Chapter 15 - Logan
Fifteen
Logan
When I awake, the first thing I become aware of is Sierra’s face buried into my chest, her little puffs of air fluttering the fabric of my shirt. I have no idea what time it is—it feels like we’re nestled together in a timeless, dark world.
Nearby, a few stubby candles flicker weakly in a pool of hardened wax.
Several times throughout the night, I got up to light a few so we wouldn’t be completely plunged into darkness.
I remember her weak, sleepy protests every time I extracted myself, and how she snuggled against me with a happy sigh every time I returned.
Her body is warm and yielding in my arms. It feels better than anything I can remember, more right than anything else has in a long time.
And let myself acknowledge the reason. She is finally where she is supposed to be. This fearless, incredible girl belongs with me, always has.
Sierra’s eyes blink open. “Logan?”
“Good morning, baby,” I say softly.
Her eyes are warm and drowsy with sleep and affection. She lifts her head toward me, and I dip mine to meet her.
Our lips are less than a breath apart when the electric lights flicker on. Footsteps and the low rumble of Seth’s tour spiel echo through the cavern.
Sierra freezes, her mouth opening in horror. She jerks upright so fast she almost topples the cot. I reach out to steady her, but she stumbles off it clumsily, landing awkwardly on her feet like a startled cat.
“Logan?” Seth says, appearing at the entrance of the Blackstone chamber. A family trails behind him, their eyes wide under their hard hats as they take in the sight of us hiding in the cave.
I step in front of Sierra to block their view. Her dress has ridden up high on her thighs, her makeup is smeared from tears, and her hair is tousled from sleep. She looks rumpled from another activity entirely—one I wish we’d had a little more time to partake in.
“Seth! Good to see you, man,” I say. “Hello, everyone. Welcome.”
“Hey, everyone, this is my brother, Logan LaSalle, who found the treasure. Believe it or not, this is not part of the tour,” Seth says. “Do you mind going back into the main cave and giving us a minute?”
When he turns back to us, his face is bewildered, eyes darting between Sierra and me. I take another protective step forward.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“We got locked in here overnight,” I say.
I explain where I parked and how whoever locked up—according to Seth, it was Emily—must not have seen my truck and assumed we already left.
Seth looks horrified by our trial. He takes in the whole scene with wild eyes. “Do you need a hospital or anything? I can cancel the tour and take you guys.”
“We’re not hurt,” I say. “Could you take the tour group on a minor detour through the Crescent Moon route so we can slip out?”
“Sure thing!” Seth rubs the back of his head, still assessing Sierra and me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. “Man, we need to come up with some sort of safety system. I would be scared shitless to be locked in here overnight.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I say with a smile at Sierra, but she won’t meet my eyes. My heart sinks, but I push the feeling of dread away. “Ready to go?” I hold out my hand to her, but with a glance at Seth, she slips past me instead.
We sneak past the tour group and back toward the entrance. I try to retake her hand, but she is either oblivious or an artful dodger, because I can’t seem to catch it. She surges ahead of me.
“Race you to the entrance?” she asks.
“Sierra, wait,” I say, irritated.
“Come on! You can beat me easily. I’m wearing heels!”
I sigh and jog after her. We stumble out into the sunlight. I try another smile at her, but she won’t look at me.
“Hey,” I say gently. “We’re okay. We made it out.”
“People lost at sea cry ‘land’ and kiss the ground when they make it out alive,” Sierra says, still turned away from me. “What do people trapped in a cave say? ‘Sky’ and kiss the air?”
“Works for me.” I wait until she finally glances my way, then I blow her an exaggerated kiss.
She stares at my pursed lips and turns bright red. It’s a small consolation, but then she turns away again, throwing up her arms like she’s just won an Olympic medal.
“Right! Yes. Sky! Sweet sky!” she laughs. “Freedom!” She glances at me again, flustered when she catches me watching her. “We parked over there? I mean, obviously, it’s your truck right there. Duh.”
“Yep, that’s the one,” I say slowly.
In the truck, she fidgets with the air conditioning and scrolls through playlists, unable to settle on a vibe. Every movement feels exaggerated, like she’s performing on a stage.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I thought—well. Yesterday was the best day of my life. From the shower, to the event, to spending the night together. After unburdening my guilt, I feel born anew, cleansed, full of purpose.
I want Sierra back. Closure is no longer enough for me. It will never be enough, and it was foolish to pretend otherwise. Seth knew, though he warned me against it. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but Sierra…
Who is currently rolling down her passenger window with the intense focus of someone dissecting the nuclear atom.
Okay then. I can be patient. I waited seven years for her, though I didn’t realize that’s what I was subconsciously doing at the time.
I never thought she’d come back, and I can’t squander this opportunity any longer.
If she needs to be coaxed back to me, I’ll do whatever gentle persuading it takes.
“Gentle” isn’t really my style, but if that’s what it takes…
“Sierra.”
She startles. “Yes?”
“We have the day off. Let’s go climbing.”
She looks at me, truly looks, for the first time that morning. “Really?”
“I want to see what you can do. Your whole lifestyle is climbing. I bet you miss it,” I add.
“I do,” she says softly. “Yeah, let’s go!”
We quickly change when we get home. I fight to keep my hands to myself when she reappears, her eyes bright with excitement. Her pink tank top and leggings bring out the color in her cheeks, which deepens when she sees me.
She babbles nervously all the way to Isolation Canyon, bashful and flustered every time I look at her. It’s both adorable and frustrating.
