Chapter 14 - Sierra
Fourteen
Sierra
Logan carries the box of candles as he leads me back to the Cathedral. He points to a shadowy corner as we head down the stairs. “That’s where Billy Blackstone hid all the loot.”
Inside the Blackstone chamber are a few props: some canvas bags filled with fake gold coins, an oak barrel with a glass lantern, and a tiny, rickety cot. Thick horse blankets and a ribbon-bound packet of letters lie on top.
“We recreated this room to look how it did when I discovered it,” he explains, tossing aside the reproduction Lula Maude letters. “At least it’s something.”
Logan gestures for me to sit as he sets up some candles away from anything flammable. I sit on the cot. It’s close to midnight, and I can feel the long day weighing on me.
“You should take the cot,” I say wearily. “I’m the dumbass who got us trapped down here. I’ll sleep on the ground.”
Logan gives me a look that says, You’re being ridiculous. “It’ll be tight, but we can both fit. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
I giggle as we try to situate ourselves. The cot’s small—meant for one scrawny outlaw, not two modern adults.
“I’m going to fall off,” I laugh, twisting onto my side to make more room for him.
The laughter dies when he pulls me flush against him. It feels…too good. My eyes roll back as his warmth, his scent, the solid weight of him envelop me.
I shouldn’t feel good after what I’ve done—getting us stuck here overnight. “We don’t fit. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Shh.”
“Did you just shush me?”
“Yes. Now relax.”
I can’t relax. Every inch of me feels every inch of him. Plus a few more. Okay, way more than just a few. I squirm against him, trying to open up some space between us.
“Sierra,” he says, his voice low and strained, “stop wiggling.”
I can’t help my snicker. At least I’m not the only one enjoying this too much. “It’s okay. I’ll just ignore it again.”
“Sierra.”
“Logan,” I echo, mocking his tone. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been told involuntary erections just happen.”
Logan groans and presses his forehead against my shoulder.
“Yeah, that shower idea was stupid, wasn’t it?” I say.
“What do you think?”
I can’t read his tone. “I plead the fifth.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m full of terrible ideas today. I’m not sure what the positive outcome of this one will be. At least the shower got us back to the event on time, huh?” I pause, but Logan doesn’t respond. I’m suddenly desperate to make him react. “And we kept it professional. It didn’t lead to sex.”
“Oh my god.” At least he’s laughing now.
“You know, I’ve never understood the appeal of shower sex,” I continue thoughtfully, feeling a small thrill. God, girl, how much adrenaline do I need? But I can’t stop.
“There’s never enough room for both people under the water, so you’re either overheated or freezing. Then there’s the risk of slipping. And there’s no space, so positions are limited to just—”
“Are you trying to torture me?” he growls.
“I’m being a good assistant,” I say sweetly. “Discussing the pitfalls of something we very professionally didn’t do. Though there were a few…bumps here and there.”
Logan groans again. His warm breath against my hair makes me shiver. “No one’s perfect.”
He is. The thought rings through me as strong and clear as a bell. “Some people are close.”
He snorts. “Big claim about someone who got us locked in a cave.”
“Not me. You.” I hesitate, then decide to surge ahead—the dark and his closeness making me brave. “Logan, in all seriousness, I’m in awe of you.”
“What?”
The words spill out of me in a rush. “You never let your temper get the best of you anymore. You’ve become so kind.
Thoughtful. Compassionate. I know it isn’t much coming from me.
Talk about being complimented by the lowest of the low; it’s like a slob complimenting someone’s clean house.
But still. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.
I’m…honored that you’ve let me back in to get to know you again. ”
There’s a long pause. Hot embarrassment flashes through me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I made this already awkward situation even worse.
Then I’m moving—Logan lifts me with an easy strength and rolls us until I’m lying on top of him, face-to-face.
The cot creaks in protest, then it’s quiet again.
His body is a warm, solid weight beneath me.
Our bodies fit—probably even more than they used to.
A stinging sense of loss wraps itself around my heart and squeezes.
“You’re wrong,” he says softly. “It’s everything coming from you.”
My throat tightens, and my vision blurs. I turn my face away, hoping he can’t see me tearing up, but then he gently swipes his thumb beneath my lashes. The motion is so tender that my heart gives a painful thump. I’m here, he had whispered to me in the lonely dark. And he is.
