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“Trevor, she doesn’t. She’s a successful dancer in New York. This place will only drag her down. It’s too complicated. She needs to go back.”
“You make it sound like you
have nothing to offer. She could be happy here.”
“She’ll be happier doing what she was born to do.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Am I? Come on.” I get up from the desk and walk past him, and he follows me to the barn where we enter through the side door, so as not to alert her that we’re watching. Harper leaps across the ring just as we get the door shut and then begins turning in circles covering the length of the elevated floor, executing each spin with precision. The song is fucking depressing, the lyrics hard to listen to. And I know they’re for me. I feel every single word. I want so much to believe her, to let her back in, but she’s made it hard to trust her. The longer she stays, the harder it’s becoming to love her at arm’s length. She’s torturing us both, and I’m struggling to do right by her.
“Jesus,” Trevor says, amazed by mere seconds of her dancing. And then I’m pulled in, rapt as she throws herself into it, every single one of her limbs poised perfectly, her physique controlled. But it’s her face that has me on high alert.
She’s crying.
Guilt consumes me as Trevor looks on awestruck by her raw talent.
“She’s so good.”
“Yeah,” I say, hearing the pride in my voice. “She’s incredible.”
I look over to Trevor. “So, tell me honestly, little brother, would you be the guy to take that ballerina and put her back in the box?”
Trevor doesn’t miss a beat. “She wants to be here, with you.”
“And I don’t want her to hate me for it.”
“I might not be as hardheaded as you, but if you can watch this without an ounce of feeling, maybe I’m looking up to the wrong guy.” He glances over at Harper and shakes his head. “This is fucking sad. I’ll be inside.”
“See? Definition of complicated. Maybe don’t be so anxious to grow up.”
He rolls his eyes, but leaves me there, just as Harper stops moving and starts sobbing into her hands.
In seconds, I’m pulling her into my arms.
Harper
Lance surrounds me in his embrace as I crumble in the middle of his ring. “He screwed everything up. For us, for you, and I can’t stay mad at him. I want to be so mad at him, Lance. And I am, I’m furious, but I love him more than his mistakes, and now he’s just gone. He’s not my dad anymore; he’s a shell. A fucking shell. And I can’t stand watching it. Everyone he loves has abandoned him. And for good reason, but his own family? They’re getting a divorce. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but…God,” I pull away from him, and he lets me go. I look up to him, emotions running rampant. “I know you hate him. You couldn’t care less about Ryan Elliot.”
Cloudy eyes peer through me. “I hate what he did, but I knew him before, and I saw how he changed. I genuinely liked him as a coach. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
“Are you?” I glare over at him and see the honesty he’s giving me. “I can see you are. I didn’t mean that.”
“Tell me what to do,” he says, and it’s apparent, my pain is his.
“Let me back in.” It falls so easily from my lips. I close the space and lift on my toes, kissing him. “Touch me, Lance,” I beg. He goes solid, tensing beneath my fingers. “Kiss me back,” I press my lips to his and get nothing. “I need you.”
He shakes his head and grabs my hands, pushing me away gently.
“So, you regret New York?”
“Partly.”
“Leave.”
“What?”
“Leave. I’m not buying what you’re selling. I don’t believe you. Mere weeks ago, you wanted this, wanted me. Whatever has gotten into you, isn’t the truth. You’re believing the lies you’re telling yourself.”
