Page 152 of Healing Eleanor

Nik crosses his arms, frown deepening. “So you regret it?” His tone is steady, almost too steady.

A hot tear trails down my cheek. “You didn’t kiss me back… why wouldn’t I regret it?” My voice cracks in spite of myself.

He steps closer, his voice breaking now, too. “My mother just died, Eleanor. A month ago I watched you collapse on that stage, and then you vanished. Do you understand? This has been the worst month of my life.” His jaw tightens. “You’re not some princess, and I’m not some frog you can kiss and make everything magically fine.”

The words pierce me, but he isn’t finished.

“You lied to me,” he says, softer but no less sharp. “You made me believe you were getting better. How am I supposed to trust you?” His voice wavers, then drops to a whisper. “Yes, I’m glad you’re seeing Evelyn. Elated, even. But you can’t just walk back in here and expect everything to go back to what it was.”

My lips tremble. I thrust out my hand, desperate for escape. “Just… give me my phone, please.” I press my lips together, fighting the sob threatening to tear through me.

He closes the distance between us until I can feel the heat of his body and the crushing weight of his grief between us.

His hands cup my face, forcing my gaze to his. His voice breaks into a whisper. “You need to heal. And so do I.” He gives a bitter laugh. “And besides… you shouldn’t be here right now. You’re still one of my dancers. Bound by contract.”

I understand what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. How can I earn his trust if I can’t show him I’m trustworthy? I say nothing. I simply savor the feel of his hands on my face, as if this might be the last time.

His grip tightens a fraction, like what he’s about to say will cost him. “I’ve prayed over this. Over you. Over whatever is happening between us.” His frown deepens. “But it can’t happen. At least not right now.”

I nod, and his hands fall away.

He stares out the window for a beat, then looks back at me, reaching into his pocket, and pulls out my phone. He holds it out. “I’ll take you home,” he mumbles, shrugging into his coat.

There’s so much I wish I could say, but the words die before they reach my lips. I know I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was temporarily blinded by the need to make him feel better, acting selfishly.

It doesn’t matter how much we want each other. Nik has to navigate the loss of his mother. I have to figure out who I am, how to live without food being punishment or praise, how to reclaim myself. And, of course, the contract still ties me to this building.

The drive to my apartment is silent. Nik’s frown is permanent, and I can’t stop replaying the kiss, over and over, examining his reaction.

I keep circling back to his words. He’s been praying. For me. For us. Something stirs deep in my chest at the thought of prayer. Months of listening to him, his mother, even Lily, Gabriel, and Dillon talk about faith barely registered before, but now I feel it tug at something inside me.

I glance at Nik. I don’t know if faith is the answer. But I can’t ignore the feeling it stirs.

For Nik. For him, I will try. I’ll give up everything if it means I can have him.

29

Are You There, God?

Eleanor

“Eleanor.” Evelyn waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you hear what I asked, or did I lose you again?” Her voice is gentle.

I blink, dragging myself back to the room. The whole time I’ve been sitting on this couch, I’ve been zoning out. Ever since Irina’s funeral last Sunday, I’ve felt restless, like something is scraping at the inside of me, refusing to settle.

After Nik dropped me off the night she died, I hadn’t heard from him once. Not a call. Not even a text. It wasn’t even him who invited me to the funeral, it was Lily.

It was hosted by their church. I was nervous to go, but for Nik, I did. He and his father sat up front, people lining past with hugs and hushed condolences. I caught a few stolen glances from him, but he never came to me. I didn’t go to him either. The last time I tried to comfort him, I only made things worse. Still, I wanted to be there for him, if only with my presence. So I sat with Lily through the service and left when she was ready to leave.

Nik looked uncomfortable the entire time. Tense. Like he wanted to be anywhere else. It was obvious he and his father didn’t get along, and I couldn’t stop wondering if it had been his father who’d given him that gash on his lip. Nik once told me his father became violent after his sister’s death. The thought made my chest ache. He shouldn’t have to go through this heartache alone. But he’d made it clear that now wasn’t the right time for us. So I stayed away.

Ever since being at that church, I can’t get God out of my head. Can’t stop wondering about faith. Nik brought it up that night, and now, after sitting through the funeral service, it’s like something’s been planted in me. A restless unease I don’t understand, gnawing at me. And it’s going to drive me mad if I don’t figure it out.

I lift my gaze to Evelyn, realizing I’ve left her hanging. “I’m sorry,” I reply quietly. “What did you ask?”

She reclines in her chair, setting her notes aside, her eyes studying me with quiet patience. “How about we talk about what’s really on your mind?”

This is my fifth session with her, and so far it’s been a lot of uncovering. From family history, to root causes, and pulling apart the mess piece by piece. Necessary, but exhausting. So I’m grateful for her invitation to shift the conversation.