacing in the other room as Sara made the call. “I thought you’d want to know, you’re not the

father. No, I’m sure. No . . . no . . . it’s Li—it’s your dad’s.” She took a long stuttering breath and added, “I’m sorry.” I strode into the room as the phone slid from her hand. “It’s okay, Sara,” I held her tightly and kissed her forehead as she clung to me. “It’s okay.” “He was so . . . so . . . cold,” she sighed shakily, and I hated Owen even more for being such a dick. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t think . . . well, I guess I’d better phone Liam with the good news,” she said, her face twisting. “I’ll do it for you.” “No . . . I should do it.” She picked up the phone again and dialed. As our nerves began to shred, he answered on the tenth ring. “Liam, the test came back positive . . . yes. I don’t want to make trouble for you, Liam . . . yeah, well, you deserved that . . . no, look . . . I’m sorry about Tilly and . . . I am . . . I don’t want to fight with you. I’m emailing you some papers . . . no, listen! Zef wants to legally adopt him. He wants to be the father—he already is. The papers explain the termination of rights. All you need to do is sign on the dotted line and that’s it. You never have to see me or Peanut again. Ever.”

The silence stretched out and I found it hard to breathe. Finally, she yelled, “Fuck you!” and tossed her phone onto the table. Peanut started crying and I immediately went to him. But Sara pushed past me, gathering him into her arms and pressing her cheek against his, as if she was drawing strength from his softness and sweetness, his touch soothing her. “How’d it go?” I asked, taking him expertly from her arms while she unbuttoned the front of her shirt and pulled out a boob. She winced slightly as Peanut started sucking, and my balls hid, traumatized by the pain I could see on her face. I was beginning to think the kid was born with teeth, and I could testify to the fact that those gums of his had a pretty strong grip. Sara shrugged when I mentioned Liam, but I could see the hurt on her face. “Pretty much what I’d expected. He doesn’t want anything to do with Peanut. He’ll sign the papers.” She took a shuddering breath. “And even if he didn’t, the lawyer told us his rights will be terminated if he doesn’t come forward to actively object.” She laughed mirthlessly. “So there’s no chance of that.” Yeah, the lawyer had told us that, but until those papers were signed, until it was irrevocable

that Liam wanted nothing to do with Peanut, I didn’t believe it would happen. If we would’ve gotten married, I would legally be assumed to be the father so there would’ve been no process, but I wanted to do it right, not in a rush or in any way that could make her I think I didn’t want her for her. She was still struggling with being a mother—I didn’t need to add to her stress right now. When we arrived at Arcata’s courtroom that cold, gray February morning, I’d half-expected to see Liam there. Even knowing that he’d signed the papers, I thought he might come to see the kid he’d fathered, just once. But he didn’t. Maybe it was better that way, but it made me want to punch him. I decided holding Peanut was a safer bet because he’d keep my fists out of trouble. Gently, I took the soft bundle from Sara’s arms and she threw me a questioning look. I just shook my head and she raised her eyebrows, then smiled at me and my boy. Peanut was sleeping soundly. His cheeks were flushed and the dusting of light brown hair stuck to his skull in the overheated courtroom. I was probably underdressed for a formal occasion, but my jeans were clean and oil-stain free, and my plaid shirt wasn’t missing a single button. Sara sat next to me, smiling down at Peanut. She was also wearing jeans, and a light cotton

jacket that she told me was smart-casual. But it irritated me that I couldn’t completely hate Liam either, because he’d given us Peanut. Jeez, we were really going to have to begin using his real name, sooner rather than later, or he’d start thinking that he’d been born into a family of nuts. The judge greeted us all, then questioned Sara, making sure she understood her rights as well as the rights he was terminating on Liam’s behalf. I was questioned, too, so the judge knew that I understood my rights, what I was signing up to. Hell yeah, I knew! Then the documents were signed and witnessed, and that was it. I’d jumped through all the hoops for the social worker, and guess I’d passed with flying colors. I’d proven financial ability, survived a psych evaluation and homestudy, and even gotten through the criminal background check since I hadn’t reoffended and been leaving clean. I was legally Peanut’s father. Sara looked down at Peanut and across at me, and although her expression was a little sad, her lips curved upwards. “Guess this is it,” she said, a small smile on her face. “Guess it is.” “Are you ready?” “Yeah, I’m ready to be Peanut’s dad for real.” She smiled up at me.

