Page 9 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

I replay the video that has gone viral on social media since last night.

A very familiar circus made a performance out of kicking out three Alpha clowns.

My circus.

Sylvia leans over my shoulder, watching it with me. She’s been smug all morning. “You ready to go back to those boys yet?” she asks before going back to wipe off the frother.

“He’ll know to look for me there now that one threat is gone.” The excuse sounds weak even to my ears.

I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “Sure, but you’ll have all of those strong men to protect you. That Hispanic one in the hat, that’s your Beta?”

I pinch the screen, zooming in on Matteo. “Yeah, that’s Matteo,” I say softly, a pang in my chest at the sight of him. He’s more handsome than I remember, but there are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there before.

Quinton looks thin, his eyes half-lidded. There is no doubt that his Rot is back in full force, and that is my fault .

Jude looks stiff. Well, stiffer than usual. The massive Alpha is difficult to read, but doesn’t this performance show that he wants me back? It wasn’t an unplanned event. An effort was made to ensure this was a spectacle.

Dario is his usual beaming self, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s Dexter that surprises me the most. He looks nearly feral in his anger at the clowns.

Travis, Chet, and Elvis.

Putting a name and face to the evil makes it a little easier to deal with. No longer are they their nightmare-inducing masks. They’re just men.

Men who have been humiliated.

I worry a little about them retaliating against me, trying to find me, but with these accusations out there, I doubt they’ll be brave enough.

I ache to return to the troupe. Honestly, I do. I even regret leaving them and not trusting that they could protect me.

Now that the clowns are gone, what is stopping me from meeting them at the next stop on their tour? Would Rich expect that of me?

“Excuse me, ma’am?” A smooth voice says from the window. I plaster myself to the wall before sinking to the floor, praying I’m not visible and have time to hide.

Sylvia spins around, her customer service smile stretched across her face. “Yes? What can I get ya today?”

We’re close to packing up and leaving, but she’ll never turn a customer away.

Even though this one time, she really should.

Because I know that voice.

It haunts my nightmares—the soundtrack to my torment .

“I was wondering if you’ve seen this woman,” Tripp says, no doubt holding up a picture of me on his phone.

“Can I look at that a little closer?” Sylvia asks, reaching for his phone.

My heart is pounding out of my chest as I watch from the corner of my eye, hiding underneath the counter.

He places it in her small hand, and she pulls it close to her face, squinting like she’s not able to see well. “Mmm, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, this is my Omega, Alex, and she’s missing.”

I want to scream. I’m not his Omega. I never have been and I never will be.

“We have reason to believe she’s in danger, and we got a report that she was sighted here, at your cart.”

Sylvia clicks her tongue. “I serve a lot of customers a day, sweetie. I’m sorry that I don’t remember her.”

“They said she works here.” I can hear the frustration in his voice, and it makes me flinch.

I recognize that tone, and I know where this is going next.

He’ll grab Sylvia by the apron and haul her closer, nearly spitting in her face as he barks her into submission.

It happened to me enough times that I am intimately in tune with every slight twitch, every curl of his lip that heralds his moods.

I’m about to stand up and turn myself over to protect her, this woman who has done so much for me, but it seems, this one time, Tripp can keep himself together.

“Oh, hm? I guess that kind of looks like Julie,” she says, pulling the phone closer.

“But Julie has blue hair. She also quit a few days ago.” She hands his phone back to him with a sad sigh.

“Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help. For what it’s worth, Julie didn’t seem like she was in danger. She was happy.”

I hear a huff and close my eyes tightly, my meadow calling my name. But I can’t escape this time. I need to be present for this. I’ll never forgive myself if he hurts Sylvia, and I didn’t stop it because I was hiding in my mind.

No, I have to keep my wits about me. I need to know when he’s gone.

“Do you happen to have a forwarding address or anything?” My tormentor says tightly. “I’d greatly appreciate any information you have so I can recover my Omega.”

Recover. Like I’m a wallet he lost, or a car that was stolen. Not like I’ve fled him for fear of my life.

But acknowledging that would require him to admit he had done something wrong, and he would never do that.

“Sure, I can give you her phone number, if that helps. Oh, also, I know! She said she was moving to Bakersville.”

Bakersville is about a ten hour drive from here. She’s giving me time to get out of here before they realize it’s a dead end and come back here to hunt me down again.

Because they will.

Someone called the hotline and told them I was here, working at this cart. I’m not safe here anymore.

My heart aches at having to leave Sylvia. I’ve grown so used to her presence, her care. Most importantly, her friendship. I haven’t had a friend in a long time, and I don’t want to give her up.

