Chapter 26
twenty-six
O range flames licked the night sky.
Cade stared at Bayou Beignets, completely engulfed in fire. Streams of water shot onto the blaze, which greedily consumed everything in the charred building. Clouds of black smoke billowed away from the residue, drifting toward the starless sky as the fire truck’s strobe lights flashed.
Cade drew a deep breath of smoky air and immediately regretted it. He turned his face into his elbow and coughed. Firemen soaked the roofs of the shops next door with more hoses, calling caution to the crowd pressing against the barriers constructed on the road.
“What happened?” He didn’t expect Noah or Owen to have an answer—they’d been there as long as he had—but the question begged to be asked. They’d just been there the night before.
Noah’s face was drawn, arms crossed as he stood beside Cade on the sidewalk, apart from the crowd. “They don’t know. Chief said it started during the circus.” He exhaled. “Thankfully, no one was there.”
Cade released another cough. “Does Zoey know?”
Noah pointed. Cade followed his gesture to a spot in the shadows, where Zoey stood silhouetted against the fire truck headlights with Linc. Her face was burrowed into his wide shoulder, and he cupped the back of her head, as if to prevent her from turning around to watch. Smoke cut through the air around them.
Cade’s heart twisted. Poor Zoey—watching her shop burn while the entire town lingered. Even now, Madame Paulette tried to question Captain Sanders while the man balanced a hose on his shoulder. Mrs. Peters and Trish also pressed against the roadblocks, though he suspected, judging by Mrs. Peter’s bossy frown and Trish’s flirty smile, it was for two very different reasons.
“I’m gonna go attempt to help with crowd control.” Noah rolled his eyes in the direction of Madame Paulette. “And I’ll let you know if I hear anything on the cause. Do you need to get back to Rosalyn?”
He should. But would it look bad to the town if he abandoned the emergency, as mayor-elect? Did Rosalyn even want to see him? “I’ll stick around for a bit, see if I can do anything.”
She wouldn’t just leave, right?
“I’m sure Dad will be here any minute if he’s not already.” But he didn’t see his father in the lingering crowd.
Cade shoved his hands in his pockets as a new worry occurred—were people going to want refunds? Rosalyn had been a featured performance and had barely had a chance to do a single skill before the entire event shut down.
And would she be able to perform tomorrow night for the final show?
Not that she owed it to him to stay. He’d been a jerk, as Linc had candidly pointed out.
Someone tapped his shoulder. “Excuse me.”
Cade turned.
The middle-aged man who had been sitting with Trent stood before him, sympathetic eyes peering beneath thick brows. He had to be six-foot-three. Trent stood to the man’s right, wearing his trademark sunglasses and blazer.
“This a horrible time for introductions, but I’m Marc Oliver from WiseNet Productions.” The taller man extended his hand. “You know Trent.”
“Yes, of course.” Cade shook his hand. “I appreciate you coming.” He gestured to what remained of Bayou Beignets. “I’m sorry your visit worked out like this. This isn’t our best night.” Though it was certainly going worse for others. His gaze darted back to Zoey, heart dropping.
“Things happen. This is a shame, for sure.” Marc stepped back as a chunk of burnt roof fell into the building. Heat surged and fresh ash rose into the sky. “I will say, I think Magnolia Bay has a lot of potential.”
Cade heard the unspoken conjunction hovering in the air. “But?”
“But you guys aren’t there yet.” Marc gestured toward the smoke. “Between this new eyesore and all the repairs still needed around town…unfortunately, it’s not film-ready. And I can tell it won’t be for some time.”
Cade’s stomach knotted. He fought to keep his smile and professionalism. “I understand. Maybe you’ll give us another try in a few years.”
Assuming there was still a town by then. Assuming the Blue Pirogue didn’t close and the shops didn’t start slowing dropping like flies as tourism slowed…
The knot tightened.
“You put on quite a production earlier—we were impressed with what we got to see.” Marc’s smile dropped into concern. “And I sincerely hope your aerialist is okay.”
He nodded. “Me too.” Rosalyn wasn’t his though, was she?
