30. Nash

30

NASH

I adjust Flora’s costume again, ensuring every strap is secure. The Christmas lights twinkle throughout the big top, creating a magical atmosphere for tonight’s show. My hands tremble slightly as I check her rigging—not because of the performance but what comes after.

“Your form is perfect, little bird,” I whisper, watching her stretch. Her grace in the air has become flawless over these past weeks of training. Even with Colt sidelined by his injury, we’ve created something beautiful.

The tent fills with excited chatter as the audience files in. I catch sight of Colt in the wings, his shoulder wrapped but healing well. He gives us both a subtle nod, signaling everything is in place.

Flora’s breath catches as she spots movement near the back entrance. I squeeze her hand, reminding her she’s safe. We’ve planned this carefully. Tommy and Jake won’t know what hit them when they try their ambush after the show.

“Focus on the performance,” I remind her, though my heart races. “Nothing else exists except you and me in the air.”

The music starts to swell as Tyson’s voice booms through the tent, introducing our act. Flora takes her position on the platform, her sequined costume catching the spotlight. Despite everything weighing on us, her smile remains genuine as she gazes down at the crowd.

I climb up beside her, checking our rigging one last time. Years of experience tell me everything is secure, but tonight, I take no chances. Not with Flora’s safety on the line.

The familiar pre-show tension coils in my muscles, but it’s different tonight. Usually, I’m only thinking about nailing every move, every transition. My mind keeps drifting to what awaits us after the final bow.

Tyson finishes his introduction. The spotlight finds us. Flora’s hand finds mine as we prepare for our first synchronized drop. Whatever happens later, right now, we have a show to perform.

The music swells as Flora and I move through our first sequence. Her movements mirror mine perfectly—each twist and turn executed with a grace that makes my chest swell with pride at her accomplishment in such a short time with us, though somehow it still feels incomplete.

My eyes drift to Colt on the ground below. He’s watching us intently, his good arm crossed over his chest, the injured one held close to his body. This isn’t right. He should be up here with us, not relegated to spectator, and he will be as soon as he is fully healed.

Flora releases into a perfect split as I catch her wrists. The audience gasps, but I barely notice. I can only focus on how different this feels without Colt’s steady presence. We’ve worked out a beautiful routine, Flora and me, but it’s like performing with only two-thirds of my soul.

The three of us belong together—in the air, on the ground, everywhere. I see it in the way Colt’s free hand clenches by his side, fighting the urge to grab the ropes. I feel it in the slight hesitation before each of Flora’s releases, knowing Colt isn’t there to catch her.

I guide Flora through another sequence, but my mind keeps drifting to what comes after the show. They think they’re the hunters tonight, but Colt and I have prepared. We’ll turn their planned ambush into their worst nightmare. Tommy and Jake won’t know what hit them.

My muscles tense with anticipation as Flora executes another perfect split. Soon enough, those bastards will pay for every mark they left on her, every nightmare. Colt and I have discussed this for weeks, planning each detail. The tools are at the ready in the back of my truck.

Flora transitions into her next pose, trusting me completely. The irony isn’t lost on me—while she performs up here, her tormentors lurk below, thinking they’ll catch her vulnerable after the show.

Once we’ve dealt with them, we can be together without these shadows hanging over us. No more looking over our shoulders, no more fear in Flora’s eyes when she spots a familiar face in the crowd. Just us, whole and complete, how we’re meant to be.

I help Flora down from the rigging, my heart still racing from the performance. The applause thunders through the tent as Ty wraps up the show with his signature flair. His approving nod tells me everything I need to know—we nailed it, even without Colt up there with us.

I guide Flora through the back curtain, where Colt waits for us. His face is lit up with pride. My skin tingles when I see him, still not used to acknowledging these feelings openly.

“You were incredible up there, angel.” Colt pulls Flora into his arms, capturing her lips in a deep kiss that catches my breath. “Every move was perfect.”

“She’s a natural,” I agree, scanning the area to ensure we’re alone.

“Couldn’t have done it without Nash’s guidance and all the hours of rehearsal we put in.” Flora’s cheeks flush from Colt’s praise.

After one final check that no one’s around, Colt turns to me. His good arm slides around my waist, pulling me close as his lips find mine. The kiss is hungry, passionate—everything we’ve held back for years.

Flora watches us with darkened eyes as we break apart. I can’t resist pulling her in, tasting Colt on her lips as I kiss her. Soon, we’re trading kisses between the three of us, hands roaming, breath quickening in the shadows.

Colt groans against my mouth. “We need to stop.” He pulls back, though his hand lingers on my hip. “We have work to do first and can’t afford to get distracted.”

I nod, forcing myself to focus despite the heat coursing through my veins. He’s right—we have more pressing matters before properly celebrating tonight’s performance.