Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 73

 I’m not even sure what I’m doing anymore. I just know I want her to keep smiling. That bright, over-the-top, teeth-baring, joy-pouring-out-of-her smile.

We pass a stand selling funnel cake, and she gasps so loud you’d think someone proposed.

“Oh my God,” she says, turning to me, eyes wide. “Do you like funnel cake?”

I shrug. “I like sugar and fried things. So yeah.”

“Perfect,” she says, already pulling me toward the line. “We need one immediately.”

We wait behind a couple arguing about powdered sugar ratios. Penny hums softly to herself, that bear still tucked under her arm like it’s her child. She glances at me, then down at our shoes, then back up again.

“I like your boots,” she says.

I look down at the same black combat boots I’ve been wearing since deployment.

“They’re practical,” I say.

She grins. “They make you look terrifying.”

“That’s the idea.”

We get the funnel cake, covered in powdered sugar and strawberry sauce. She tears a piece off, sticks it in her mouth, moans a little too loudly, and immediately turns red.

“Oh my God,” she says around the bite. “This is so unfairly good.”

“You moaned.”

“No, I didn’t.”

I raise an eyebrow.

She squints. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was involuntary. Like when people see puppies.”

I tear off a piece and try it. Yeah. It’s stupidly good.

We walk and eat, sharing bites, and I’m not even mad about the powdered sugar that’s probably now coating my shirt. She stops in front of a mirror maze next, her eyes sparkling.

“This one next.”

“You sure?”

“Why? You scared?” she teases.

“I just don’t want you getting stuck in there and crying for me to save you.”

“Oh, please. If anything, I’ll have to come rescue you.”

That earns her a smirk.

Inside the maze, everything warps. Mirrors stretch us out, shrink us down, tilt reality sideways. She laughs at every distorted version of herself, and when one mirror makes me look about four feet tall and 400 pounds, she nearly cries from laughing.

“You look like an angry balloon animal.”

“I feel like one.”

We get lost twice. She walks straight into a mirror once and squeaks.

“Okay, I’m starting to see your point.”

Eventually, we find the exit, breathless with laughter. She’s leaning on me a little, her hand around my arm like it belongs there. I don’t shake her off.

Next is the carousel. She chooses a white horse with gold trim and insists I take the one beside her.

“C’mon, tough guy,” she says. “Let’s ride the ponies.”

I groan but follow. The ride starts, and she beams at me across the small gap between our horses. The wind catches her hair, and for a second, it looks like something from a movie. She’s all light and joy and warmth. Something in my chest shifts.

After that, we hit the games again. She tries the ring toss—fails miserably—and demands a rematch. I win her another little stuffed bear. She insists on naming it Sergeant Snuggles.

We’re walking, talking, her hand occasionally brushing mine, and then it happens.

We’re in a narrow path between booths. A group of rowdy guys barrels through. One of them slams into Penny’s side hard, sending her stumbling forward.

I react before I think—my arm wrapping around her waist, catching her just in time before she hits her head on the ground. Her body presses into mine, her chest heaving. The guy doesn’t even look back.

I glare after him, but I can’t chase him down without letting her go.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice low, tense.

She nods, breathless. “Yeah. Just… startled.”

I don’t let go right away. I keep her there, close, my hand pressed firmly to her side. She’s shaking a little. I hate that.

“I’m sorry,” she says, barely audible.

“Don’t be.”

She steps back gently, and I let her. But the tension doesn’t leave me. The fair doesn’t feel fun anymore. It feels like noise. Like risk. But I look at her—how hard she’s trying to hold onto the joy—and I force myself to relax.

“C’mon,” I say. “Let’s find something calm.”

We end up on a bench under a string of lights. She’s still clutching her bear. The real one, not Sergeant Snuggles.

Silence stretches. The noise of the fair hums around us, but it’s muffled here. She leans her head against my shoulder. I don’t move.

“You good now?” I ask.

She nods. “Better.”

I don’t say that I’m not. That I’ll probably be scanning every person in this damn place for the rest of the night. That I’m one step away from dragging her back to the car and locking the doors.

Instead, I say, “Next time, I’m putting a GPS tracker in your shoe.”

“You already said phone.”

“We’re escalating.”

She giggles, soft and tired. “I’m glad you came.”

Yeah. I am too. Against all odds, against all reason. I am.