7. Logan

7

LOGAN

" T hat thing comes with a fully stocked minibar, right?" I joke, nodding my chin at Sierra's sleek private jet. I'm trying to lighten the mood, but my attempt at humor falls flat.

Today is even harder than the first time I said goodbye to her, because I know exactly how all of this could turn out.

Sierra gives me a sad smile. "Logan…"

I swallow hard, my chest aching with the deepest kind of pain. "You sure you can't stay a few more days?"

She reaches out and squeezes my hand tight. "I wish I could. You have no idea how much I want to stay."

"Then stay," I say. "Call your manager. Tell her you need more time."

Sierra's eyes fill with tears. "I can't. I have commitments, contracts. People are counting on me."

I want to be selfish, but I force myself to nod. "I know. I understand."

But I don't. Not really. All I understand is that the woman I love is about to walk out of my life again, and I'm powerless to stop it.

"Logan, this past month has been so wonderful," Sierra says, her voice heavy with emotion.

I cup her face in my hand, stroking her cheek with my thumb. Should I say it? Is now the right time to tell her I love her?

Before I can, a man in a crisp uniform approaches. "Miss Adams, we're ready for takeoff."

Sierra nods, then turns back to me. "I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I land. We'll figure out a way to see each other soon. I don't know exactly what it'll look like, but we'll make it work. Okay?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. Sierra moves closer, wrapping her arms around me. I pull her tight against my chest, breathing in the scent of her hair, trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I already miss you," I murmur against her ear.

She pulls back just enough to look up at me. "I already miss you, too. But we'll see each other again soon. I promise."

We share one last kiss before she reluctantly steps away. Every part of me is in anguish as I watch her walk toward her private jet, her hair blowing in the breeze. She turns back once, giving me a small wave before disappearing into the plane.

I remain motionless as the jet's engines roar to life. My chest tightens as I watch the jet taxi down the runway and take off…

…growing smaller and smaller until it's just a speck in the sky.

The past month rushes through my mind in a swirl of memories. Having her there at the ranch, kissing her under the stars, laughing until we forgot what we were laughing about in the first place. Spending that time with her ended up being beyond anything I could have imagined when she first showed up.

And I'm hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.

Part of me wants to believe that we have a real shot at making this work. That we can overcome the distance, her demanding career, the vastly different worlds we live in. But another part of me, the part that's been burned before, whispers doubts.

How can we possibly bridge the gap between Montana and LA? Between my simple ranch life and her glittering world of fame?

I draw in a long breath, trying to quiet the warring voices in my head. Only time will tell how this plays out. For now, all I can do is hold onto hope.

Sierra: Hey cowboy, you up?

Me: For you? Always. How'd the interview go?

Sierra: Ugh, brutal. The host kept asking about my "love life" and if I'm seeing anyone. At least I'm an expert at dodging questions like that.

Me: That's my girl. Wish I could've been there to glower at him from offstage.

Sierra: Ha! I would've paid to see that. How are things at the ranch?

Me: We just got a new mare. Her name's Rocket. You'd like her.

Sierra: Send me a pic?

Me: Of course. One sec.

Sierra: Aww! She looks like such a sweet old girl. I wish I could be there to meet her in person.

Me: Me too. The ranch isn't the same without you.

Sierra: I miss you, Logan. So much.

Me: I miss you too, beautiful. Every damn day.

Me: Hey, gorgeous. I just caught your interview on Good Morning America. You killed it.

Sierra: Really? I felt so off. Pretty sure I stumbled over half my words.

Me: Nah, you were great. Charming as always.

Sierra: Thanks. I wish I'd worn a different dress, though. My thighs looked huge.

Me: Sierra, come on. You looked gorgeous. Your thighs are perfect.

Sierra: You're sweet, but you have to say that.

Me: I don't have to say anything. It's the truth.

Sierra: Thank you. I'm sorry to even say stuff like that. The media just gets in my head sometimes.

Me: Fuck the media.

Sierra: God, I miss you.

Me: I miss you too. You have no idea how much.

Sierra: Pretttty sure I do know.

Me: Are you alone right now?

Sierra: Why do you ask, Magnuson?

Me: Because I want to tell you just how fucking perfect your thighs are, among other things, but I don't want to get you hot and bothered if it's inappropriate timing.

Sierra: Mmm. I see. Well, I'm very alone right now…and I'm lying in bed…

Me: That's it. I'm calling you.

Me: So, have you given any more thought to my brilliant plan? You know, the one where you move back here and we have those three kids?

Sierra: Oh, absolutely. I've already picked out names. How do you feel about Rusty, Bessie, and Buck?

Me: Perfect. I'll start building the treehouse tomorrow. Think we can potty train them before they're two?

Sierra: Piece of cake. They'll be riding horses by then, too.

Me: Naturally. And I assume you'll be teaching them how to muck out the stalls?

Sierra: Of course. It's an essential life skill.

Me: You're perfect, you know that?

Sierra: Nah, you're the perfect one.

Me: On a more serious note…I've been looking at flights to LA. Any chance you'll have a few days free next month?

Sierra: I wish. My schedule's insane right now. Album promo, photo shoots, talk shows...it's non-stop.

Me: Damn. What about the month after?

Sierra: Let me check...ugh, I'm booked solid then too. This is so frustrating.

Me: There's gotta be a way we can make this work.

Sierra: Wait, what about the week of the 15th? I have a three-day break between tour rehearsals.

Me: Absolutely. I'll book my tickets right now.

Sierra: Are you sure you can get away from the ranch?

Me: For you? I'll make anything work.