Getting Real (Getting Some #3)(57)

We make a pit stop at Vi’s house—the boys skip pebbles on the lake while she changes her clothes—and then we’re on our way to the amusement park.

Violet sits in the passenger seat next to me with her window down, bathed in the late morning sunshine and looking pretty enough to eat. The warm breeze teases the tendrils that have escaped the thick bun on the top of her head. She’s wearing hot-pink sunglasses, a black Led Zeppelin tank top, and cute cutoff white shorts that are going to have my eyes glued to her ass all the livelong day.

About an hour after getting to the park, I discover something I didn’t know about Vi . . . something I’d never considered.

“Kingda Ka,” Brayden announces, gesturing to the mammoth ride like a game show host unveiling the grand prize. “The fastest roller coaster in the country and the tallest in the entire world.”

“The whole world, huh?” Violet gulps. “No Kingda kidding?”

“Nope. It’s totally righteous.”

Spencer extends his pinky and thumb on both hands in the surfer shaka sign and mimics Crush, the turtle from Finding Nemo—a film my kids have watched so many times it’s permanently branded on their brains. And mine.

“Righteous, righteous!”

Aaron joins in the movie quoting fun, giving Brayden a high five. “Let’s grab some shell, dude.”

Violet’s eyes grow bigger and more terrified the longer she stares up at the skyscraper-high roller coaster.

“You know, I think I’m gonna enjoy this one on the down low. Like, really low . . . over here,” she gestures to a small grassy knoll. “ . . . on the ground.”

I lift my sunglasses to the top of my head.

“You don’t want to go on?”

“Well, the thing is . . . I’ve never actually gone on a roller coaster before. Ever.”

I’ve watched Violet jump on a moving gurney to administer chest compressions to a patient. I’ve seen her tie a tourniquet over a pulsing wound spouting arterial blood like a frigging geyser. I’ve seen her block the exit door to a domestic abuser after his wife told the cops how she really sustained her injuries.

This skittishness and fear is a totally new look for her—and it’s pretty fucking adorable. It seems twisted and wrong to feel that way, but it’s still turning me on something fierce. Making me imagine pulling her trembling little body against me and kissing her mouth long and deep until her anxiety is a faded memory. Kissing her . . . lots of places.

“Never?” Aaron asks. “Really?”

She shakes her head. “We didn’t have the money to go to amusement parks when I was young, and when I was older there wasn’t any time so, yeah, never.”

“That’s awesome,” Brayden exclaims. “Kingda Ka can be your first—it’s gonna blow your mind. And we’ll all go on with you.”

“I don’t know about that, Bray.” She looks to me. “Is it safe? It doesn’t look safe.”

I slide my hand up and down her back. “It’s extremely safe. They inspect these things every day.”

“You have to!” Spencer begs. “I went on last year and I barely made the height cutoff. It’s so fun—pleeeease.”

“Besides”—Aaron grins evilly—“you don’t want us to think you’re chicken, do you?”

Violet glances at each of them.

“You’d really think I’m a chicken if I don’t go on?”

Children are like nature . . . cruel and predictable.

Aaron doesn’t hesitate. “Yep.”

Brayden concurs. “Totally and forever.”

Spencer at least tries to soften the blow.

“Sorry—those are the rules.”

Vi turns to me helplessly. “You have bad kids, Connor.”

I wrap my arm around her waist, tugging her closer.

“Yeah, I know.”

She takes a deep, cleansing breath. And shakes her head like she’s going to regret this—like she already is.

“Okay, I have a rep to protect. I’m in. Let’s go.”

The boys cheer like she scored a touchdown. And I press a soft quick kiss to her tense forehead.

“You’re going to love it.”

And I think she almost believes me—until we’re actually sitting on the roller coaster. Side by side, in the third row, because Aaron called dibs on the single front seat so Brayden and Spencer took the next best thing behind him.

“Connor,” Vi whispers. “I don’t want to freak out the boys, but I have to tell you something.”

I lean toward her as much as the weighted industrial safety harness will let me. “What is it?”

“We’re gonna die.”

I laugh—I can’t help it.

“No, we’re—”

“Yes, we are!” And she’s not whispering anymore. “I’ve never been on a roller coaster and now the breaks are going to fail and I’m going to die on one! It’s gonna be just like the Alanis Morissette song!”

“Hey, man,” the bearded guy in the row behind us grumbles, “you wanna chill her out? She’s killing my buzz.”

“Shut up,” I shoot back. “She’s fine.”

I put my hand on top of Violet’s clenched fists.