Isolation Canyon is a stunning, narrow canyon with steep, rugged quartzite cliffs. We hike past spindly trees and scrubby bushes, shallow, algae-green ponds, and the occasional prickly pear cactus, until we reach a pre-drilled sport-climbing route.
We agree to her climbing first while I belay. When we perform the standard safety practice of checking each other’s climbing equipment, she leans back so far that I nearly have to drag her forward.
“What are you doing?” I ask in exasperation as she hesitantly pokes my harness with her fingertip, as if afraid to come any closer.
“You have Petzl climbing gear too! No way!” Sierra says instead.
“I love them. I won a full climbing gear pack from their sweepstakes a few years ago. It was a lifesaver—gear is so expensive. I’ve always been very lucky like that.
Did I ever tell you I also won a lifetime membership to my climbing gym too? ”
“Wow,” I say. Then, hesitantly. “It was me, actually.”
Sierra tilts her head.
“After the treasure was found. It only seemed fair at the time, since I was pouring money into the town, that you get a piece of the windfall too,” I say. I can’t interpret her look.
Soon, I’m overexplaining the whole thing, and—judging by her silent, wide-eyed stare—probably bungling it.
I explain about the private investigator, whom we hired to confirm she was still living, who provided pictures of her waitressing at a restaurant and spending all her free time at a climbing gym.
How I contacted her climbing gym, how they agreed to an anonymous gift membership and then shared that she often rented gear for outdoor climbing.
“So I purchased and mailed the Petzl gear,” I say. “It was…probably an overstep.”
She picks up the rope, the same Petzl gear I gifted her so many years ago. Her hands and eyes slide along so intently and slowly, like she’s looking for imperfections—but finding none.
“Talk to me, baby,” I murmur.
She flinches, then sighs. “Climbing means so—” She stops. “It’s playing out differently in my mind now. All the years, all those memories and incredible experiences.” She looks up at me then, her face conflicted with both dismay and awe. “It was because of you.”
“You shouldn’t give me that much credit. You would have found a way to pay for it yourself. All I did was make the path you chose a little easier.” I can’t help reaching out and tipping her chin up. “You don’t always have to struggle so hard on your own.”
“Stop being so perfect,” she mumbles. “It’s fucking annoying.” Then she grabs my harness, hauls me forward, and tugs so hard on the carabiner that I grunt.
“Careful with the equipment, baby,” I tease her. “We’ll need it later.”
“Which equipment?” She palms me roughly, and I grunt again in surprise. “This?”
My breath catches. “That’s the one.”
She runs her fingers along me as I grow hard beneath her touch. I reach for her, but she steps back again. Confusion and disappointment spike through me. She’s giving me so many mixed messages, I feel off-kilter.
“We’ll see,” she says, her poker face back in place. “Let’s climb.”
We move into position. “Belay on,” I say.
This is going to be torture. Watching her curvy, beautiful body from below, her safety depending on being focused and not distracted.
Then she starts to climb.
It’s amazing. I’m in awe of her. She scrambles over slabs, shimmies up chimney rock clefts, wedges herself into cracks.
Her footwork is like watching a prima ballerina, every move deliberate, elegant like a choreographed dance.
She extends fully, legs pressing against the barre of the rock wall, her balance perfect.
Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, swinging and swaying in time with her body. The motion is hypnotic. Muscles bunch and flex across her shoulders and back as she grips, pulls, and swings herself higher. She moves with the confidence of someone who trusts the earth itself to hold her.
Even when she falls, she’s graceful. She lands lightly, then she’s climbing again, fast, fierce, as if gravity is merely a temporary inconvenience.
After about thirty feet, she pauses on a short ledge, shaking out and stretching her fingers. “You’re doing a great job,” she calls down. “You’re really catching me before I can drop too far.”
“We’re good together,” I correct. My heart thuds. “Or we could be.”
“Yeah,” she breathes. I know her well enough to recognize the longing in her face as she gazes down at me. Longing for me.
Hope floods my veins. “Come down, baby. I’d rather not have this conversation like this.”
She snorts. “What’s wrong with this? Apparently, hanging by my fingertips is the best time to discuss relationship statuses.”
“What?”
“I’ve had bad luck with partners lately who want to discuss this kind of thing while I’m climbing. The last guy I partnered with unclipped himself from the rope and walked away.”
My body goes cold. “He did what?”
“He wanted to punish me a little because he thought he was entitled to fuck me. Here I was, forty feet in the air, hanging on by my fingertips. It was scary as hell.”
“Who was he?” I wanted his name, his address.
“Just some guy. I’m ready to go again. You’ve got me, right?”
“Sierra, I’d never let you fall.”
She smiles. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Come down. I want to talk, and it’d be safer with both of us on the ground.”
“Logan…” she begins. The I’m about to let you down gently tone is clear, even from here.
Oh, no. That’s not going to happen. I guess we are going to have this conversation while she’s hanging. “We’re good together,” I say firmly. “Tell me you don’t have feelings for me.”
Sierra groaned. “That’s not fair. Of course I have feelings for you. You were my first love.”
“There’s still something here between us,” I insist.
“That’s not the point!”
“What’s the point then?” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“Tell me this. The poetry, the dancing, the shower, our night in the cave. Hell, even just now when you rubbed me through my pants. You keep provoking me like you want me to do something about it, but then you keep wussing out. I’m too old to be playing this game—both of us are. So tell me what you want.”
Sierra says nothing.
I swallow, trying not to let the disappointment destroy me. “Fine. Then knock it off.”
Sierra is silent for so long that I wonder if I missed her response.
“I do want you, Logan,” she says finally. “Climbing.”
Adrenaline shoots through my veins at her words. “Climb on.”