Before I can wrench myself loose, another hand enters the fray—Logan’s.
He peels Victoria’s fingers from my wrist with ease, then positions himself between us like a human shield.
“What the hell are you doing here, Victoria?” His voice is calm yet razor-sharp.
Victoria’s transformation is swift and bewildering. The cobra becomes a kitten; her shoulders soften, her expression opens into wide-eyed vulnerability. She blinks up at Logan with doe eyes that would make Bambi jealous.
“I came to get you,” she says. “The label wants to move forward with our plans.”
“You meanyourplans,“ Logan replies flatly. I’ve never heard such coldness in his voice before.
“This will be good for us. For your image.” She reaches for his hand, but Logan recoils as if she’s offered him a handful of fire ants.
Then, in one fluid motion that steals the breath from my lungs, he drapes his arm around my shoulders, drawing me against his side. My heart hiccups as his warmth seeps through my sundress.
“The record label doesn’t control me,” he states plainly, “and neither do you.”
Victoria’s face crumples in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.Her?“ She points at me like I’m a disappointing meal she’s sending back to the kitchen.
“What if I am?” Logan challenges, chin lifting.
I find myself hoping there is genuine feeling behind his words.
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Cell phones rise in unison like periscopes, recording everything. There will be no containing this now.
“So you admit it?” Victoria’s voice climbs an octave. “Thereissomething between you two.”
The moment crystallizes—dozens of eyes on us, the spring sun warming my skin, Logan’s arm still anchoring me to his side.He removes his cap and sunglasses with deliberate slowness, revealing his face to everyone.
Meeting Victoria’s gaze, he says loudly enough for all to hear, “Yes, there is.”
The crowd erupts like someone just announced free cotton candy forever. Phones click madly, people scream and push closer. The festival turns into chaos.
“Umm . . . Logan?” I reach for his hand with a panicked grip. “We better get out of here.”
Logan finally tears his attention from Victoria, his eyes widening as he processes the impending human tsunami coming at us. He quickly jams his hat and glasses back on, then clutches my hand. “Let’s run for it!” he says.
We bolt across the grassy festival grounds like we’re fleeing a zombie apocalypse. Logan guides me expertly through the maze of booths and food trucks, ducking under awnings, weaving between carnival games, moving like he’s spent a lifetime avoiding unwanted attention.
When we reach the edge of the park, safely hidden behind a row of oak trees, he finally slows to a stop. I bend forward, hands on my knees, gasping for air.
Looking up, I freeze at what I see on his face—he’s smiling. Not his media-trained grin or his trademark smirk, but something genuine and unguarded that transforms his entire face. His eyes sparkle with what looks like joy.
A cold realization settles over me. He’s exhilarated. Energized. This isn’t the face of someone upset about being discovered—it’s the face of someone who’s gotten exactly what he wanted.
All those weeks of hiding out, the disguises, the sneaking around—was it all a game? Does he actually crave the spotlight, the drama, the chase?
For the first time since we met on his porch, I feel a profound disconnect between us. I don’t belong in his world of paparazziambushes and manufactured relationships. I don’t want to chase the spotlight nor run from it like I’ve done something wrong.
Mom was right. I am a small-town girl craving a simple life. I don’t think our paths were ever meant to cross.
Chapter 20
Idon’t have the courage to voice my apprehension about what we’re doing after escaping with Logan to his home. My stomach twists with unease. If this is what he meant by making his stay here fun—using me to create public spectacles and feeding the rumor mill—I want no part in it.
“I should probably go help my mom wrap up at the festival.” I’ve told more lies in the past few weeks than in my entire twenty-four years of life. The ease with which they tumble off my lips is worrisome. It feels like I’m losing a part of myself each time I tell one.
His smile dims. “You sure? We could order takeout and celebrate our grand escape.”
