Chapter 18

Auralie

I lean my head against the passenger window of Logan’s truck and watch the scenery roll by with a satisfied smile on my face. I’m exhausted as we’ve been driving around Grand Teton National Park all day, taking in magnificent lakes, crystal clear streams, snowcapped mountains, and meadows filled with wildflowers.

I had mentioned that day on the river with Logan that I wished I’d had time to see Yellowstone while I was here. We had a free day today—although I suspect Logan’s day wasn’t really free and he’d cancelled his trips for the day to spend it with me—and he told me he was going to take me to see “some things”. This ultimately did not mean Yellowstone, which was at first disappointing to me because hello—Old Faithful—but now, as the day is nearing its end, I’m quite pleased with everything I’ve experienced today.

It started with Logan waking me up with take-out breakfast from a wonderful place he called “The Bunnery”. He picked up some gooey chocolate croissants, bagels, and bear claws, which could not possibly all be eaten by both of us, and carried them into the tiny trailer where I was sleeping hard. The sounds of him banging around in the kitchen not five feet from where I was sleeping woke me up, and I stared at him with bleary eyes as he made coffee.

So sweet, the way he’d slipped out early while I slept and went into town to get breakfast. Just as sweet when he told me we were spending the day sightseeing. All of this was made infinitely sweeter by the fact he did it less than twelve hours after me admitting to being a fraud, a liar, and a cheat to him. All terrible qualities that he’s apparently chosen to overlook.

We did not make it up north to Yellowstone, but rather took some time exploring the Bridger-Teton National Forest, which is 3.4 million acres that sits in between Jackson and Yellowstone. And while I can’t speak for the grandeur of Yellowstone, and truly, the only thing I know about Yellowstone is that it boasts the fame of Old Faithful, I truly can’t imagine more beauty than what I saw today.

Logan and I took a four-mile hike around String Lake, which is shallow, and the water so pure from glacial runoff that the water is a crystal blue. The hike brought us out to a clearing where we got a magnificent view of Cathedral Group, which is made up of Teewinot Mountain, Grand Teton, and Mt. Owen, said mountains with deep green trees at the base, and gray, craggy rocks thousands and thousands of feet up with snow still glistening at the peaks even though we were in late summer.

My favorite place by far was Oxbow Bend, with the Snake River spread lazy and curving with Mount Moran rising up behind the smooth waters. The sun was perfectly hanging with not a cloud in the sky, and Mount Moran’s mirror image was reflected on the river. I couldn’t even fathom the beauty of it, my mind almost refusing to believe that something so perfect could exist. I think Logan said something to the effect that it was one of the most photographed places in Wyoming, but then my attention got distracted by a family of otters playing along the riverbank and I was laughing at their antics.

I only became aware of my surroundings when I heard Logan laughing along with me, and I turned to face him in wonder. Granted, I haven’t known the man all that long and yes, we clearly have a deep connection, but in that moment, I realized there was so much I didn’t know because his genuine laugh was a surprise to me. While I’ve seen him smile and chuckle and even look amused, I had not heard him genuinely laugh until that moment. It amazed me as much as it made me sad that I’m guessing said emotion is a rarity with him.

And now as we make our way back toward Jackson, exhaustion starts to take over because despite how magnificent today was seeing all the grandeur of this beautiful state, there was almost no acknowledgment between the two of us of how fucked-up our situation was.

No discussion about my sordid past as a grifter, or that I came into Logan’s life on a pure lie, or that I was still intent on perpetuating a fraud. No discussion about the amazing sex we had the first time, and then the time after, and the time after that. Most certainly, we didn’t discuss what happened in the wee morning hours when Logan was clearly having a nightmare, and I couldn’t get him to wake up at first. He mumbled in his sleep, but I heard pain-filled words such as “no” and “please help her,” and he was thrashing slightly.

Finally, with some rough shaking and repeatedly calling out to him, he came out of it.

And then he did something that I’m not sure if it repulsed me or turned me on. He came out of a nightmare that was clearly causing him distress with a hard-as-steel erection, and, without a lick of foreplay or even a kiss from him, he poured lube on his dick and thrust it into me so hard, tears stung my eyes.

