Chapter 13

It all started an hour ago.

Jake and I had arrived five hours earlier at the amusement park as chaperones for Eslie's school trip.

"I'm gonna go meet with my friends!" she announced before dashing off, leaving us behind.

And that was it. For hours, Jake and I wandered the park, keeping an eye on the students scattered everywhere. Some were nearby, others had disappeared into the crowd, probably off riding roller coasters or wasting their allowances on carnival games. Meanwhile, we were stuck here, doing our job—bored out of our minds.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward. I glanced around before speaking up. "So..." I hesitated. "You chaperone often?"

Jake shot me a look like I'd just suggested he enjoyed tax audits. His glare was sharp, eyes narrowing in pure disbelief.

He scoffed, turning away. "You think I don't have anything better to do with my life?"

I sighed, already regretting opening my mouth. "That's not what I meant."

The wind picked up, tousling his hair as he glanced back at me, squinting slightly. "Yeah, whatever."

With that, he turned on his heel and kept walking, scanning the park for any sign of the students. Some were still within view, others had long disappeared to the far end of the park.

I trailed behind him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "You don't have to be so grouchy all the time!"

Jake stopped so abruptly that I walked straight into his back. "Ouch!" I groaned, rubbing my forehead as I looked up at him.

He stared down at me, completely unbothered. "This is how I talk."

His tone wasn't defensive—it was matter-of-fact, like he was genuinely confused by my complaint. As if he had no idea he came off that way.

And honestly? That threw me off more than anything else.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I brush past him. "We're on a mission, right?"

Jake sighs behind me, and even without looking back, I can practically feel the irritation radiating off of him.

We continue walking, scanning the area and mentally taking count for some more of the students we spot. Some are huddled near food stands, others are darting between rides, and a few are already drenched from the log flume.

That's when I see it—a mini-golf course tucked to the side of the park, glowing with neon colors and cartoonish obstacles. A giant windmill spins lazily at the center, and a tiny, fake volcano puffs out harmless smoke.

I point excitedly. "Oh! Let's do that!"

Jake follows my gaze, his face blank with disinterest. He then turns back to me, unimpressed. "No way."

I frown at his attitude. "Come on!"

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like I'm exhausting just to exist near. "You can."

Annoyance prickles at me. Without thinking, I dart forward and grab the back of his shirt, yanking him to a sudden stop. He nearly stumbles.

"Hey! What the hell?!" He whirls around, eyes dark with irritation.

"Go golfing with me."

His expression stays deadpan as he raises a single eyebrow. "No way in hell."

I'm persistent, though. I tighten my grip on his shirt and tug again. "Come on! I can't go by myself! Doesn't it look fun?"

His gaze drops to where I'm still holding onto him. His jaw tightens. "Can you stop doing that?"

I glance down at my hands, then back up at him, doubling down and gripping even tighter. "Not until you agree."

He exhales through his nose, his patience hanging by a thread. "Nope. No chance. Definitely not."

.

.

.

In the end, he agreed. I can be very persistent.

Jake and I took turns playing, and to my surprise, he was actually... really good. Too good.

"Hey! No fair! I thought you'd be bad at this!" I huffed as he effortlessly sank another shot.

He turned to me with a smug grin, casually resting the golf club against his shoulder. "Who said I'd be bad at this?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it, trying to remember why I even assumed that in the first place. Was it because he didn't want to play? Did I just assume that meant he'd suck at it?

"You... you...!" I sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You lied to me!"

Jake snickered, giving me a look like I was some innocent kid who had just discovered how the world worked. He took a step closer, hovering over me slightly.

"I never said I didn't know how to play." He murmured, eyes locked onto mine. "I just said I didn't wanna play."

My eyes widened slightly. He was right. He never once said he wasn't good—I figured then. I did make that assumption based on his reluctance.

Before I could respond, he let out a low, almost villainous chuckle, like I was the pawn he had just outsmarted in some grand scheme. Then, without another word, he turned back toward his station and lined up his next shot, completely in his element.

He swung, sending the tiny golf ball rolling toward the hole—

—Until a small kid ran directly in its path, stopping it in its tracks.

"Daddy, I wanna play in that one! It's blue!" the kid announced loudly, pointing directly at Jake's station.

Jake's entire posture tensed. His eyes followed the kid's tiny sneakers to his precious golf ball, which had been rudely interrupted from reaching its goal. His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply, standing up straight.

"Hey, kid. You're in the way."

I gasped slightly, shooting Jake a look. Did he seriously just  speak like that to a child?

The kid, who couldn't have been older than five, crossed his arms and stared right back at him—completely unfazed. Not an ounce of fear in his little body.

"I wanna play in the blue one!" the kid insisted, stomping a foot.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and walked over, bending down to retrieve his ball. As he straightened up, he shot the kid a cold glare. "I was here first. Get lost."

His tone was so sharp that even I felt a chill. But the kid? Still standing his ground.

"You had enough time with it!" the kid shot back.