There’s more I need to say, I realize. The words press against the edges of my heart so forcefully, I’m afraid I’ll die unless I get them out.
Live fast, die young, Sierra. Now or never.
I press my ear to his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart soothe me for a second. “Logan…what you said back there. You’re not insignificant. Not to me.”
His body quiets to an unnatural stillness beneath me.
“My life may not compare to the history of the world, but you…” My breath shakes as I inhale.
I can feel the sharp intensity of his gaze on my face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you after I ran away.
I wanted to. So, so badly. Now that I know what I put you through, I regret it more than you’ll ever know. ”
“Why didn’t you?” Logan asks finally. His tone is difficult to read, and I’m not quite brave enough to look for clues in his face.
I shake my head. I don’t want to open up that can of worms and bring that bully town marshal into this private, quiet moment with Logan. “There’s nothing to say that can undo the past. We don’t need to talk about it, Logan.”
“I think we do. Sierra, look at me.”
I can’t bear to look at him. He touches my chin gently until I can’t resist the pull of his gaze. His expression is serious, searching.
“If there’s any place perfect for the baring of souls, it’s here. I think it’s time to get it off your chest.”
“So I can get off your chest?”
Logan chuckles, and I smile as my body vibrates with his laughter.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” he murmurs. “Come on, baby. It’s time.”
The old, sweetly familiar endearment unravels me like a spool of thread. I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I…”
I can’t. I can’t talk about After. My heart balks at the thought. But maybe he’s right. It’s time we spoke about Before.
His hand traces slow circles on my back, the light, steady pressure giving me courage. I take a deep breath, grateful that I can only see the faint outline of his face in the candlelight.
“You know why I left, right, Logan? About Mr. Hillerman.” I flush, heat crawling up my neck.
“John. He—god, this is terrible to say out loud. I feel so much shame. We had sex.” I hide my face against his chest again.
His shirt smells like warm candle smoke and that familiar, sea-salt fragrance I love.
“I knew it was wrong,” I say, my voice muffled against the fabric.
“But I wanted to blow everything up. Just to see what would happen. Just to change things.” I laugh bitterly. “And it did. I blew everything up.”
It’s quiet for a moment. In the distance, I can hear a plink of water, the soft rush of a breeze sweeping through a passage, the squeak of a faraway bat. If he lets go of me now, pushes me away, I’ll splinter into a thousand pieces.
But he doesn’t. Logan’s arms tighten around me.
I hesitate for a moment, then I give in, sagging against him, letting him give me his strength.
The rest of the story spills out of me in halting, frayed sentences.
John’s daughter walking in on us. How she didn’t keep it quiet—quite the opposite.
How cruel the kids at school were that day.
Then finally, when I was called into the principal’s office to talk to the authorities about a potential investigation because I was a minor.
“Your mom tried to help me. She tried to help, and I threw her kindness away.” I sigh. “And then there was you. You looked so shocked and angry when you found out.”
His hand, which was tracing lines up and down my back, paused. “I wasn’t angry at you.”
“Don’t lie to me. Yes, you were.”
His sigh lifts me a few inches. “I was angry, yes,” he admits. The fingers resume their soothing motion. “But more so because you didn’t tell me yourself what happened. Regardless of our dating drama, you were still my best friend.”
“How could you understand what I’d done?”
“You forget that I was also an agent of chaos in high school.”
I huff out a watery, hoarse laugh that sounds a tad more hysterical than I intended.
“Joking aside, I would’ve understood because I cared about you.” His hand tenderly brushes the hair away from my face.
A part of me wishes he would stop—I’m barely keeping my sobs at bay as it is. But the other, weaker part of me leans into his touch.
His expression turns serious. “But, Sierra, I need you to really hear me. The way those kids treated you at school—that’s not how the adults saw it. They saw you for what you were: a kid. That’s why someone called the cops. He knew exactly what he was doing. You were a child. He was an adult.”
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I was seventeen. I knew what I was doing. He…he called me a temptress. He was so much older, more experienced, more worldly. A goddamn councilman. I felt powerful seducing a powerful man.”