Granted, the sting only lasted a second, and then wow… the way Logan fucked me after was beyond words could even describe, but it was better than all the other times we’d been together. I think it was better—to me at least—because Logan needed me in a way that I’ve never been needed before. I could tell there was something I was giving him, and something he required and hadn’t succeeded in attaining before, and that did nothing more than cement the bond that was already pretty mystically strong to begin with.

He didn’t explain his actions. After he came inside me, he held me tight and we fell back asleep.

“One more thing I want to show you,” Logan says and I lift my head from the window to look at him. He slows his truck and takes a right turn down a gravel and dirt road that’s narrow and lined to the edge with thick chokeberry and hawthorn bushes. “This is Moose-Wilson Road and will bring us out near Teton Village.”

“Not well traveled, is it?” I ask with interest as I sense we are headed into some unchartered territory given the rough nature of the road and the wilderness encroaching right up to it.

“Actually, it is,” Logan says to the contrary and points out his driver’s side window. “This road is about eight miles long, but it’s one of the best places to see moose in this area. There are wetlands on this side of the road… a lot of moose around in there.”

“But I can’t see anything,” I say as I turn in my seat to get a better look, but the thick vegetation only opens up in patchy areas to provide brief glances of wet, marshy-looking land beyond.

“I’ll drive slow. If you see something, I’ll stop, but there are a few open places with some small ponds where we can usually see something.”

We’re silent as the truck bumps along. My eyes search for the elusive moose out of Logan’s window. My eyes keep straying from the scenery beyond him to his face, which is in profile to me. He wasn’t wrong… the road is actually quite busy as we pass several other vehicles, all driving slow with heads practically hanging out the window as they look for wildlife.

Logan’s face is just as beautiful in profile as he is full on. I can better appreciate the lines that make him so masculine as I take in the almost cocky natural arch to his eyebrow and strong jawline that sits above corded neck muscle made strong by his job. His cheekbones sit high with a slight hollowing underneath, but the angles are sharp so he doesn’t look pretty but handsome.

Even last night, with the moonlight filtering into the gloom of the trailer, when Logan was fucking me in almost a furious attempt to banish his nightmare, his face was harsh but beautiful at the same time. Such an enigma.

So much mystery around him.

“What were you dreaming about last night?” I blurt out suddenly, and Logan’s head snaps my way in surprise. His eyes are dark but inscrutable. “You were really distressed.”

“I don’t remember,” he says so quickly but without any emotion. I instantly know he’s lying. His face turns back to look out the windshield.

I’m not sure what compels me to fight him on this, but I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that I opened up to him about something that was terrible and embarrassing. I almost expect the same back from him, I guess. “I think you do.”

That strong, hard jaw locks, and it causes a muscle right at the hinge to thump. I swear I almost hear his teeth grind, not in an effort to prevent himself from divulging to me, but because my question irritates him. He remains stubbornly silent.

“Logan,” I say carefully, all thoughts of moose sightings forgotten. “You can tell me anything. I’ve told you the worst about me, and it didn’t send you running. You need to trust the same about me.”

He doesn’t respond, eyes remaining locked on the road in front of him and knuckles turning slightly white.

So I push, trying to be gently reassuring that I’m here for him. “I know I felt so much better once I told you what was going on with me. I bet you’d also—”

“Nothing will make me feel better about my past,” Logan snaps at me, his head turning just enough to pin me with a hard look before turning back. Then, after he takes in a breath, he lets it out with a sigh, his voice losing a bit of the frost. “Look… I left my former life behind, and I don’t think about it. It’s done, and it doesn’t define me anymore.”

Oh, but it does, Logan. Surely you can see that because it’s as clear as day to me.

Yet, I hold those thoughts. Logan doesn’t want or need me to tell him that whatever has happened to him in the past is directly responsible for the fact that he’s emotionally closed off right this moment, or that he’s clearly not left it behind because it plagues him at night in the form of nightmares. I suspect this man has tried very hard to push the bad down into a place that is not easily accessible, preferring to ignore rather than address.

This bugs me to a certain degree because clearly we’ve shown trust in each other on more than one occasion. Neither one of us doubted the other that we could have unprotected sex based on just our assertions to each other that we were clean and I was on the Pill. Most importantly, I trusted him enough to admit I was in the process of pulling off a very serious crime, and yet he gives me nothing in return.

Except orgasms but those alone cannot sustain the bond we formed. In fact, him refusing to open up after I have will fracture that bond.