Jake let out a low, almost disbelieving chuckle, running a hand through his hair before tilting his head at the child. "And how would you know, huh?" His expression darkened slightly. "You just got here."

I had no idea what I was witnessing. Was Jake... picking a fight with a child? And worse—who was even winning? Because the kid didn't look ready to back down.

The child whined, stomping his foot again. "This is the only blue one, and I want it!"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Well, so do I, kid. You're not special."

My jaw nearly dropped.

Jake Lee—grumpy, brooding, emotionally unavailable Jake—was actually arguing with a five-year-old over a mini-golf station. And he wasn't even pretending to be the bigger person. He was genuinely being petty.

"Jake, maybe—" I step forward, trying to stop whatever this is before it escalates even further.

But before I can even say anything else, the kid beats me to it.

"I'm gonna tell my daddy!" he declares, his little voice trembling with rage.

Jake just chuckles, completely unfazed. "Oh yeah? Go ahead."

They lock eyes in a silent, intense stare-off. Neither one backs down. It lasts a solid thirty seconds—thirty painfully long seconds—until the kid's expression starts to change.

I know that face. I've babysat before. That's the face kids make right before they lose it.

And then, right on cue—

"DADDY!!!" The kid erupts into loud, ear-splitting sobs, his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

Jake laughs. Laughs. "Not so manly now, huh?" He steps back with a smug shake of his head. "You don't deserve the blue."

I slap a hand over my face. Oh, Jake. Why must you be like this?

I move to step in before this gets any worse, but a deep, rumbling voice stops me cold.

"Big Dog, what's wrong?!"

I turn—and nearly collapse at the sight of an extremely muscular, gigantic man approaching.

He's huge. Towering. Like he was built to break people in half for a living.

The kid—Big Dog, apparently—sniffles and points dramatically at Jake.

The man—Big Dog's dad—zeroes in on him. "What did you do to big dog?"

I glance at Jake, expecting some kind of reaction, but he looks completely unaffected, despite the fact that this guy is at least five times his size.

Jake just shrugs, hands tucked casually in his pockets. "Nothing. He's just a crybaby." His lips quirk into a small smirk, like this is mildly entertaining to him. How is he not shivering in fear right now?!

The man does not appreciate Jake's attitude. Without hesitation, he reaches out and grabs Jake's arm.

"You're gonna pay for making my big dog cry!"

Most people would panic. Most people would at least try to de-escalate.

Not Jake.

Instead, he keeps talking.

"Maybe he's crying because of that ridiculous name you gave him."

The man's grip tightens. "Why, you little—" He twists Jake's arm, forcing him to turn around.

Jake still looks completely unfazed. If anything, his smirk only grows. He tilts his head slightly so the man can get a good look at it.

"Like, who names their kid Big Dog?" he muses, his voice dripping with amusement. "Considering he's crying like a small dog."

Oh. Oh no.

The man's face turns a violent shade of red, veins bulging from his forehead.

"That's it! You're gonna pay for that!"

The man twists Jake's arm further, and just as I brace myself for the sickening crack of bone, I move.

Without thinking, I launch myself forward, one foot extended, and kick the guy straight in the stomach.

He grunts, stumbling backward before hitting the ground with a thud.

The kid let's out an ear-piercing wail and scrambles to his dad's side. "DADDY!"

Jake straightens up, rolling his shoulder like nothing just happened. Then he glares at me.

"Why the hell did you get involved?"

My eyes widen in disbelief. Is he serious right now?!

"Why did I?!" I stomp toward him, my patience long gone. "That guy was huge, Jake! He could've broken your arm in half, and you—" I point an accusing finger at him, then at the man groaning on the floor. "—kept provoking him like an idiot!"

I take a shaky breath, pressing my fingers to my temple, willing myself to calm down. My voice drops slightly, though my frustration still lingers.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Jake just stands there, silent. His expression unreadable, his eyes dark and emotionless.

I stare at him, exasperated. Who even is this guy? Not only did he start an argument with a child, but then he doubled down by provoking a guy who could probably bench press a car.

Before I can say anything else, a loud, authoritative voice calls out from a distance—

"HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

My head snaps up. Three men in security uniforms are running toward us.

Jake exhales, looking over at them before glancing back at me.

"Dial Chris." he mutters.

I blink. What?

"What the hell does Chris have to do with this?" I ask, my voice still tight with frustration.

But then I follow his gaze—

The security guards are almost here.

I turn back to Jake, and he's already lifting his hands in surrender, looking eerily... unbothered. Like this isn't even the first time this has happened.

"Dial Chris." he repeats, voice sharper now. "Unless you don't wanna see the light of day again."

Before I can process that, two of the guards reach us, grabbing our wrists and slapping on—

Plastic handcuffs.

I blink at them. Bright red, flimsy, definitely made for kids. I mean, it is an amusement park.

Still. The situation feels far from amusing.

"You didn't have to get involved." Jake mutters as one of the guards starts leading him away.

I exhale, rubbing my temples.