“We’ll get out of your hair. You obviously have your hands full.” Marc nodded toward Trent. “I’m sorry we don’t have better news.”
“Yeah, sorry, man.” Trent clapped him on the shoulder as Marc started down the sidewalk. “I really wanted this to happen.”
So did he. “I know.” Cade cleared his throat. “We’ll keep in touch.”
“You got it.” Trent shot him a thumbs-up before hurrying to catch up to his boss.
Smoke curled around him. Cade coughed as he stared at the steaming structure. Firemen hoisted long hoses. Ash drifted lazily from the sky. The acrid scent of defeat hung heavy in the air.
He had to tell his father he wasn’t running. He clearly wasn’t fit for a leadership role. So many people depending on him to make Magnolia Days the most profitable one ever, and he’d failed.
But if he didn’t run, he put his father in a bind and would fail his family name.
His lungs constricted. Cade was tired of no-win situations. He didn’t have what it took to pass the bar. He didn’t have what it took to run his hometown.
He didn’t have what Rosalyn needed. And could he blame her after last night?
Cade checked his phone on the off chance she’d texted him back. He’d let her know when he left with Owen that he wanted to talk as soon as she was ready, and he’d keep her posted on the fire.
No responses.
A surprised gasp sounded to his left, as Sadie, Harper, and several new onlookers joined the group. “What happened?” Sadie’s face was stricken as she looked at Cade for answers. He looked down at his cell, then at the fire, and shook his head.
He had none.
* * *
She was so tired of falling.
Rosalyn cautiously re-entered the deserted circus tent, one hand on the gear bag she’d forgotten backstage. She’d driven almost all the way to Bayou Beignets to find Cade before realizing and turning back to go grab it. Now, everyone was gone—gathered at the fire, most likely.
The emergency had gotten the paramedics off Rosalyn’s back, who had wanted her to go to the hospital as a precaution, but that was hardly worth the despair her new friend must be going through. Poor Zoey.
Seemed like nothing about this night had gone as anticipated.
Cade’s apologies rang in her ears, hovering, making her unsure what to do with it. She
eyed her silks, still rigged in the center of the ring.
Funny how quickly things changed.
She shouldn’t be here alone, not with all the what-ifs circling her mind, but something held her in the ring, kept her eyes fixed on her silks. Her knee twinged. A nasty bruise was forming on arm. Her head pulsed, but nothing a dose of Tylenol couldn’t help. The paramedics had been cautious, as expected, but she really was okay.
Physically, at least.
Thankfully, her parents hadn’t seen her freefall. They’d planned to come tomorrow night for her final show, but now…
Would the show go on?
So many unknowns.
The portable lights were turned off, the moon shining from the open flaps and the multiples strings of fairy lights providing the only glow in the tent.
As if beckoned by an unknown force, Rosalyn dropped her bag on the packed floor and walked back to her silks, trailing her hands over the glossy fabric. It’d been way too long since she performed for herself. For joy. For love of the sport.
After everything that happened—would she get that back? Or would she always be afraid of falling now?
She swallowed. But it wasn’t just about the accidents. She stared up at the long strips of material. She’d been losing her edge way before the falls. Before Blaine’s lies, before Saudi Arabia. When had it started?
When had she lost herself?
Her knee trembled. She shuddered as the replay of her fall flashed through her mind. Figured—she’d needed the best performance of her life tonight. For Cade. For the scout, for the town.
And yet when the stakes were the highest, she’d given the worst performance possible. There was something almost poetic in that.
Rosalyn took a breath. Her pride throbbed a lot harder than her knee, though it didn’t feel great. And yet, she had to do this.
Needed to.
A prayer formed on her lips, one she couldn’t quite put to words. Then before she could change her mind, she inverted onto her silks, wrapping each pole around her foot. There was no music. No audience.
Well, maybe an audience of One. If she hadn’t disappointed him too.
She channeled her grief into the fabric. Rolling, wrapping, climbing. Her breath came in even gasps as she expelled the energy and adrenaline flowing through her weary body.
Man, she’d messed up. Big time. Trusting Blaine, being naive, letting herself get taken advantage of. Denying what was obvious out of pride.