“You don’t need a piece of paper for that, Zef. You’re the one who was there when he was born; you were the first person to hold him; you’re the one who gets up and feeds him in the night; you’re the one who changes his diapers; and you’re the one who tells him stories about the carnival. You’re his daddy. His real daddy.” I pressed my lips against hers, then bent down to kiss Peanut’s forehead. It was true. I already felt like a father—a piece of paper was just the legal icing on the cake. I signed my name with a flourish and stood up, the proud, legal father of a six-week old baby boy. Next stop was the nearest tattoo parlor—I had two new names to add to my ink.

As time passed and the babies grew bigger and stronger, the real world began to re-enter our lives. No Limit had finished the final edits that Sara had asked for, added the titles at the start and end of the movie, and were gearing up for an early release. They seemed confident, but we’d learned that production companies make an art out of looking confident even when they know that they’ll be peddling a piece of shit. Not that I thought Sara’s work would be bad, but she was freaking out with nerves. She’d barely slept the night before the first screening for teams from No Limits, KTM and the rest of us. Public screentests were scheduled to start next week which, we were told, would be the real test. When I saw the number of people crowded into the small screening room at No Limits head office, I began to appreciate how many people had worked on the movie. For so long, it had felt like Sara operating alone, but there were a ton of technical people that she greeted as we walked in, then marketing employees, many of whom she’d been emailing but hadn’t met, and twelve people from

KTM including Cassie Christie. Sara hadn’t allowed any of us to see the final edit, and that included me. She said she wanted to see my real reaction when I was watching it. I called bullshit on that—she was just really scared. But I didn’t say anything. I’d realized that relationships are built on honesty and carefully selected lies: both were important, both had their place. Besides, I’d seen a few pieces of video and thought it looked damn good, but I was nervous because she was. I wanted it to be amazing for her sake. She’d worked so hard. But as Michaels was fond of saying, Even assholes don’t plan to make a bad movie. Talking of assholes . . . Michaels came over to shake hands with us and kiss Sara on the cheek. He didn’t linger, which was just as well. Peanut and Dove had both been fed earlier in the hope that they’d sleep through the whole event. I wasn’t holding my breath, but that was the plan. I also suspected that if the sound engineer turned up the volume on the surround-sound, it might possibly drown out the noise of two screaming babies, or a military heavy-lift helicopter taking off, which was a similar volume. Possibly. But I was wrong about the music. As the opening credits scrolled down the screen, the music was gentle, almost introspective, definitely not

what I’d been expecting. Unlike most of these types of adrenaline movies—stunt movies—instead of pounding rock music, she’d used something classical, filming in slomo, making it seem almost balletic. The first shot was of Kes sailing through the air, and it wasn’t until the focus pulled back that you could see his motorcycle floating across the screen, six feet below him. It looked fucking amazing, totally jaw dropping. For the first time, I could really see what the crowd saw when we performed. I glanced down at Sara’s face, watching her biting her lip, one hand on Peanut sleeping beside her. Even in the half-light of the movie theater, I could see the tension, the nerves. I squeezed her hand, then turned back to the flickering light. When the title came up on the screen, I smiled. She’d called the movie, Legends: Dancing on Air. The first shot after the title was as we were suiting up for a show, with close-ups of our faces through the visors, footage of us mentally preparing before an event, getting in the zone. She’d made us look kind of scary, really intense, as if we were soldiers about to do battle. Intercut with that were clips of us horsing around after, and getting into a water fight. I remembered that day. Sara and Aimee had

