the company that we were worried you’d start to feel neglected. We thought you were old enough to spend a weekend at Popo’s house without us. We thought it might feel like an adventure. But you cried from the moment we put our shoes on and stepped out the door, and you didn’t stop for hours. I think that was frustrating for Popo—not being able to calm you down. Having to admit defeat.
We picked you up the next morning and brought you to work with us. And that’s when I realized you weren’t upset about being away from your dad and me—you were upset that you were missing rehearsals. You spent the whole day in the skyrise, watching the flyers and the aerialists, and you had this look on your face that I’ll never forget. It was like you were glowing.
I knew then how much you loved the circus. I’ve always known. And I’m not trying to dim your glow, Harley. In my own way, I’m trying to protect it.
I know you don’t always trust me. And I know I don’t always do the right thing. But to me, you’re still that seven-year-old girl in the skyrise. A little light so desperate to shine.
But I know you better than you think I do. You burn fast and bright, and then you burn out.
And the last thing I want is for you to burn out. Not again.
I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I hope you’d call me if you weren’t.
Love, Mom
Not again.
Why can’t anyone see this is nothing like November?
I’m happy. I’m trying to be happy.
Maybe Chloe is only half right about me ignoring the people I care about when I get busy. Maybe I just don’t want to keep in touch with people who don’t understand what I’m trying to do.
Because I’m trying. Here, at Maison du Mystère.
If they don’t want to understand that, then maybe it’s not that I’m burning out—maybe I’m burning fast and bright and away.
Maybe the dark space they think is me is the dark space I left behind.
Someday I’ll prove it to them. I’ll show them they’re wrong about what this is—that the circus isn’t a phase I’m going to tire of eventually. That I’m not here because I can’t control my excitement.
I’m not in any danger.
And if Mom would only listen, she’d understand that the more she pushes—the more everyone pushes—the more it makes me certain that I can never go home again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’m more nervous than I want to be, and it feels ridiculous. I’ve been training in the same room as Vas for weeks. What makes tonight any different?
I wonder if it’s because of what Jin said earlier—about Vas not loving anyone but his violin. And I’m not silly enough to think Vas loves me, but sometimes he looks at me when he’s between songs, and it feels… like there might be something there other than indifference.
The problem is that I can’t tell if the something is good or bad. He could be starting to like me, or he could equally loathe me. Maybe he shows up every night because he wants to, or maybe it’s because he thinks I’m a sad stray puppy he’s throwing a bone to but also secretly wishes would get picked up by animal control so it could be someone else’s problem.
Tonight, I’ll pay more attention. I’ll look for signs—even the ones he thinks he’s good at hiding. Because the last thing I want is to assume we’re friends only to get rejected. I’m barely holding my heart together as it is.
But when I see the twinkling lights scaling down the big top and step through the parted curtains, I hear nothing but my padded footsteps on the carpet, and my breathing echoing into the open chamber.
Vas isn’t here.
He might be late, or sick, or tired, but my mind immediately thinks the worst.
I worry he’s not here because he finally got tired of me.
I spend the next hour doing floor exercises and core work, trying not to think about Vas’s reason for not being here, or how bummed I am that I’m not on the trapeze, or how maybe Vas found out everyone knew about our rehearsals and now he’s embarrassed people might assume we’re friends. Or hooking up, as Vivien put it.
It’s the last thought that mortifies me.
On my way back to the trailer, I see him walking toward me with a heaviness creased between his brows.
“Hey,” he says carefully, his green eyes darkened to