Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

I stand on the hillside, my hand intertwined with Logan’s as we watch the circus pack up. The colorful tents fold like origami, disappearing into trucks. Workers scurry about, their laughter and chatter carried on the breeze, but my attention is on the phone in my hand. The screen glows with an article that makes my heart race.

“You need to see this,” I say.

He looks down as I start reading aloud.

“ Court Clowns Around: Circus Owner Cleared of All Charges ,” I read. “ In a stunning turn of events, Logan Whitmere, owner of Cirque des Miroirs, has been exonerated of all charges related to the assault and subsequent death of Patrick Cole. ”

Logan’s grip on my hand tightens. “Damn. Guess it’s real.”

“ Justice takes center ring ,” I continue, “ as evidence presented revealed the corruption of local officials which is now currently under investigation. The forensic lab confirmed that evidence had been manufactured, including the crowbar allegedly used in the assault .”

His eyebrows rise. “Coming in a little late with that, forensics lab.”

“Okay, someone at the Forrester Independent was having way too much fun with these puns. Both Sheriff Dunham and the county attorney’s office walk a tightrope. Though it remains to be seen who will take the lion’s share of the blame.”

He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

“ In lighter news, the community has rallied behind the circus, which debuted a new show to critical acclaim only days after Whitmere was released from custody. Which just proves that the “Big Top” tent can hold up even with the highest stakes .” I groan. “I’ve never understood puns. Like, we don’t even have lions.”

I lower the phone and look up at Logan.

His eyes are shining with unshed tears.

My throat clenches. “Wait. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“You didn’t,” he says, his voice thick.

Love swells inside me. Along with pride.

Even if they did have to say it like a cheesy freaking T-shirt.

He holds me close, turning to watch our circus family pack up. Profound relief washes over me. The weight we’ve carried for so long is finally lifted.

Logan kisses my forehead gently. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

I smile up at him. “Here’s to us.”

Maisie shows up just as the last of the tents come down, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement. She practically bounces over to us, a ball of energy wrapped in blonde curls. “Have you seen the news?” she asks.

“We were just reading it,” I tell her.

“And there’s more. I’m going to be your official PR representative.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Don’t you mean that you’re going to juggle the press?”

She looks confused. “What?”

“Don’t ask.” Logan looks amused and resigned. “And if you want the job, you’re hired. We’ll probably need it now that you’ve catapulted us to internet stardom.”

She grins. “Your performers get all the credit. We can do behind-the-scenes videos, interactive social media posts, live streams of rehearsals. This is going to rock.”

I study my friend’s expression. “You’re really serious about this? I mean, I understand why I wanted to leave town, but you love it here.”

“Absolutely. It gives me an excuse to stick around a certain grumpy asshole.”

I glance over at Wolfgang, who stands a little ways off, his knife glinting in the late afternoon sun as he expertly flips it through his fingers. “Get it, girl.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning the circus grounds. “Plus, you know. I’m ready to see a little bit more of the world. Turns out Forrester’s kind of shitty, what with the whole fake-evidence, corrupt-sheriff thing.”

Logan snorts.

“We are going to come back, though,” I warn her. “I have not been able to convince my mom about the miracles of modern plumbing in RVs, so I have to visit.”

Maisie beams at me. “Perfect. I’ll want to visit my parents, anyway.”

Her blonde curls bounce as she walks beside Wolfgang, her chatter filling the air like birdsong. Next to her, Wolfgang’s tall, imposing figure moves with a quiet, probably lethal grace, his serious demeanor a stark contrast to her effervescence.

Logan watches them, his expression pensive. “She’ll make a good addition.”

“To the circus or to Wolfgang?”

“To both.”

I grin. “It’s funny how love works, isn’t it?”

“Funny,” he agrees, but he’s not looking at them.

He’s looking at me.

Warmth spreads through me. His arm wraps around my waist, and I lean into him, feeling his steady heartbeat against my side. For the first time in forever, the future looks bright. “So, we’re going to choose the tour stops soon. Everyone wants the show.”

“We’ll tour until you’re ready to stop.”

Surprise lifts my eyebrows. “Why would I want to stop?”

“Eventually you might prefer life off the road.”

“Where would we go then?”

“The farm,” he replies without hesitation.

My lips curve. “The farm?”

“It’s a real place.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, savoring the picture he’s painted. A sense of contentment washes over me. “I’d like that. Assuming it’s not a code name for some kind of LSD trip.”

Logan turns to face me, his eyes intense and amused. “It’s a real place. A beautiful place, but it’s not my home. That’s wherever you are.”

His hands frame my face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he’s afraid I might slip away. His thumb brushes against my cheek, tracing a path down to my lips. I close my eyes, leaning into his caress, enjoying the rough calluses on his fingers—a testament to a life of hard work, of a circus built rope by rope.

His breath is warm on my skin as he leans in, his lips finding mine in a soft, exploratory kiss. It deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. I grant him access, and his tongue sweeps in, dancing with mine in a rhythm that’s uniquely ours.

I press closer, my body molding against his.

His heartbeat pounds steady and strong, a comforting drumbeat that reminds me we’re alive, we’re together. We’re home. His hands slide down my back, pulling me tighter, as if he can’t get enough.

His lips trail down my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

I gasp, my head falling back, giving him better access.

He takes advantage, his mouth finding that sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He knows my body so well, knows how to make me shiver with desire.

My hands roam the hard planes beneath his shirt. I tug at the fabric, needing his skin against mine. He pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. My fingers trace the colorful circus tattoos across his biceps and shoulders, each one a story, a piece of him.

“Sunset,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. It’s a promise, a vow. A testament to our shared history, our shared pain, our shared triumphs.

I reach up, pulling him back to me, our lips meeting in a fierce, claiming kiss. In this moment, we’re not just two people on a hillside; we’re two souls intertwined, healing each other, making each other whole.

I stand there with Logan, the horizon stretching out before us, and my heart swells with a mixture of relief, gratitude, and hope. “You know,” I begin, my voice soft but steady, “when I look back at everything we’ve been through—the violence, the murder charge, the circus. It makes me wonder how we juggled it all.”

Logan curses under his breath.

“I’m starting to see the appeal of puns, honestly. We don’t need to take everything so seriously. Sometimes you just need to clown around.”

“I’m going back to jail.”

“Sometimes you’re the ringmaster. Sometimes you’re the clown.” My smile fades. “I’m sorry about Emerson. I never thought that I would—”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“He left because of me.”

“He left because he’s a prick who doesn’t like answering to anyone.”

“I took over when I had no right to.”

“Yes, Sunset. You took over something that was falling apart and made it whole again. You believed in me when I was ready to give up. You showed me what love really means—standing up for what’s right against any odds.”

“So, you aren’t mad at me?”

“Darling, haven’t you noticed by now? I’m obsessed with you.”

“Mmm, those things don’t seem mutually exclusive.”

Logan’s thumb brushes a tear away from my cheek. “I’m not angry. You stood up against bullies the day we met, remember? It’s the first thing I noticed about you.”

I swipe the tears from my eyes, trying to play it off. “I thought you noticed my tits.”

“That was the second thing.”

He proceeds to show me how much he appreciates every square inch of me. And I let him, because he taught me something, too. I already knew how to fight. My God, I’d done enough of it already. And I’m sure there’s more in my future, the world being what it is.

The fighting may be necessary, but it’s the loving that makes it worth it.