both gone for routine checkups and everything had been good. I’d been so damned relieved and happy, and that showed in every shot. But there was something else, too, with so many close-ups on my body and tatts, it was almost pornographic, the way the camera lens traveled over my body. I glanced across at her and raised an eyebrow, she winked at me, but she was blushing, too. “Something for the ladies,” she whispered. I cringed in my seat as the camera followed a trickle of water down my bare chest when I drank deeply from a bottle, then wiped my mouth with my arm and tipped the rest over my head, shaking my hair like a dog. All close up—all in slow motion. “I love that scene,” Sara said, her lips against my ear. “It’s so freakin’ hot!” “Are you pimping me out?” Mock indignation colored my tone, but Sara just grinned and winked at me. “Pays the rent.” The other guys got almost an equal amount of skin time, and I heard Aimee snickering in the row in front and murmuring something to Kes that made him grin at her. There were also shots of us doing yoga, on the trampoline, and some amazing footage of Kes firebreathing at one of our bonfires, and then throwing knives. He was with Ollo, and I felt a sharp pain in

my chest when I saw his wise old face, smiling with pleasure at his carnie family. There were shots of Bo playing with our helmets and clinging to Kes’s back while he rode his motorcycle across the back lot at Pomona, and even some of Socrates as he peered owlishly into the camera’s lens, making everyone laugh. Then the scenes moved onto stunts from the show and the music changed to a sharp flamenco. The shots were so good, so acute and close up, that it was unlike any aerial stunt footage I’d ever seen, and that made it stand out. It was pure theater, it was pure carnival. The bikes seemed to hang in the air, even when the movie was playing in real-time speed, and I gotta say, with the extreme angles she’d used, it really did look as though we were dancing on air. And there was the carnival in all its grit and glory. You could feel your hands rubbed raw as the roustabouts pulled on tent ropes, you could smell the fried foods and taste the funnel cake, you could feel the two-stroke fuel flowing through the throbbing bike engines. You could see the sweat on our faces, the challenge and fire in our eyes as we performed handstands, parallel jumps, criss-crossing leaps where timing was everything, standing on the handlebars and flying through the air, sailing in the sky, although in reality it was only seconds. You

could see every detail of the bikes from the gleaming chrome, 12 bars and sub cages to oil, sand and dirt. As the final credits rolled, the team from No Limits were on their feet clapping and yelling. Sara slunk down into her seat, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. The house lights snapped on and Seymour Michaels stood up at the front of the theater. “I’ve got one word to say to you all,” he shouted. “Sundance!” Yeah, not what I was expecting, but the No Limits employees seemed to understand. “What’s he talking about, babe?” I asked Sara. Peanut chose that moment to wake up and demand to be held, so I plucked him out of his carrier and bounced him on my shoulder. “The Sundance Film Festival,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “They’re talking about taking my movie to the largest independent film festival in the whole US!” I was so proud of her. So damn proud. I pulled her up, keeping one hand firmly around Peanut and kissed the hell out of her. Peanut didn’t appreciate being squashed between us and let out a screech that made us both wince. Kes was laughing, his arms around Aimee and Dove; Tera and Tucker were making out in the back row; and Luke and Zach were surrounded by

