For the Love of the Law

Chapter Eighteen | Just Like The Movies

My laughter died when I thought about that trip. The last one we took as a happy, fulfilled family. 

When mum and dad didn't disagree on everything, when they still looked at each other like they just belonged with each other. 

"What are you thinking?" Flynn asked me quietly when he noticed I'd gotten quiet. I shrugged, sighing a little as a more somber mood washed over my memory of the vacation.

"Just about how that was the last family holiday we had where we were actually happy." 

I felt Flynn's eyes on the side of my face, and suddenly, my hand was engulfed in something big, strong, and warm. 

Looking down, it was Flynn's hand, the one that had been clutching the gear stick. I looked up and grinned at him, my pulse fluttering slightly as I ran my thumb over his knuckles and settled our hands on my lap. 

And we sat like that for the rest of the trip to the carnival.

* * * * 

I'd never laughed so much in my entire life. 

Not even when Sophie got a Barbie hair brush stuck up her nose and we had to go to the hospital to get it removed. Not even when Marley got chased by the neighbours cat and fell into the biggest mud puddle trying to jump the fence back into our property.

Not even when I watched Get Him To The Greek. And I loved that movie. 

"Flynn, you're not going to win it, just give up!" I half yelled, half laughed as I watched the man I was slowly becoming far too attached to try to win the giant alligator stuffed toy from the Shoot-The-Duckies game. He had the perfect stance to shoot a gun, which I guess came from being a cop, but the little red gun in his hands made him look far too intense as he rolled his shoulders in preparation for his fourth round.

Fourth round.

I'd fast learned that Flynn didn't just give up. No, he'd probably spend all night at this one stand until they closed or he ran out of coins. 

"I can't, then he wins." Flynn muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the stationary ducks. By 'him', I knew he meant the guy running the stand, leaning up against the table with a smug look on his face. You could just see him counting all the money he was getting out of Flynn in his head.

"The games rigged, you can tell." I said to him, standing just behind him as the guy hit the button to makes the ducks move against the back wall. I watched as the cute little yellow painted pieces of thin wood started to move at a frenzied pace, back and forth, up and down, round and round. 

To just anyone, this game seemed too hard.

To Flynn, who held a gun every day, it would be childs play.

Or so he had told me as we approached this stand four turns ago.

"Shit!" He growled, slamming the gun down on the table as the ducks slowly came to a stop, only one remaining upright. I bit my lip again, trying to force the laughter down, but I didn't succeed when Flynn turned and shot me a glare. 

"Are you laughing at me?" 

"No."

Flynn's eyes were still narrowed, but his mouth was flirting with the idea of a smile as he stalked closer to me. "You are."

"Well, that little boy has been waiting for a turn for ages." I pointed at the little sandy blonde haired kid with big green eyes and pudgy little hands, one clutched in what looked like his older sisters hand who had been standing behind us for the past fifteen minutes.