Chapter 32

Kingston

I told myself the kiss meant nothing.

It had been an accident—a stumble, a jolt, two people colliding in a cramped Ferris wheel cabin. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t real.

And yet…

Every time I looked at Cora, I could still feel the ghost of her mouth against mine.

Soft. Warm. Too damn tempting.

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to focus, to act casual for the kids’ sake as we led the boys through the path of colorful tents and rides.

But it wasn’t easy. Every glance at her felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken.

Every brush of her arm, every quick smile she threw over her shoulder—it all lodged under my skin, a slow-burning ache I couldn’t seem to shake.

"Come on!" Riley shouted, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward a cluster of carnival games. "You gotta win me the big dragon!"

I let him pull me along, grateful for the distraction. "The dragon, huh? You sure you don’t want something easier? Like that... pink duck?"

Riley made a face. "Dragons are cooler!"

I chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Alright. Dragon it is."

Cora caught up a moment later, laughing at Riley’s excitement.

The sound of it—light and unguarded—tugged at something deep inside me.

She looked different when she laughed. Younger. Freer.

God, she was beautiful.

It was the fire in her. The stubborn strength she carried even when the world tried to tear her down.

I couldn’t tell if it was the kiss that had highlighted it, but now, it was all I could see.

I narrowed my eyes at the rigged carnival game, sizing it up. After a moment of strategizing, I grabbed a ring. One sharp toss, and the ring hooked perfectly over the neck of the tallest bottle.

Riley whooped and jumped up and down. "You did it!"

The attendant grumbled under his breath but handed over the giant stuffed dragon.

Riley clutched it to his chest with pure joy.

I turned to see Cora watching us, her hand pressed lightly to her mouth, her eyes shining.

Pride. Amusement. Maybe something warmer, too.

I wanted to see that look on her face again. I would do anything to make tha happen.

Every time she lingered near a booth—whether it was the dart toss, the milk can knockdown, or even a silly ring toss—I quietly paid the vendor to let her win.

I just wanted to give her a few moments of joy, of lightness. To see her throw her head back and laugh when she popped a balloon, or watch her eyes go wide when she toppled the stacked cans with one solid throw.

God, it was dangerous—how easy it was to want this.

To want her.

I told myself it was about Riley. About protecting the boy, protecting her.

But somewhere between winning a neon green teddy bear and sneaking a funnel cake into her hands, that lie unraveled.

I wasn’t protecting her and her son because I had to.

I was protecting them because I wanted to.

Because somewhere along the way, duty had turned into desire.

We were sharing a plethora of food near a shaded picnic table when it happened.

Riley had been bouncing around, taking small bites of everything, grinning and sticky-fingered and blissfully happy. He had been laughing until the sound turned into something breathless and wet like choking.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught him freeze.

"Mom," he croaked, tugging at Cora’s sleeve.

She turned instantly, crouching to his level. Her beautiful features were twisted in panic. "What is it, bud?"

"My tongue feels funny," he said, rubbing at his mouth, eyes wide and scared.

Alarm bells exploded in my head.

Cora’s face drained of color. "What did you eat? Riley, did you—?"

He pointed vaguely toward a half-eaten skewer he’d been holding earlier. Some kind of glazed fruit kebab.

My stomach dropped.

Mango.

Shit.

"He's allergic," Cora whispered hoarsely, already digging frantically in her bag. "Ohh, god, I didn’t even notice. His EpiPen—"

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, but I shoved it down, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Here," I barked at a nearby attendant. "Medical kit. Now."

The boy scrambled away, radioing urgently for help.

Riley’s breathing was starting to hitch, small, shallow gasps that made Cora’s hands shake as she ripped through her purse.

"Cora, look at me," I said sharply, crouching beside her. "Where is it?"

"I— I don’t know," she stammered. "I packed it this morning. I swear, I—"

It didn’t matter.

We didn’t have time.

I scooped Riley into my arms, pressing him close against my chest, feeling the rapid, terrified flutter of his heartbeat.

"Hold on, buddy," I muttered. "You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay."

Cora ran beside me as I sprinted toward the first aid station, her face crumpling in helpless horror every time Riley whimpered.

The seconds dragged like hours until we were standing outside of the medic station.

Finally—blessedly—a paramedic burst from a side door, EpiPen in hand.

I stepped back only enough to let him work, my entire body coiled with helpless fury.

One quick jab.

A few agonizing heartbeats. I could feel my pulse in my throat as I watched him intently.

And Riley’s breathing eased.

Still ragged. But no longer panicked. And with each exhale, it became slightly less strained.

Cora collapsed onto the bench beside him, cradling his small body against hers, murmuring broken apologies against his hair with a tight, emotional voice.

I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, heart still hammering in my ears.

He had almost died. Cora’s son could have died right in front of me, this special kid snuffed out because I hadn’t been thinking.

The realization hit harder than any blow.

After the medic cleared Riley for observation, I sat down beside Cora. Neither of us spoke for a long moment.

Riley was drowsy now, clutching his big dragon stuffed animal protectively.

The sun was setting, casting long gold shadows across the table.

I glanced sideways at Cora. She looked exhausted. Strained.

But when she noticed me watching, she summoned a small, shaky smile.

"Thank you," she whispered.

I shook my head. "Don’t thank me."

Protecting her wasn’t a favor.

It wasn’t duty. It was instinct.

I wanted her safe. I wanted Riley safe.

I wanted... more.

The weight of it pressed against my chest, dangerous and undeniable.

I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to reach across the fragile space between us without shattering everything.

So I settled for the simplest truth.

"I’m glad I could help. Cora, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere," I said quietly.

Her eyes widened, glistening in the fading light.

"I mean it, Cora. No matter what happens. You’re not alone."

A shaky breath left her lips.

For a second, she looked like she might cry.

But then she ducked her head and whispered, "Okay."

I put my hand on hers. She turned over her palm to intertwine our fingers. We silently sat like that, holding each other.

And even though the day had been filled with fear and chaos, a strange, fierce hope bloomed in my chest.

Maybe the accidental kiss hadn’t been an accident.

Maybe—just maybe—this was only the beginning.