Oh, I didn't have to get involved? Right. Because Jake arguing with a five-year-old and then a bodybuilder was completely normal and in no way reckless.

I sigh, glancing at the cheap cuffs on my wrists.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

.

.

.

"So... you drop-kicked a large man?" Chris asks, disbelief clear on his face.

I nod. "It was a last-minute decision."

Jake scoffs, leaning against the bars. "What an idiot."

I snap my head toward him. "I'm the idiot? You're the one who started a fight with a five-year-old!"

Jake glares. "Five and a half!" he corrects, as if that somehow justifies it.

My eye twitches. "Oh yeah, that makes all the difference."

I saw a side of Jake today that I didn't even think existed.

He shoots me a glare. "Yeah, but it doesn't make sense for both of us to be in here, does it?"

I huff, crossing my arms. "This is the thanks I get for helping you?"

Jake doesn't even bother looking at me. He presses his cheek against the cell now as he looks the opposite direction, muttering under his breath, "I didn't ask for your help."

Chris sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just... don't make things worse. The last thing I need is to plan two funerals because two morons got themselves thrown in a cell together."

Jake smirks, pushing off the bars. "You know, for a guy who just woke up, you sure have a lot of energy to complain."

Chris shoots him a deadpan look. "If you two didn't act like children, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Yeah, well..." Jake stretches, that smug grin creeping back. "It's kinda fun watching you in this state. Mismatched socks and all."

Chris exhales sharply. He doesn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, he turns to me.

"And how did someone of your size manage to drop-kick a man that big?"

I shift awkwardly, suddenly very aware of their eyes on me. "Uh... adrenaline?"

Chris shakes his head, clearly too exhausted to argue. I just hope they're not picturing me with hulking muscles or something. People used to  picture things like that all the time when I was younger, just because I had a habit of... well, getting into fights.

Chris studies us both for a long moment, then mutters under his breath, "You guys are impossible."

Before I can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the room. A security guard steps up, jingling a set of keys.

"Your payment went through." he announces. "They're free to go."

The cell door swings open, and I step out, stretching my arms dramatically. "I feel like I've been locked up for years."

Chris gives me a dry look. "It's been 5 minutes."

"Y'all rich or what?" I say jokingly, stretching my back.

Jake steps out beside me. "What about my sister?" His voice is serious, laced with the first real concern I've heard from him all day.

I blink. "Oh yeah!" Right. We were supposed to be chaperoning her class trip. Not, you know, getting arrested.

Chris leans against the desk, looking unimpressed. "I told her you guys stayed back to enjoy the amusement park. She doesn't suspect a thing."

I exhale in relief. That was a solid cover story.

Stepping outside, I stretch my legs, inhaling the cool night air. "The amusement park's still open?"

Chris follows, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Yeah, for another hour."

A grin spreads across my face. "Then let's hit one roller coaster before we call it a day!"

Jake walks out last, raking a hand through his hair, still visibly annoyed. "No chance. Not after the mess you made today. Nope.

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.

"Smile for the picture!" I shout over the wind, throwing up a peace sign as the roller coaster hurtles forward. I spot the camera just in time, grinning like I'm in a toothpaste commercial.

Jake, on the other hand, looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Completely unbothered, emotionless, like he's waiting for this ride to end so he can go home and take a nap. Meanwhile, Chris is screaming like he's just been launched into space. Ironic, considering we literally dragged him here after waking him up from his nap.

"Haven't been on a roller coaster in a hot minute!" Chris yells between shrieks.

"It's cold." Jake mutters flatly, deadpan as ever. The sheer contrast between these two is almost enough to make me lose it. He didn't even want to be here in the first place, and now he's just resigned himself to the experience like an exhausted parent.

Once the ride ends, I immediately sprint to the photo booth, eager to see how we all looked. When I spot our picture, I burst into laughter.

"Jake looks like he's going through it!" I say, holding it up.

His pose is hilarious—he's got the peace sign up, but his eyes are half-lidded, looking so exhausted, like he's aged ten years in the span of this one ride. I swear I can almost see the dark circles under his eyes. The man looks defeated, yet somehow, he still managed to attempt the peace sign.

Jake glances at the picture, unimpressed, but he doesn't say anything.

Chris, however, groans. "Damn, they took the picture right when I was screaming..."

I take another look and nearly die laughing. "Your peace sign didn't even form all the way! It looks like you're flipping off the camera!"

Chris rolls his eyes, but there's amusement in them. "You seem to be quite the photogenic one, princess." he says, shifting his attention to my part of the picture.

And, yeah—I have to admit, I look great. My hair is flowing perfectly with the wind, my peace sign is flawless, and my smile is wide and natural. Absolute perfection.

I grin. "I never take a bad picture."

Chris raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Is that so?"

I nod confidently and hold up the photo. "Sorry, guys, but I'm keeping this one copy!"

Jake, still unimpressed, just rolls his eyes as they both stand on either side of me, studying the picture with wildly different expressions.

"I wasn't going to stop you anyway." Jake mutters, sounding so done.

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