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“Go. Fuck. Yourself!”
Then I end the call, drop the phone and throw myself into Dax’s arms. He hauls me against his chest and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m so proud of you, Kid. God fucking knows I want to kill that cunt for speaking to you the way he did.”
“He won’t let this go, Dax,” I reply, knowing with absolute certainty that he’ll follow through on his threat, or at least try to. Despite that, I’m not alone anymore. I don’t need to kowtow to his cruelty and brutality. It’s time to stand up to my brother.
“You’re right, he won’t, but what the fucker doesn’t realise is that I won’t let him hurt you ever again. You hear me, Kid.Never again,” Dax says vehemently. Then he cups my face in his palms and kisses me until I forget my brother’s threat and all the years of abuse I’ve endured by his hand.
“Come on, let’s dance one more time,” Dax says, taking my hand in his. He picks up his mobile phone and selects a song, bluetoothing it to the speakers before tucking it back into his back pocket.Rise Upby Andra Day starts to play; it’s the song we’ve chosen to choreograph a duet too and the words mean a lot to the both of us.
Dax understands how I feel more than most. He understands what it’s like to live with abuse daily. He understands the pain, the self-hatred, the disappointment, the bitterness and anger. He understands the fear and the rage. We will rise up above our past abuse. Together we will overcome all of the heartache and sadness because all we really need is each other, just like the song suggests.
Pressing his palms against mine, we raise our hands slowly upwards. Dax smiles down at me, his chest heaving as I slide my right leg out to the side, sweeping it behind me and drawing an imaginary half-circle with my pointed toe. Placing all the weight on my back foot I walk backwards as Dax moves forwards, our hands still pressed together.
“We’ll get through this,” he says, sliding his hands down my arms and torso in a sensual sweep, until finally resting them on my waist. “Your brother is a black stain. He’s discoloured your life for too long now. It’s time to fight back, Pen.”
“I know that,” I respond, lowering my hands to his shoulders. “I’m done being scared.”
Dax nods, his fingers curling tighter around my waist as he presses a lingering kiss against my lips. On the next beat he lifts me up on straightened arms, the muscles flexing with tension beneath his skin as he holds me aloft. You would think I weigh nothing, held up like this with my thighs pressed against his torso and my hair falling in a shroud around us both, but Dax is strong, both physically and mentally. He’s my protector, my dark knight, and one fourth of my beating heart.
“I love you, Kid. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what,” he says, a fierce protectiveness blazing in his eyes as he bends his arms and legs then throws me up in the air, just like we’ve been practising. I throw my legs out, twisting my body so that it’s horizontal to the floor and just for a brief moment my heart stops beating in fear that he won’t catch me.
But he does.
Every single time he catches me when I fall.
As soon as I land in his arms, I fling my arms above my head and point my feet before he flips me so that my stomach is pressed against his and I’m wrapped around his waist, my knees against his lower back, my arms reaching for my calves. Pressed against him this way, his skin hot against mine, his muscles firm,strong,as he holds me, I feel safe.
“I won’t ever let you go, Kid. Trust me to keep you safe,” he mutters, and I feel his strength encircle me as he bends his knees and curls over my back until we’re joined together like two interlocking chains, separate from each other but part of a whole.
For the next few beats of the song, we remain joined together this way until he slowly lifts his torso and I unfurl from around his waist, rolling my body so that my back hits the firmness of his thighs and he helps me to stand.
With his hand curled in mine, we turn back-to-back, my head resting against his spine. I feel the thump of his heart, sure and strong. I feel the heat of his body pervade mine. I feel the intention in his movements as he rolls his body, then bends at the waist, leaning over to the side as his tattooed arm slides over my stomach. I mirror him, leaning to the side, my arm sliding across his abs. The love in his eyes as I twist my head to face him, takes my breath away. His fingers press against my skin as we straighten up. My hand falls away from his torso and Dax steps around me, so that we’re facing each other.
“You have me forever, Kid,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against mine and resting his hands against my hips. He kisses me then, a tender brush against my lips before he spins away and waits for me on the other side of the studio. I move towards him, every sway of my hips, and point of my toes, every twist and turn, every goddamn step full of meaning, intention,love.
He’s a fighter, just like I am.
A goddamn survivor.
Then I run, closing the gap. Power surges through my veins as I step up onto his bent leg and he wraps his arm around my thigh, lifting me up onto his shoulder in one smooth move.
It’s a precarious hold, but I’m not afraid.
I trust him.
I trust our bond.
I trust that somehow, we’llrise up.
That we’ll get through this. That’ll we’ll find stability and safety eventually.
Dax moves across the studio with me sitting on his shoulder, with every step he takes I trust in his strength, in his ability to be my safety net. My Dark Knight carries me as though I weigh nothing, as though I am a part of him, an extension of his body.
And when I tumble to the side, my leg rolling off his shoulders, he catches me once again.
He makes sure I land safely.
Locking eyes with me, Dax nods. He smiles his beautiful, heart-stopping smile before he spins away from me in a series of barrel turn leaps. I mirror him, and we synchronise our movements across the studio floor. The humid air rushing over our skin. Both of us are covered in a sheen of sweat as we dance with the music flooding our veins, with hope pumping our hearts, with trust and love moving our feet and feeding out movements.