Cade had tried to tell her the truth. But now she was stuck. The Mafia was out there—somewhere. Blaine was gone, her only link to paying off her debts. He’d have to get in touch with her eventually to handle that, but it’d be like him to leave her hanging until the last minute. Let her be scared for the way she stood up to him.
She flipped upside down into the splits, extending her leg above her head. It was her fault. Blaine held all the cards because she’d let him. Rosalyn shook out of the split wrap and climbed again, arching into a perfect pendant. Then she began to wrap for a star drop. The crash mat was no longer under her silks, but she didn’t care.
She needed Something way bigger to catch her this time.
Rosalyn wrapped the silks around her leg. Blood pounded in her temples from the upside-down pose. It wasn’t just Blaine who had her in chains. It was expectations—her mother’s, her own. A lifetime of trying to be the best.
Maybe achieving perfection all those years at school had been the issue. Maybe that’s what made Rosalyn spiral into panic when faced with the idea that she might not be perfect after all. If she wasn’t, what did she have to offer?
Maybe that’s why she clung to her pride with both hands.
She was afraid of falling from it too.
She wrapped the fabric tighter.
Held the star position, arms and legs extended, one hand grasping her silks. All she had to do was let go. This time, unlike earlier in the evening, she knew she’d wrapped correctly. But her hand felt glued to the fabric.
What if she fell?
Tears dripped off her face to the ground below. What if she never got free of Blaine or this debt? What if she never felt like she was enough for Mom? What if she never got to perform for herself again?
And Cade…her heart ached. She needed him. His very presence comforted her, challenged her. Brought out the best in her.
Made her laugh. Feel safe.
She gulped. He’d apologized, but…did he want her to stay? Could she? It seemed best to tie all this up on her own. Get away from Magnolia Bay and settle her debts, finish this paperwork nightmare of a marriage, and stand on her own two feet awhile.
Hadn’t she and Cade always been on opposing teams anyway?
She stared at the ground below her, so far away.
Surrender .
The word bubbled from her heart and echoed in her brain. Tears pricked Rosalyn’s eyes and she gripped the silks harder. No. She couldn’t surrender. Surrender meant telling her parents the truth. Letting go of pride and perfectionism. Opening her heart to Cade, taking a risk. None of that was safe.
It’d be falling all over again.
Surrender .
It came again, like a voice this time, firm but gentle.
Was God finally speaking to her?
“Help me.” The prayer slipped through her lips as more tears fell. Then a piece of fear slipped off and joined them. She swallowed. “I’m scared.” Speaking the truth out loud loosened another piece.
Maybe that’d been the secret. Simply speaking up.
And being heard by the One who had been whispering all along.
“I’m scared of rejection.” She forced boldness into her voice. “I’m scared the worst about me is true.”
The statements fell off her lips and mingled with her tears on the arena floor, each one lightening her load, loosening the knot in her chest.
“And if the worst is true…if I’m not perfect…will anyone want me?”
Rosalyn took a breath, hands shaking against the fabric.
Cade’s words from that fateful day in New Orleans, at Bruno’s, filled her mind. I don’t think that’s how that works, Ace.
She’d believed so many lies for so long, stating truths out loud suddenly felt marvelously clear. And she didn’t have to have it all together first.
She really didn’t have to be perfect.
A measure of peace slowly wedged in her heart. She couldn’t predict the future, or what Mom would think, or if Cade would stick by her through her imperfect mess.
She couldn’t control any of those things. But she could make good decisions—starting with telling her parents the whole truth. And she could tell Cade how she felt. She could squash her pride once and for all.
And fly. Rosalyn let go. Unrolled.
Soared.
Joy bubbled. The fabric caught her—or maybe love?—and Rosalyn smiled as she stood, back on solid ground. The urge to whistle overcame her, and she laughed. Yep. She could do this. She could tell the truth, could reveal her imperfection.
She could surrender.
Rosalyn let go of the fabric and turned to grab her bag. Movement fluttered across the ring as she stood upright. She looked over and froze.
A man’s silhouette blocked the tent exit.