Page 87 of Shine For Me

“Hey.” June is clutching the edge of the balloon so tightly her fingers are turning white. “Are you okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” she squeaks. We continue to rise steadily into the air and June moans softly before squeezing her eyes shut.

“Sweetheart.” I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her, gripping the basket edge on either side, so she’s caged into my chest. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“Maybe a little,” she manages.

I huff out an exasperated breath. “Then why did you arrange to do this?”

“Because everyone says how cool it is,” she whimpers. “And I thought your family would like it.”

I shake my head. We’re really going to have to have a long talk about her insistence on pleasing other people.

“Take a deep breath,” I tell her, because she’s starting to shake. “Lean back a little—you feel my chest there? I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe.” I feel her take a few breaths, her body relaxing against me. “Good. Now you should open your eyes.”

“No!” she yelps, going tense again.

“June, this is amazing. I mean it. It’s so beautiful up here. You’re going to regret it if you don’t look.” I tighten my arms as she takes more deep breaths. I can tell the exact moment she opens her eyes because her breath catches.

“Oh.”

I grin. “Told you.”

“This is really…wow. Itisgorgeous.”

We’re floating over fields and fields of grapevines. It almost makes me feel dizzy, to see the perfectly ordered straight lines of the trellises stretching out below us in never ending rows. Off in the distance, the mountains that encircle the valley are covered in a light mist. The sun has sunk lower over the last few minutes, turning the sky around us the palest pink.

And June is in my arms, her eyes wide open to take it in, being so brave when I know she’s afraid, just so she doesn’t miss it.

I love her,I think to myself, the certainty of the words settling deep inside me. Just like last night, I realize that it’s probably too soon to have these kinds of thoughts. And just like last night, I know it doesn’t matter. I love her. The speed at which I fell doesn’t make any difference to my heart. I love Juniper Cain, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change that.

Even with that certainty comes a shallow trickle of fear. What if she never feels the same way about me? I know that she cares about me. I even think she might come to love me, eventually. But I also know that if her grandfather calls her tomorrow and says she has to keep up the charade with her ex for a while longer, she might just do it.

Thinking that makes me feel guilty. I know she wants to be strong enough to stand up to him. Sheisstrong enough, whether she believes it or not. But I also know she has let that man pressure her for years. That’s not the kind of thing you can just turn off overnight.

“Fox,” she whispers in my arms. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” I ask. “You’re the one who planned this.”

She turns in my arms a little, just enough to see my face over her shoulder. “But you’re the one who made me feel brave enough to do it.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head, taking a deep breath. Maybe our relationship is a bit like this balloon. Maybe June just needs my encouragement—needs me to believe in her—in order to open her eyes and take that chance.

We’re much higher up now, the fields tiny in the distance far below. But June doesn’t close her eyes again. Instead she keeps her gaze locked on the horizon, where the sun is slipping behind the mountains, painting the sky with pinks and oranges vivid enough to take your breath away.

* * *

We endup at a pub for dinner. Everyone is exhilarated from the balloon ride—even notoriously grumpy Will seems pretty giddy. Apparently, everyone but me and June took a million pictures so we pass phones around to see what views people had from the other baskets. Rose took a picture of me and June just as the sun was going down. We’re in profile in the shot, my arms around her, her head tilted back against my chest. We’re both smiling against a backdrop of the sunset.

I send that one to myself. I want to put it on all my social media accounts. I want to sell it to every celebrity gossip magazine in the country. I want the entire world to know that the gorgeous woman in my arms is mine—and that she trusts me enough to smile like that even when she’s hundreds of feet off the ground and terrified.

We order burgers and beer—a nice change from the endless wine of the weekend—and stuff ourselves silly. Apparently flying over Napa in a hot air balloon works up quite an appetite. We’re on our third round of drinks when the jukebox music is interrupted by a quick shot of static that has everyone in the place wincing.

“Sorry about that,” a bartender says, climbing up onto a stage on the other side of the room, a mic to his mouth. “We’re getting ready to start karaoke, so make sure you get yourself signed up. Folders with song choices are up here for anyone who needs ideas.”

Everyone at our table turns to June. “Did you know this was a karaoke bar?”

“No,” she says, eyes wide. “God, I would have never come here if I did.”