Wish Upon A Sunset

Fleeing The Studio

Emma

Present Day...

"Emma."

Logan's quiet voice interrupted my whirlwind of thoughts. My mouth snapped shut as I realized I'd been staring at him in stunned silence for who knows how long. A sharp pang of betrayal burned in my gut, quickly igniting anger - at myself for not piecing it together sooner, and at Logan for not telling me the truth.

Although a rational part of me understood why he hadn't revealed his real identity, shame and self-reproach put up a fierce battle to overshadow that logic. He had been there, witnessing my interrogation, my visceral reaction to Zack's presence. And now, flashes of memory resurfaced - he testified at my trial, recounting the case details for the prosecution.

Well, not exactly against me, I had to admit. He stated the facts as he knew them, doing his job. Even so, being called by the prosecutor's side didn't help his case right now.

Once I realized why I didn't recognize him at first, foolishness washed over me. His once meticulously slicked-back hair now hung in disheveled waves, giving him an almost biker-esque appearance, and the beard obscuring half his scar wasn't there six years ago. Everything from that time blurred together in my distraught state - only in the past few weeks had those memories started resurfacing with vivid clarity, triggered by my surroundings.

Logan's confession hit me like a sucker punch. I'd worked so hard to regain my inner strength, to heal from the past abuse, and finally feel hopeful about my future. Learning self-defense was supposed to help me hold my head high when I left my apartment each day. But now... now, that steady progress felt insignificant, the joy diminished by his admission.

I couldn't be here right now. The room felt suffocating, and I needed space to process this bombshell, to reconcile everything he'd told me with what I remembered.

"I can't be here right now, Logan." My voice was strained as I stood. "I need some time to myself. I don't know how to feel about this."

Moving swiftly toward the door, I grabbed my sweater and purse, aware of Logan following close behind.

"Emma, wait."

His voice carried a pleading sadness, but I couldn't turn around, couldn't meet his gaze.

"I can't, Logan. I'm sorry." The words tumbled out in a breathless rush as I tightened my grip on the doorknob.

"Emma-" He tried again, but it was too late. I was already out the door, racing toward my car, desperate for the solitude I needed to sort through this emotional turmoil.

In the parking lot, the crisp evening air stung my eyes as I fumbled for my keys. My hands shook, making it near impossible to unlock the door.

Finally climbing inside, I paused for a long, shuddering breath, trying to blink back the tears burning my eyes.

Why am I so upset? A small voice in my head chided me for overreacting. Logan was still the same caring, protective man I'd come to know over these past few days. His identity as a detective shouldn't change that. And yet, it did-the walls that I'd dismantled seemed to reconstruct around my heart.

Gripping the steering wheel, I realized a big part of me felt betrayed by his deception, no matter how well-intentioned. I thought we had been building a bond of trust and understanding between us. How could he have kept such a significant part of himself hidden? But now I realized there was so much about each other that we didn't know, and I reminded myself that we barely knew each other.

Another part of me, the logical side muffled by a surge of emotion, recognized why he did it. Of course, he wouldn't want to introduce himself as a detective, not after everything I'd been through. He wanted a chance for me to see him as just Logan first, not the embodiment of the system that failed me all those years ago.

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. I didn't know where I was going, just that I needed distance, needed space to process this knot of conflicting feelings bunched tightly in my chest. But this setback stung deeply, violating that fragile trust we'd forged.

As I tangled one hand in the fabric of my sweater, Logan's final plaintive call rang in my ears. "Emma..."

Part of me ached at the idea of pushing him away, knowing he was only trying to protect me in his own way. But the rest of me couldn't see past the veil of hurt and confusion clouding my vision right now.

I'd have to face him eventually, have to sort through this emotional upheaval. But not tonight. Tonight, I just needed to breathe, to grieve this loss of trust and figure out a way to rebuild it - or let it go.