No Limit staff, smiling and laughing. Seymour Michaels swooped in to kiss Sara, keeping one eye on me as I frowned at him. “You’ve got a very talented young woman there, Zef,” he said. “Hang onto her.” “I intend to,” I said. For the rest of my life. Then a young kid entered carrying an enormous bunch of flowers in every imaginable color and presented them to Sara. “Oh wow! These are so beautiful! Who are they from?” She plucked the card and read out the words that I’d dictated to the florist over the phone. To the beautiful woman who has brought color into my life. Congratulations! I love you. She blushed and looked up at me. “Thank you, they’re gorgeous. But what if the movie sucked?” “I knew it wouldn’t.” “But it might have!” “Well, in that case, I guess the flowers are because I’m apologizing for my bad behavior later.” She laughed, her eyes shining, and I thought, Yes, I want to hear that for the rest of my life. I thought about the whole day later as I lay awake that night, Sara breathing softly next to me. We’d gone home and made love silently as Peanut

lay sleeping in his crib, watched over by Socks, who dozed with one eye open. In the digital age, why do we still dream about running away to join the circus? What is it that pulls at our imaginations? Is it like Ollo used to say, sawdust and stardust? Or is it something in our blood? Something that calls to us, the open road, the stars in the sky, the audiences who find magic in what we do? Maybe it’s all of that. I’d been down as low as a man could get: addicted to alcohol and drugs, selling shit that fucked up people’s lives, spending time in prison with the dregs of humanity, evil fuckers . . . and men like me who’d taken a wrong turn in life. It’s not easy to claw your way back up, but the carnival had done that for me, given me a second chance in life. And now I had everything I could want, which isn’t so much as it turns out. I had my friends and family; a woman who loved me, despite all my flaws and failings; I had a son that I’d lay down my life for. And I had the carnival. Life was good.

Fourteen months later . . . We don’t have a white picket fence, a minivan or a dog. Instead we have an RV, part-time ownership of a Kaapori Capuchin named Bojangles, an African Grey Parrot who answers to Socrates, and our precious little Peanut, also officially known as Ollie. Different strokes for different folks. When we decided to name Ollie for our lost friend, I found out something else important about names. In the Bible, Sara was the wife of Abraham and mother of Isaac. Her name was originally Sarai which means ‘quarrelsome’, but God commanded that her name be changed to Sara before the birth of her son. It means ‘princess’. That seems kind of cool to me. Sara wasn’t so amused. She says she’s going to look up the meaning of ‘Joseph’ but she hasn’t yet. Probably just as well. It probably says ‘freak’ next to my name. I don’t know how much longer my body will let me do stunts, flying through the air on 200 pounds of metal; I don’t know how much more punishment my body can take. Five or six years—less, if I blow

my knee out again. Everything has changed in the last eighteen months, and for the better. On the business side, Seymour Michaels surprised us all by coming through for us, and now we make pretty decent money advising on motorcycle riding stunts in the movies and doing some of the tougher ones ourselves. We fit that around our Pomona gig, and seeing as that’s mostly in the evenings, it works out well for everyone. We’d only be able to do a real short tour with the carnival in the summer, but we’d definitely do it. Michaels is also pushing ahead with plans to make a TV show about a stunt rider with a traveling carnival, and he’s going to write us into the contracts as ‘associate producers’ since the majority of the stories are based on us. I guess he wants the publicity the Daredevils are getting these days. Kes still doesn’t fully trust him, even when he’s seen for himself the money landing in his bank account, but then again he doesn’t really trust anyone who isn’t a carnie. But Zach is no one’s fool when it comes to paperwork and the law, so I think we’ll be okay. I reckon that he could have been like one of Michaels’ high-priced shark lawyers if he’d gotten a college education along with a better start in life, but he seems happy with the way things are.

One thing that none of us saw coming is Luke’s new career. As well as stunting, he’s been working with Lisanne’s band on a theme song for the new show, and if it’s good, which it will be, they might do some more song-writing together. With 32o North riding high, who knows how far they could go. The band won a Grammy for Best New Artist, and their first album Elephant Shoes topped the charts for weeks. It’s been hard for Lisanne and Daniel. She’s touring a lot of the time, and Daniel is training or playing away games. I know they’ll work it out—they’re solid. The Falcons didn’t make it to the play-offs last year, but this year is looking good. As for Sara, she’s trying to build a relationship with her parents. It’s not easy, but she’s trying. Her old man isn’t so bad, but her mom . . . well, it’s much more of a work in progress. We heard that Liam and his wife split up. She blames Sara, but at heart she knows that isn’t the whole story. She wouldn’t have divorced the sonof-a-bitch otherwise. Owen went away to school on his baseball scholarship. Sara says he’s not in touch with his dad and never goes home to Montana. She’s not in contact with him, but I think her dad hears from time to time. Not that Liam is in Missoula anymore. Word is, he got some job as a deputy sheriff down in Texas

