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Eli wasn’t pining. That much he knew. He had grieved for his loss and moved on as best he could.
But he still couldn’t escape the limbo of what if. Would he ever, or was this just where he lived now? He guessed yes, since it had been his home now for over three years.
He slapped a palm against the wet tile as the water coupled with his own firm grip burned away his desire.
His instinct—a thing he used to trust implicitly—had cost Tess and Fury their lives. After knowing Beth for less than twenty-four hours, it had almost cost her her life too.
He still wanted her.
Stroke one.
He could still taste her lips on his.
Stroke two.
And like he did with his past, with Beth he would always wonder what if.
Three.
But that was as far as this could go.
He worked himself until he found release.
But the ache in his chest held on, relief nowhere in sight.
Chapter 9
Beth lifted her left leg, the added weight of the walking boot making it hard to maintain her center of gravity. But she succeeded—somehow without toppling backward—in gently setting her foot onto the ballet barre.
She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed.
“I can feel you watching me, you know,” she spoke aloud to what was supposed to be an empty carport.
A soft breeze moved through the open space, and Beth breathed in the scent of wild grass and lilac from the fields surrounding her sister’s serenely remote home.
“I wasn’t trying to hide,” Delaney admitted. “Is it wrong for me to want to check out my husband’s handiwork…and maybe admire my baby sister’s talent?”
Beth lowered into a right plié, attempting to stretch muscles she hadn’t used in almost two months. She winced, thankful her sister couldn’t see her face. “This only further confirms that this little visit you sprang on me was premeditated. I’m guessing Sam didn’t randomly wake up one day and decide the carport was missing a ballet barre.” She straightened, lifted her right arm into fourth position, and leaned forward over her elevated leg.
She felt her sister move closer.
“Maybe,” Delaney admitted. “But look. You’re working. You’re dancing…sort of.”
Beth reached as far as she could, trying to wrap her palm around the bottom of the boot, but her fingers barely scratched the top of it. She groaned. “It’s not enough.”
She straightened once more and slowly spun to face her sister, her left leg following along with the movement as if it were the hand of a clock. Then she gingerly lowered it back to the ground.
Delaney’s hand was pressed against her chest. “You’re really good, Bethy.”
Beth narrowed her eyes. “At stretching?”
“No.” Delaney shook her head. “I mean, yes. At all of it. You just have this grace, you know? It’s beautiful to watch, and I’m just sorry that—”
“Don’t say it, Lanes.” Beth leaned against the barre, gripping it tight beside each of her hips. “Don’t tell me how sorry you are that this part of my life is over. I know you’ve been biting your tongue for the past two weeks, but if you wouldn’t mind doing so indefinitely, I’d really appreciate it.”
Her sister moved a few paces closer, close enough to reach out and tuck a lock of Beth’s hair behind her ear.
“Have you talked to the new orthopedic therapist yet?” Delaney asked.