Eventually, after Sylvia rattles off a fake phone number, I hear Tripp walk away and a car start up. Sylvia is leaning across the counter on her elbows. After a few moments, she pulls the shade down, closing the food truck.

“Coast is clear, Lexi,” she says softly. “But I think you know what this means.” I whimper a little at her words, not wanting to admit the truth. “It’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t want to leave,” I whine, wrapping my arms around my knees. “I have nowhere to go.”

Slowly, she lowers herself to the ground in front of me and grabs my hands. “Now, you know that’s not true. You do have somewhere to go. It’s time to go back to the circus.”

“I’m scared,” I admit. “What if they don’t want me back?”

“Would those boys have gone through all of those dramatics if they didn’t want you back? They wanted you to know you were safe to return. Otherwise, they would’ve quietly kicked those Alphas out and moved on with their lives.”

I switch tactics. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She sighs heavily, closing her eyes. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, not until it was finalized, but I’m selling the truck, Lexi.”

“What? But you love this truck. It’s your dream.”

“It was. But I’m ready to retire. I’ve had a long, hard life, and I want to enjoy the rest of it.”

She’s not that old, but from what I know of her story, she’s lost two partners. That would age anyone. I don’t begrudge her wanting to slow down and take it easy after such a hard life.

“Is that what that mystery appointment was about?”

She nods sadly. “Yeah, I was meeting with a potential buyer. I was going to negotiate for you to stay on, if you needed it, but you can’t anymore. You can’t stay here, Lexi.”

“I know.” Those two words take a lot out of me to admit. It’s a weight off my chest, but bile still rises in my throat at the danger I know I’m going to bring to their doorstep.

“You’re scared. You feel guilty for leaving.

And your life certainly isn’t fixed because one threat is eliminated.

I know that. But it’s time for you to face the carnival music.

” She chuckles at the joke. “Let’s make a plan to get you where you belong.

You’re sick, you’re unsafe, and more than all of that, you’re sad.

You think you’re hiding it, but you miss them. ”

Of course, I miss them.

Dario’s hidden depths. Quinton’s goofy company. Matteo’s soothing sweetness. Jude’s strength and protection.

I even miss Dexter’s grumbling and general moodiness.

But if I go back to them, I’m putting them in danger. I know that. It’s selfish.

Like she can read my mind, Sylvia pats the back of my hand before standing up. “It’s time to be a little selfish, Lexi. Let’s go get you packed up.”

I stare at the two beat-up suitcases that Sylvia is loading into her equally run-down car. The ones I had with me when I knocked on the door of Jude’s trailer.

“You don’t have to drive me,” I say again, feeling bad for putting her out like this. The spot the circus is at is eight hours from here, in the opposite direction from where she sent Tripp.

“How else are you going to get there? I’m not letting you take a bus and risk getting recognized by someone.”

I blow my newly trimmed bangs out of my eyes. I still don’t love having them, but they make me harder to recognize, just like the black dye job does. “But you’ll be driving for sixteen hours round trip. You’ll not be able to open the cart up tomorrow. ”

She rolls her eyes. “So I’ll lose a day in the cart. At least I’ll get to see for myself if those boys deserve you. Now, get in the car.”

The drive is relatively uneventful. We got moving early enough on a weekday that we don’t hit much traffic, and we only stop twice. Once to refill gas, once to grab coffee and eat.

When we pull up to the edge of the fairgrounds, where that familiar striped tent looms ahead of me, my stomach clenches.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Sylvia,” I say quietly.

“You can, and you will.” She eases her car down the flattened grass pathway that leads toward the trailers. Acid rises in my throat, my skin grows hot, and I feel like I’m about to explode.

“Stop the car,” I wheeze, clutching at the door handle. “Please, I need to get out.”

She slows to a stop, and I throw open the door, tumbling out of the car and onto my hands and knees, hurling into the grass. Nerves and FOS have combined to leave my elbows shaking, my fingers digging into the dirt.

“Can I help you?”

The words immediately soothe the ache in my stomach. I can’t see him, but I can smell the salty, sweet taffy scent of Jude Oliver. The meager suppressants in my system can’t hide that.

A needy, pained whine escapes me, and I hear heavy footfalls rush around the car. Maybe Sylvia pointed him toward me, maybe he was drawn to me the way I am to him, but it doesn’t matter one bit when I’m gently lifted by his massive hands and clutched to his expansive chest.

Immediately, tears track down my face, and I bury myself into his neck .

“I’m sorry,” I whimper, unable to stop myself from inhaling his scent deeply. “I’m so, so sorry, Jude.”

“It’s okay, Omega,” he says softly, petting my hair. “Welcome home.”