or something. I don’t care so long as he stays away from us. Not that I think that will be a problem—he couldn’t sign those termination papers fast enough. Sara didn’t say much, but I know that had to sting. Ollie is my son, and I’ll never think of him any other way. We’ll tell him the truth one day when he’s old enough to understand and it’ll be up to him if he decides to find his birth father. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But for now, I’m going to love him hard and be the best father I can. That’s a work in progress, too. And I’m also going to work on being a husband. We’re not in any rush, but when the time is right. At least, that’s what I told Sara, but I have plans. For now, Spring is in the air. I can smell it in the salt-laden breeze that sweeps off the Pacific, and I can see it in the fresh green leaves on the desert figs that surround our ranch house. We’ll be packing up and moving on in a few days, hitting the road again, getting used to life in the open. I can’t wait to have another year where my son learns about carnival life. I can’t fuckin’ wait. Sara has been asked to make a documentary about the whole carnival life: the history, how it is today, with plans to interview as many old-timers as possible. Ollo would have approved of that. Legends: Dancing on Air didn’t win at the Sundance Festival, but it picked up a ton of smaller

awards and made a serious amount of money for everyone. Our share will be used to extend the ranch house next Fall. I’m kind of hoping the addition will be needed for a brother or sister for Ollie, but it’ll be what it’ll be. For now, he’s got Dove to play with. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Aimee announced that another little Donohue will be making an appearance sometime during the next year. Or maybe Tucker and Tera will surprise us all and be the next to have a kid. Ollo loved telling his stories. He told Sara a Blackfoot story about Feather-Woman who fell in love with the Morning Star, but he never told her the ending of that story. They have a child together, Poia, a son. Eventually, he also married and returned with his wife to the Sky-country to be with his parents. Now Poia himself is a star that rises with his father the Morning Star. Not a bad ending, as endings go. The rest of the movie money will be put into a college fund for Ollie. Neither of his parents have a college degree, but that doesn’t mean he won’t want to. The carnie life isn’t for everyone and if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: we’re all different, we’re all amazing. You can be a nerd, a weirdo, a freak, or play varsity ball and be valedictorian— everyone is equal when you’re a carnie. It doesn’t matter if you have a past like mine; what matters is who you are now.

And this is who I am, Joseph Connor Colton: I’m a father. I’m an uncle. I’m a brother. I’m a stunt rider. I’m a carnie. And when I take my girl up on the Ferris wheel, and when I hit the highest point on the ride, I’ll reach into my pocket and pull out the diamond and sapphire ring that I’ve had made for her. And when she says yes, which she will, it won’t be many more days after that before I’ll be able to say that I’m a husband, too. I’m many things, like most people. I’m made up of dark and light, good and bad, love and hate. But now I wake every day looking to the light, the woman who shines so bright in my world. My world—the carnival. And my mind travels into the past and the future, and I think of all I’ve endured and of all the joy and pain to come, and I think of the friends I’ve made, men who’ve become my brothers, and I think how damn lucky I am to have them all in my life. Our lives. Our lives in the traveling carnival. May the lights never dim. May the Wheel never stop turning. May the road never end. May the ride go on forever . . .