However, I also don’t need answers from him right this moment. I asked because I was curious, and I offered to take on his burdens because I want to help him. But those are not things I need to have for myself but rather want to give to him. If he’s not ready for that, I can afford patience. Granted… things are still going to move forward to sell my “virginity” as far as I’m concerned, but I’m hopeful that perhaps once that’s done, Logan and I can continue to see where this goes.

There’s no rule I need to go back to New York. I can go to college anywhere, really.

I know it’s silly to look that far in advance, but even though this man is irritated with me and his lips are sealed firmly shut against my curiosities, I’m still very much aware that we have something that, despite being new, is deep-rooted and abiding. So I can wait and hope that one day Logan will open up to me the way I have with him.

It’s absolutely something I can put off.

But there is one thing we do need to talk about, and I can’t let him put me off anymore. Anytime I’ve brought it up today, he’s distracted me by pointing out something interesting in the landscape or sneaking a kiss or changing the subject.

Seeing as how it’s early evening and we’ll be back to Jackson soon, we do indeed have to talk about this.

“I think it might be best if you don’t go to The Silo tonight,” I say hesitantly.

While I note that Logan’s knuckles go white again against the steering wheel, his voice is relatively calm but no doubt set in stone when he answers, “I’m going with you.”

“You do realize—”

“That you’re probably going to have to do something that will drive me fucking nuts and make me possibly angrier than I can remember being in recent memory?” he finishes my thought.

Because yes… there was a text from Magnus this morning that said he’d talked to Bridger, confirmed The Silo would be open for business tonight, and that he expected me to be there.

I was going back on display tonight. No matter how much I hated it or Logan hated it, another man was going to touch me tonight. The thought was utterly repulsive to me because while I can usually do an adequate job of slipping into an acting role to pull off the con, the mere fact that I’ve developed a personal relationship with someone stuck deep within this world I’ve infiltrated is making it hard for me. I can’t even begin to imagine what Logan’s feeling, knowing that while I may say I don’t have a choice to walk in that round building tonight, I actually could refuse to do it. I could choose to put Logan’s mind at ease and not let another man touch me, but I will not choose that. I can’t put my dad at risk, and so perhaps… this is the end of us?

“I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly, turning back in my seat to face forward and looking down at my hands clutched in my lap. I have no desire to look for moose anymore. “I’m not sure if this helps, but I’m going to hate every second I’m in there tonight, but I have to do this.”

Logan’s hand reaches over and takes mine. “I know. I don’t blame you for doing this. I get why you’re doing it. You and I can both hate it though.”

“So maybe you should stay away—” I offer again.

“Bridger,” Logan says, as if that one word solves all my problems.

“Bridger?” I ask in confusion.

Logan turns to look at me. I swear I might even see a little guilt in his eyes, and this confuses me even more. But before I can even analyze what I might have seen, his mouth flattens into grim determination and he says, “Bridger will handle… be with you tonight.”

“And I’m guessing there’s not going to be another fire code reprieve, right?”

He shakes his head and his voice is strained when he says, “No. Club is staying open.”

“So tonight, Bridger,” I say with a shaky voice, not in the least mollified that Logan trusts Bridger. I don’t know this man, and he’s still a stranger to me. “But tomorrow night…”

I let that hang heavy on the air, wishing that Logan would fill in the rest of that sentence.

Tomorrow night… we run.

Tomorrow night… you do what you have to do and I’ll live with it.

Tomorrow night… Magnus will drop dead of a sudden heart attack and you’ll be free.

Tomorrow night… I won’t come to the Silo and watch you work your con.

He says nothing though, and instead picks up his phone resting on the seat beside him. As he drives slowly down the gravel road, moose and beautiful scenery forgotten by both of us, he taps the screen a few times with his thumb and peers at it. When he doesn’t see what he clearly wants to see, he mutters a curse under his breath and throws the phone back down.

I have no clue what type of message he’s waiting to receive, or if it will make him feel better when he gets it, but right now, I can feel the tension vibrating off him in pulsing waves. I feel terrible as I know this is hard on him. It’s just as hard on me.

The difference, I’m afraid, is that I intend to push past this and hopefully leave the memories of this far behind. I’m getting the feeling though that Logan isn’t going to let this go, despite the fact he seems to have left a big chunk of his past in the rearview mirror without looking back at it again.