Chapter 7
Trust’s Tipping Point
Julia’s POV
The next morning, Logan shows up at the studio before I even have a chance to open.
He leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, those intense green eyes pinning me in place. “I want to talk,” he says.
His voice is low, controlled, but I hear the tension beneath it.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Okay. Let me grab my keys.”
We step inside, and I flick on the lights. The studio is still a mess from the break-in, the scene’s been processed and I can start to clean up. The broken mirror is covered, but it haunts me.
Logan’s gaze flicks around the room, his jaw clenching. “I should’ve been here sooner.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t your fault, Logan.”
His eyes snap back to mine, dark with frustration. “Someone is targeting you, Julia. And I don’t think it’s random.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
He studies me for a long moment. “I don’t believe you.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed. “Logan, I—”
The door swings open before I can finish. Carla steps inside, her expression guarded. “Everything okay?”
Logan’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “That depends on Julia.”
I look between them, my pulse hammering. Carla doesn’t even know yet. Though I have decided to confide in her. I have to tell someone or I may just lose my mind completely.
My stomach clenches. “I—I need more time.”
His expression darkens. “We don’t have time. Someone is threatening you, and I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the walls closing in. “I promise, Logan. Soon.”
He exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if another threat shows up, I want to be the first person you call. No more shutting me out.”
I nod, though the guilt nearly crushes me.
I press the steaming cup of chamomile tea between my palms, staring blankly at the swirling liquid. The rhythmic hum of the ocean outside Carla’s bungalow is usually comforting, but tonight it only magnifies the chaos in my mind.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I murmur, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Carla leans forward, her brows furrowed in concern. “Start with the truth, Julia. The whole truth.”
I swallow hard, the weight of my secret pressing against my chest like a vice. “Lily is Logan’s daughter,” I finally whisper.
Carla’s eyes widen in shock, her wineglass pausing mid-air before she carefully sets it down. “Oh. My. God.”
I nod, exhaling sharply. “I should’ve told him the moment I came back, but how? How do you look a man in the eye after seven years and say, ‘Oh, by the way, you have a daughter’?”
Carla shakes her head, running a hand through her auburn waves. “You don’t. Not like that. But Julia, he has to know. Especially now.”
I rub my temples, my exhaustion catching up to me. “I know, but… I don’t even know how to begin. I mean, I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because I had to.”
Carla sighs, her expression softening. “I get it. You were young, scared, and dealing with more than any twenty-one-year-old should have to. But Logan isn’t just some guy from your past, Jules. He’s Lily’s father. He deserves the chance to protect her.”
Her words settle deep in my gut. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Logan is already in full protective mode, even without knowing the truth. And if I tell him, I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.
The thought of that —of losing him again—terrifies me more than the threats that keep appearing like ghosts from my past.
The Bond Between Us
After I leave Carla’s place, I head straight home. My neighbor leaves and the house is quiet. The soft glow of Lily’s night light spills into the hallway as I check in on her. She’s curled up, one arm draped over her stuffed bunny, her tiny lips parted in sleep.
I kneel beside her bed, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “What do I do, baby?” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
The answer doesn’t come, of course. But deep down, I know.
I have to tell Logan.
I have to trust that the man I once loved—the man I’m still in love with—will understand.
A Chilling Discovery
I grab my phone, pulling up Logan’s number. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the call button.
Before I can press it, a soft rustling sound from outside makes my breath catch.
My pulse spikes.
I move to the window, peering into the darkness. Nothing.
Shaking my head, I turn back—
And freeze.
A folded slip of paper has been shoved beneath my front door.
My hands tremble as I pick it up, my heart pounding in my ears.
I unfold it slowly, dread pooling in my stomach.
The words are scrawled in jagged handwriting.
Secrets don’t stay buried forever, Julia. And neither do mistakes.
I stumble back, a cold sweat breaking over my skin.
Because beneath the message, there’s an emblem.
A familiar emblem.
One that I haven’t seen in nearly a decade.
One that I never wanted to see again.
And suddenly, I know.
This isn’t just about me anymore.
They know about Lily.
My breath comes fast and shallow as I stare at the note in my trembling hands. The emblem—it’s unmistakable. A jagged, circular insignia I remember all too well, burned into my memory like a scar.
Mac.
The air around me turns stifling, my ears ringing as the world tilts beneath me.
They know about Lily.
My stomach clenches in fear. I rush toward the hallway, throwing open the door to Lily’s bedroom. My heart stutters when I see her curled up in bed, breathing evenly, her small chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.
Tears prick my eyes as I kneel beside her, brushing my fingers lightly over her curls.
I can’t let them take her.
I won’t let them near her.
I swallow the lump in my throat, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before standing, my mind racing. I should call Logan. I know I should. But how do I explain this without revealing the one thing I’ve been terrified to tell him?