FINIS

And so that’s it—it really is the end of the ride. Zef and Sara, Kes and Aimee, Tucker and Tera, Luke and Zach, Daniel and Lisanne, their lives go on, but this is where my story ends. I really hope that you enjoyed Zef’s story—the last in the Traveling series. But if you’d like to know more about how Daniel and Lisanne met, you’ll want to read Dangerous to Know & Love. Zef and Sara’s story is for the child in all of us, the one who wanted to run away to the circus and fly on the trapeze, or maybe just eat cotton candy. Reviews are love! Honestly, they are! But it also helps other people to make an informed decision before buying this book. So I’d really appreciate if you took a few seconds to do just that by clicking this link Amazon Thank you!

Co-written Titles with Stuart Reardon Undefeated (coming in January 2018) Model Boyfriend (coming in late 2018) Standalone Titles Battle Scars One Careful Owner Dangerous to Know & Love Lifers At Your Beck & Call Dazzled Crazy Love Summer of Seventeen The New Samurai Exposure The Dark Detective Novellas Behind the Wall Playing in the Rain Audio Books One Careful Owner (narrated by Seth Clayton) US

UK Series Books click here

“Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none”—this is one of my favourite sayings. Oh, and ‘Be Nice!’ That’s another. Or maybe, ‘Where’s the chocolate?’ I get asked where my ideas come from—they come from everywhere. From walks with my dog on the beach, from listening to conversations in pubs and shops, where I lurk unnoticed with my notebook. And of course, ideas come from things I’ve seen or read, places I’ve been and people I meet. And if you’re wondering where I got the weird and wonderful (and really revolting) stories of carnie life from just after the Second World War, I’d really recommend reading Step Right Up: Memoirs of a Sword Swallower by Daniel P. Mannix. But then again, if you’re squeamish, maybe not. I’m still haunted by the true story of a man who sewed buttons to his . . . you know what? You’d better find out for yourself . . . As well as writing about colorful carnival characters, I’ve written several military romances. And because of this, I support these charities: www.felixfund.org.uk—the UK Bomb Disposal

Charity www.eodwarrriorfoundation.org—the US Bomb Disposal Charity www.nowzad.com—helping servicemen and women rescue stray and abandoned animals in former and current warzones Don’t forget to claim your free book! My acclaimed novella PLAYING IN THE RAIN was featured in Huffington Post’s list of Top Ugly Cry Reads! Click here to see the whole list. You’ll receive it for free when you sign up to my newsletter, as well as the opportunity to read ARCs of new stories. Newsletter Sign Up

And I really love to hear from readers, so all my contacts are below. Please do drop me a line.

If I truly had to ask everyone who’s ever helped me, I’d have to start with thanking my parents for reading to me a lot of years back, my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Peck and . . . well, you get the picture. Wanting to write, being a writer, it’s a lifelong lesson, and one that I’m still learning. But there are a number of people who have helped guide and sculpt this book. So I’ll start with these women, all amazing in their own rights, all different, all supportive. To Kirsten Olsen, friend, confidant, editor, whose support never fails me. To Tonya ‘Maverick’ Allen, travel buddy and beta reader. To Audrey Orielle and Dina Farndon Eidinger whose voices whisper in my ears and soar across the oceans. To Sheena Lumsden for many things, but most of all, unwavering friendship. To Neda Amini of Ardent Prose for coordinating book launches and so much more. To Hang Le, for her cover artwork for this book and for all of the TRAVELING SERIES. To James, who advised me on the kind of bikes

the boys would ride, and the appropriate helmets and clothing. And as he does crazy racing on a very pretty and very expensive Ducati 1200, I expect he knows what he’s talking about. To Tera Chastain, for letting me take her name in vain—again. To Gina Behrends, who advised me on all things football. To all the bloggers who give up their time for their passion of reading and reviewing books— thank you for your support.

Thank you Stalking Angels. You know how much you mean to me and you never let me down. You are my go-to gals, advising, supporting, making me laugh when I need it, reporting pirates, and generally being the best reader group and friendship group I could want. I love all your messages, and thank you so much for being my eyes and ears out in our amazing book world while I hide in my writer’s cave.