Page 40 of The Callahan Effect

I laughed.

"You've become dangerous with those one-liners."

His shoulders rose in an innocent shrug before another message appeared.

Occupational hazard.

The reply drew another laugh from me, and together we walked toward the parking lot, neither of us in any particular hurry despite the game having ended forty minutes earlier. Spokane seemed to be enjoying one of those gorgeous late summer afternoons where the temperature settled comfortably between warm and cool, encouraging people outdoors rather than sending them searching for air-conditioning. Families lingered near Riverfront Park, and the sidewalks remained busy with people making the most of the sunshine before autumn inevitably arrived.

Jack stopped beside his SUV and instead of unlocking it as I expected, he glanced toward me and held out his phone.

I thought we could do something different today.

Curiosity replaced whatever fatigue remained from the game.

"What did you have in mind?"

His thumbs moved quickly.

Trust me?

I smiled.

"That depends."

He raised an eyebrow.

"On whether you're planning to abandon me in the woods."

His silent laugh reached his eyes and he shook his head before unlocking the vehicle.

Twenty minutes later we pulled into the parking area beside Riverfront Park, but instead of heading toward the walking paths we'd explored previously, Jack led me deeper into the park until an ornate wooden building came into view. Music floated through the open entrance, accompanied by delighted laughter and the unmistakable sound of an antique carousel turning inside.

I looked at him in surprise.

"The carousel?"

Built in 1909. My mom used to bring me here before she got sick. Dad kept bringing me after she died. I still come back once or twice a year. It reminds me of happier times.

Something tightened inside my chest. This wasn't just a date. Jack was sharing a place that mattered.

"I'd love to ride it."

The relief that crossed his face was imperceptible, but I caught it all the same.

Inside, the carousel gleamed beneath hundreds of tiny lights reflecting from polished brass mirrors and beautifully restored wooden horses carved more than a century earlier. Children laughed as the platform slowly began turning, parents waved cameras from the sidelines, and the old band organ filled the building with cheerful music that made everyone, regardless of age, smile without thinking about it.

Jack chose a black stallion with a flowing mane.

Of course he did.

I climbed onto the chestnut horse beside him.

"I have a feeling you're about to become ridiculously competitive over a carousel."

Maybe.

The ride lasted barely a few minutes, yet I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed something so utterly uncomplicated. Watching Jack laugh silently as his horse rose and fell with the music erased every image I'd formed of the quiet, endlessly composed medical student. For those few minutes he looked younger, carefree, and completely at peace, and I found myself wishing I could preserve that expression forever.