Page 78 of Until You

“I’m sorry. That had to have been—”

“Brutal? Soul-shattering? Take your pick.” Another disbelieving laugh. “I had failed. In my marriage. To my girls. I was terrified I had ruined them. It took me a while to realize that I can’t be responsible for other people’s actions. I can only work on me. I can only be the best at that.”

“You’re way more mature than I am.” I snort. “I’d be immature and lay that blame at her feet like there is no tomorrow.”

Just like my parents always blamed their misfortunes on me. Their drinking problems. Their inability to hold down jobs. Their hatred of me.

It’s no wonder I took the first bus out of there with my pointe shoes in hand and never looked back. After struggling for a year, I thought finding Kaleo was a godsend. A person who looked at me and loved instead of looking at me and hating or blaming.

He stood backstage after one of my performances and refused to leave until I spoke to him. His good looks and charm won me over immediately. His personality and dedication cemented his hold on my heart in the following months. I’d never been loved the way he loved me. Adored and cherished. The exact opposite of my parents . . . or so I thought.

I have a right to be bitter, to lay the blame at Kaleo’s feet, for everything that happened—just like Crew does with Brittney.

And yet he opts for the higher road.

“More mature?” Crew repeats and snorts. “Hardly, Tenny. I definitely did blame Brittney. I still do. But I’ve also learned that it’s not my fault she did what she did just as it’s not your fault he did what he did, whatever that is, to you.”

“I know,” I murmur.

“But do you?”

Crew’s question sits with me long after our walk, our dinner with the girls, and as I burn the midnight oil editing a book about a High Fae Prince and his chosen princess who fights her attraction to him for a large portion of the book.

Do I know that what Kaleo did wasn’t my fault?

Do I understand that while I loved him—maybe parts of me still do—that I was being controlled within an inch of my life so he could save his own image and forge his own protection?

Do I get that this whole process—creating a new life for myself and fearing his wrath—has its own emotional trauma that has resulted in me becoming introverted? Has made me keep my guard up and fear living because I’m afraid that those I become close to might get hurt in the shock waves if he were to find me?

But do you?

Such a good question.

And one I think I’m still trying to answer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Crew

She tried to hide in the back row today.

She thought I didn’t notice. Hell, she thought no one would. But it’s pretty hard not to notice how she conveniently took off before the first shot was taken when I can’t take my eyes off the woman.

Or get her out of my thoughts.

Or stop imagining the things I want to do to her. With her.

But she did.

And now I can’t stop myself from wondering why.

Even more so after our discussion tonight.

The light has been on in her room for some time. Normally she comes out for something to drink or those sour gummy things she likes to eat while working and that I have made sure we have a stockpile of.

But she was quiet tonight. On the walk home. At dinner. As she excused herself to finish up some work.

She was quiet and withdrawn when she had never been before.