Page 131 of Healing Eleanor

She looks beautiful. Beneath the pale skin and visible bones, there’s courage radiating from her, and that alone is breathtaking. Dark circles line her eyes, and makeup tries to cover the fatigue. My heart sinks at the sight. She isn’t looking much better than yesterday.

I move through the sea of dancers toward her. Her eyes meet mine, unreadable.

“Eleanor,” I greet quietly.

She fiddles with her fingers, twisting them together nervously. “Hi,” she whispers.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she murmurs. But she isn’t. Not by a long shot.

I bend slightly, lowering my voice. “Listen. You don’t have to go out there. If you decide not to dance, Eleanor… I’ll still respect you, and I’ll still think the world of you.” I give her a rueful look. “You don’t have to do it. You really don’t.”

Her gaze scans the space around us. “Nik,” she whispers, voice cracking, “this is all I have.”

I lift her chin gently so her eyes meet mine. “But you’re not well, Elenochka.” I curse myself for calling her that.

Her eyes widen, and she steps back, my hand dropping from her face. “I’m okay,” she mutters.

I want to scream that she isn’t. That I’ll still care if she puts herself first. But I can’t force her. I give a slight dip of my chin. “Be careful out there,” I murmur and turn away, not looking back.

My chest aches already. Watching her dance, seeing her falter—if she messes up once, I know Kasper won’t hesitate to pull her out, crushing a dream she’s fought so hard for.

As I exit the wings, a flash of perfectly styled blonde hair collides with me. Brown eyes meet mine.

“Catherine?” I choke on the name. Catherine Montgomery, Eleanor’s mother, stands before me.

She surveys me from head to toe. “Yes… and who are you?”

Of course she doesn’t remember. “Nikolai Kozlov. We met at the Fall Gala.”

Recognition crosses behind her eyes. “Right… of course. Nikolai. I’m here for Eleanor Montgomery. Do you know her?”

I force myself to keep calm. “Well, I’m her coach, so of course I do.”

“Coach?” Contempt laces her tone. “Right. Where is she?”

I jerk a thumb behind me. “She’s back there.”

Her nod is curt. “Thank you.”

Her heels click toward Eleanor, and I watch as Eleanor’s eyes widen to the size of saucers.

“Mom?” her voice quivers.

It takes sheer force of will to stay rooted to the spot and not step in to protect her, because it isn’t my place. I turn back to the audience’s perspective, Kasper and Russell already seated in the front row, my heart tensing with worry and anticipation.

After a few moments, Catherine marches out of the wings and slips into the second row, directly behind Kasper, Russell, and me.

Kasper leans across Russell. “Who’s she?” he asks, voice low.

“That’s Catherine Montgomery,” I murmur back. “Eleanor’s mother.”

Kasper’s eyes widen as he glances behind him, then quickly forward again. “What’s she doing here?”

I sit a little straighter, forcing a shrug. “No idea.”

Kasper gives a short nod, while Russell’s gaze darts between us, curiosity plain on his face.