Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I pace back and forth outside the jail, the hot morning air dampening my skin. My heart pounds in my chest. It took three long days of bullshit to get the judge back in session so we could present the new evidence. With the proof of the sheriff’s corruption, it cast everything he said about Logan into doubt. The case was dismissed an hour ago.

Tricks whines softly at my feet, sensing my anxiety. I glance at the imposing building, its brick walls holding Logan captive, and a knot of dread tightens in my stomach.

Every minute lasts an eternity.

I try to focus on the rhythmic sound of my footsteps against the cracked pavement, but it does little to calm my nerves.

Finally, the heavy door creaks open, and Logan steps out. He looks rumpled and slightly filthy, his clothes disheveled from his time inside. His eyes are haunted, shadows lingering in their depths.

The sight of him makes my breath catch in my throat.

I rush to him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders in a tight embrace. Relief floods through me as I feel his solid form against mine.

He’s free.

He squeezes me back, but there’s a hesitance in his touch. His arms encircle me like they always have, but something is different now.

“I’m so glad you’re out,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low and rough-edged.

When I pull back to look at him, he doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

I step back to study his face more closely. The haunted look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. Jail has left its mark on him in ways that even sunlight can’t dispel.

“Are you okay?” My voice trembles despite my effort to keep it steady.

He gives a half-hearted nod. “Of course.”

Tricks barks and nuzzles against Logan’s leg, offering a small distraction from the tension between us. Logan kneels down to pet him, and for a moment, some of the darkness lifts from his eyes.

“We should get you home,” I say softly.

Logan stands up slowly, brushing off some of the dirt from his pants. “Home,” he says, a weariness in his tone that wasn’t there before. “Not sure I have one of those.”

A sleek, dark armored SUV pulls up beside us. The tinted windows and imposing presence make my heart skip a beat. I recognize the North Security logo on the side and turn to Logan.

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice wavering.

Logan’s jaw tightens. “I’m not going back to the circus.”

My brow furrows. “Right now?”

“Ever.”

“But you have to.”

His face darkens, shadows creeping across his features. The haunted look in his eyes intensifies, and I feel a chill run down my spine.

“I’m done with Cirque des Miroirs,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s from a different part of my life. I don’t need it anymore.”

I stare at him, stunned. The circus is his life, his passion. How can he just walk away from it all?

“You can’t mean that,” I whisper, reaching for his hand.

He pulls away, and the gesture cuts deep. “I do mean it. Being in that cell brought back everything I’ve tried to forget. I can’t go back.”

I feel like the ground is shifting beneath my feet. Everything we’ve built, everything we’ve fought for… It’s over? “But what about the performers, the crew… They need you.”

Logan’s eyes flash with a mix of pain and anger. “They’ll be fine without me. You’ve been running things while I was locked up, haven’t you?”

His words feel like a slap in the face.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

My heart breaks in that moment. Logan stands right in front of me, but he might as well be across the galaxy. The weight of his pain is palpable, hanging heavy in the air between us.

I take a step back, my legs shaking beneath me. “Logan,” I whisper, my voice quivering. “I… I love you. You know that, right?”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the man I fell in love with. But it’s quickly overshadowed by the darkness that’s consumed him.

“I know,” he says softly.

I swallow hard, fighting back tears. “Whatever you need to do, wherever you need to go… I’ll support you. No matter what. If you want to go to North Security, I’ll go with you.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue. Every fiber of my being wants to beg him to reconsider, but that’s not what he needs right now.

Logan’s gaze doesn’t quite meet mine. “Thank you,” he says, his voice a mix of relief and sorrow. “For understanding. For everything.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Tricks whines at my feet, sensing the tension in the air.

I climb into the SUV beside Logan, my heart heavy with uncertainty. The leather seats are cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth I’d imagined for our reunion. Tricks settles at my feet, his small body pressed against my leg as if sensing my need for comfort.

The SUV pulls onto the road, and I steal a glance at Logan. His jaw is set, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The man beside me is a stranger, worlds away from the passionate, driven circus owner I fell in love with.

“So, North Security,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “Alex Harrison. Cirque des Miroirs has an impressive lineup of professionals protecting it.”

Logan’s response is curt. “We have a lot of enemies.”

I nod, swallowing hard. Enemies I brought them. “Right.”

Silence falls between us again.

My mind races, replaying the last few weeks. All the work we’ve put into the circus, the new Romeo and Juliet show, keeping everyone together. It was all for him. I thought when he got out, he’d be proud, excited to see what we’ve accomplished.

“Logan,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. “About the show—”

“I told you, Sienna,” he cuts me off, his tone sharp. “I’m done with it.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard on the new show.”

He turns to me, his eyes blazing. “Did I ask you to do that?”

I shrink back, stunned by the venom in his voice. “No, but—”

“Then leave it the hell alone,” he says, turning back to the window.

His words cut deep, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes. I blink them back, determined not to let him see how much he’s hurting me.

As we drive through Forrester, I watch the familiar streets pass by. The town that once felt like a prison now seems almost welcoming compared to the cold silence in this car.

I try to tell myself it’s just the shock of his release. That he needs time to adjust, to process everything that’s happened. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers that this is something more, something permanent.