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You’re not strong.
You can’t dance like you used to.
You’re not her dark angel.
I cover my head, shaking with cold, with emotion, with adrenaline as I reach up, my hand opening and closing to the beat of the music, timed with the pounding of my heart.
Then I slam my fist onto the floor.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
With every beat of my heart, with every crash of my fist against the concrete roof, I feel a surge of power, of strength, of self-belief.
Lifting my head, I pin Kid with my stare. Our gazes clash and I feel this wave of love that’s fucking powerful.
“Dax,” Kid breathes, her eyes glistening with more tears, tears that streak down her face as she chokes on a sob when I begin crawling towards her, hauling myself along on one hand and a painful stump.
“Get up, Dax,” she cries. “Don’t crawl to me. Don’t you dare fucking crawl.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod my head.
That’s enough.
I’m strong. I’m powerful. I’m Dax.
Pushing up on my hand and knees, I slowly climb to my feet, unfurling.
Transforming.
I’m not a broken man. I’m not someone to pity.
I will face my fears head on.
Iwillovercome.
“That’s it,” Kid gasps, stepping towards me, a wobbly smile forming on her lips. “Finish this.”
So with a heaving chest, I jerk my chin, grit my jaw and fling my arms wide and stamp my feet, squashing the doubts, the self-loathing, all my fucking insecurities.
“Dax,” she laments, and I feel the connection between us pull taut.
“Kid,” I croak out, flexing my fingers, my gaze focused and fierce on hers, and just like before, she doesn’t hesitate, sheruns, leaping into my arms.
And I do what I always do. Willalwaysdo.
I catch her.
TEN
Your Guilty Pleasure
DAX
