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“Ignore it,” Ares tells me, and I flinch. Because I have no doubt it’s Jenkins, and the idea of disappointing him is almost worse than the idea of losing Ares.
“It’s probably my director,” I admit softly. “I need to answer it.”
Ares’s grip tightens, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Does your director know you’re hurt?”
I nod. “The company doctor did my MRIs and wrote the script. We sign a contract that he can share any necessary medical information with the company. Jenkins knows everything.”
“How long, Grace?” When I don’t answer, he practically vibrates with anger. “How long has your director known you were hurting yourself, and how long do you have to rest for your foot and heal to dance without pain?”
“At least eight weeks. That’s half the cycle of a show,” I answer softly because saying it out loud is terrifying. “Four weeks practice. Three months production. One week off before we lather, rinse, and repeat. But even then, I may never dance without some pain.”
“Can you take a show off? Will your spot still be there when you come back?”
I laugh a silent laugh.
“Hypothetically... yes. Will I ever make it back to principal dancer? Probably not. I don’t think Jenkins would ever let me dance for him again, either, if I leave now.” I turn in his arms and cup his face in my hands. “And he has a lot of pull in my world. One phone call could kill any hope of ever reviving my career if I leave now.”
“You said you hated your life, baby. Maybe it’s time we switch upyourworld.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever known. It’s what makes me, me...”
“It’s your birthday... Maybe it’s time to reinvent yourself.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin to do that.” I rest my forehead against his.
“We’ll figure it out.” And it’s thewethat might actually destroy me most.
“Will you hold my hand?” I beg, trembling.
“Every step of the way.” He presses his lips to mine, and I hang on for dear life because I’m about to throw everything I’ve worked so hard for into the fire and watch it burn. Whether I’ll manage to walk through the flames has yet to be seen.
Do you believe in coincidences? Just spotted leaving the Philadelphia airport is none other than the god of war himself and a mystery brunette. It was hard to see who but don’t worry this reporter loves a good challenge.
#PuckPack #KroydonKronicles #ChallengeAccepted
ARES
Grace is practically crawling out of her skin when we get to Heathrow Airport the next morning. We spent the majority of her birthday, yesterday, lining things up to take the next three months off. Step one is going home.
“I need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing,” she whispers, once we take our seats for our six a.m. flight back to Philadelphia. “Tell me I didn’t just blow up my career.”
“Sixteen weeks, baby. Sixteen weeks to rest and rehab and come back bigger and badder than before.”
Her body shakes with quiet laughter, and I wish I could bottle the sound.
My girl cried enough yesterday to last a lifetime, and I wanted to kill that fucking director of hers for the way he made it worse. He might as well have told her if she took the time off, she’d never come back to his company as a principal dancer. But Grace still agreed this was what she needed.
“Ballerina, Ares.” She pulls me out of my raging thoughts. “Not hockey player. Bigger isn’t better.”
“You sure about not telling anyone you’re coming home?” I press her, and she lifts her head and smiles a nervous little smile.
“Not even a little bit.” She closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. “This is going to be such a clusterfuck.”
“With your overinvolved family and friends...What? You think they’re all going to have an opinion?”
She smacks my chest and laughs a little louder this time, then happily accepts the blanket the flight attendant offers and lifts the arm rest between us. “Shut up, god of war. They’re your family and friends now too.”
“They are. But the difference is I don’t give a shit what any of them think of me.” I’ve never been the guy who cares what other people think. But that’s not my girl. She cares about everything and everyone. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is pure as fucking snow. That’s why everyone always wants to protect Grace.