That Lily is his.
That my past isn’t just mine to deal with anymore—it’s wrapped around our daughter, pulling her into the same darkness I’ve spent years trying to escape.
I close my eyes, inhaling sharply before retreating to the kitchen. My hands shake as I fumble for my phone, scrolling to Logan’s name. I hesitate again, but before I can lose my nerve, I hit call.
It rings once. Twice.
Then his deep, gruff voice comes through the line. “Julia?”
The sound of his voice steadies me, just enough for me to breathe. “I—I got another note,” I whisper, gripping the edge of the counter.
Silence.
Then, a sharp intake of breath. “Where are you?”
“At home,” I say. “It was slipped under my door.”
“I’m on my way,” he says immediately.
“Logan, wait—”
Too late. The call disconnects.
I exhale shakily, pressing a hand to my chest, trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. It doesn’t work.
Because deep down, I know.
This isn’t over. It’s only just beginning.
The Weight of Secrets
Fifteen minutes later, Logan’s truck roars into my driveway. The headlights cut through the night, and the second the engine shuts off, the door swings open and Logan steps out, his towering frame moving with barely restrained urgency.
I barely have time to process before he’s on my porch, pounding on the door.
I unlock it quickly, and the moment I swing it open, he’s there—filling the space, radiating tension. His green eyes scan me from head to toe, as if searching for injuries.
Then his gaze drops to the note I’m still gripping in my hands. His jaw clenches. “Let me see.”
I hand it over wordlessly, stepping back as he unfolds the paper. His eyes darken as he reads, his fingers tightening around the edges.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed. “I—I think I know who sent it.”
His gaze snaps to mine, sharp and unreadable. “Who?”
I hesitate, my pulse hammering. “Mac.”
Logan goes completely still.
For a moment, I think he might not have heard me. Then his entire body tightens like a coiled spring. His jaw tics, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Marcus Bennington?” His voice is low, dangerous.
I nod, my throat dry. “I think so.”
Logan exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Julia. You should’ve told me sooner.”
“I didn’t know it was him until now,” I argue, but my voice shakes. “I thought—I thought I left that part of my life behind.”
He stares at me, eyes burning with something unreadable. “You don’t just ‘leave’ men like Mac behind.”
The weight of his words settles heavily between us.
I look away, guilt creeping in. “I was trying to protect Lily,” I whisper.
The moment I say her name, Logan stiffens. “What does Lily have to do with this?”
My stomach drops. I almost slipped.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, too quickly. “I just—I don’t want her involved.”
Logan narrows his eyes. He doesn’t believe me. But before he can press further, he refocuses on the note.
“This bastard isn’t just sending warnings,” he mutters. “He’s testing you. Seeing how far he can push before you break.”
A chill skates down my spine.
Logan folds the note carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “You’re not staying here tonight.”
I blink. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, his voice firm. “You and Lily are coming with me. I’m not taking chances with this.”
My breath catches. “Logan, I—”
He steps closer, towering over me, his voice dropping lower. “This isn’t a negotiation, Julia. If Mac is involved, you’re in serious danger. And that means Lily is too.”
I flinch.
Because he doesn’t know the half of it.
But I can’t fight him on this. Not when my own fear is gnawing at me, whispering that he’s right.
After a long moment, I nod. “Okay.”
His expression softens —just a little—but the intensity in his eyes remains. “Pack a bag. We leave in ten.”
A Dangerous Game
Logan’s house is quieter than I remember.
It’s been years since I stepped inside, but everything about it still feels so... him. Strong, solid, steady. Just like the man himself.
Lily is asleep in the spare bedroom, curled up beneath the thick quilt Logan pulled from the closet. I tuck the blanket around her a little tighter, my chest aching as I watch her sleep.
Logan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his presence a steady hum in the background. “She okay?”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
He studies me for a long moment before finally exhaling. “You should get some sleep too.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. Not after tonight.”
Logan watches me, his gaze unreadable. Then he pushes off the doorframe and steps closer. “Come on.”
I hesitate. “Where?”
He jerks his head toward the living room. “You need a drink.”
I let out a weak laugh, exhaustion creeping into my bones. “That obvious?”
A ghost of a smirk touches his lips. “You’re wound up tighter than a goddamn tripwire. Come on.”
I follow him into the living room, where he pours two glasses of whiskey. I take the glass he offers and sink onto the couch, my body finally giving in to the weight of the night.
Logan lowers himself beside me, close but not touching. His presence is grounding, steady.
For a while, we sit in silence, the only sound the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.
Then, softly, Logan speaks.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His words wrap around me, warm and solid, a promise I want to believe.
I glance at him, my heart twisting at the intensity in his gaze.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than fear.
I feel safe.
But deep down, I know...
This is only the calm before the storm.