Page 64 of Where the Music Grows

“Too late now if I don’t.” She giggles.

The ride jerks to life, and we’re instantly spinning, tilting, and whirling in every direction. Jinnie shrieks with laughter, her hair flying wildly as she grips the safety bar with both hands. I can’t help but laugh too, though my stomach’s doing somersaults.

When it finally stops, we stumble off the ride, dizzy and breathless. Jinnie grabs my arm to steady herself, her face flushed and eyes bright.

“I think I’m done with spinning for the rest of my life,” she gasps, still laughing.

“I’m going to agree.”

We pass a booth selling lemonade, and Jinnie stops abruptly.

“Lemonade break?” she asks, already pulling out a few dollars from her bag.

“Absolutely.” I gently push her hand away and pay for the drinks.

We find a shady spot to sit down as we sip our drinks. The fair buzzes around us—kids laughing, music playing, the distant hum of rides in motion. It’s chaotic in the best way possible. It reminds me so much of my mom and a time when things were so much easier.

After finishing our drinks, we meander through the animal barns. Jinnie falls in love with a lionhead rabbit. I don’t hate animals, but I’ve really had my fill of straw, shit, and feed buckets. We continue into the large sheds where young and old alike are showing off their crafts. Again, I’m taken back to my mom’s strawberry jam and brownies that always won a blue ribbon.

“You okay?” Jinnie asks.

I nod, pulling myself back to the present. “Yeah, just memories, you know?”

She smiles softly, understanding flickering in her eyes. “I get it. Fairs have a way of doing that.” She links her arm through mine as we walk. “What’s your favorite memory of your mom?”

The question catches me off guard, but not in a bad way. It’s been so long since someone’s asked me something like that. “She used to sing while she cooked,” I say after a pause. “Not like, full-on performances or anything—just little songs under her breath. Sometimes they were old country tunes, sometimes she’d just make up nonsense words to whatever tune popped into her head. It drove my dad crazy.” I chuckle at the memory. “But I loved it.”

Jinnie squeezes my arm gently. “That’s beautiful. She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” I say quietly.

We wander into the next barn, where local artisans are selling handmade goods. Jinnie stops at a booth filled with candles and wax melts. I step back and watch her sniff each one, tilting her head to the side as she decides whether she likes it or not. She holds it out for me. I immediately know it’s right for her. I pull out a ten-dollar bill and hand it over. “We’ll take it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she says.

“I want to. That’s a good scent and it reminds me of you. Light, airy, and it makes me smile.”

She beams at me.

This is turning out to be the best damn day of my life.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jinnie

We make our way back to the food area. There are so many offerings. It all looks so good. And terribly unhealthy at the same time. Jack’s walking beside me, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a soft smile playing on his lips. I sneak a glance at him, trying to figure out if he’s as relaxed as he looks.

He catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, feeling my cheeks warm. “You look like you’re actually having fun.”

He chuckles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am. Believe it or not, this is exactly what I needed. No crowds, no pressure. No chores waiting. I feel like, for the first time in a really long time, I can just be.”

His words hit hard. There’s something about Jack that feels so real. Like he’s not trying to be anything other than himself when he’s with me. It’s refreshing, especially after years of feeling like I had to shrink myself to fit into my small town’s expectations. I’m glad I get to be the one to watch him truly relax. He deserves it. I want him to be able to enjoy what’s left of his youth before the big, wide world chews him up and possibly spits him out.

We pass a booth selling handmade jewelry, and I pause to admire a delicate silver bracelet with tiny charms shaped like stars. The vendor smiles at me knowingly.

“That one’s called ‘Wish Upon a Star,’” she says. “Perfect for dreamers.”