“You’re a good man, a good dad, and you’re going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that,” I say, turning my head and inhaling her scent again. “You can’t know that I’m going to get out of this without breaking so many peoples’ hearts. You can’t tell me that if I walk now, that I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I can live with hurt, Nate,” she whispers.
I pull back, cupping her cheeks in my hands. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
“Neither should you.”
We stare at each other, powerful emotion crackling between us. God, I want to kiss her. I want to lay her down and claim her, and then I want to hold her in my arms and wrap my body around hers. I don’t want another man to have that—I don’t want to let her go. I can’t let her go. I’ve gotten in too deep. I’ve allowed myself to feel possessive over something that is not mine.
“Nate,” she says, her voice weary. “Please.”
Please what? Please don’t? Please do?
“Dancer,” I rasp, my voice ragged and thick. “You’re making this so fuckin’ hard.”
“Make your choice now, Nate,” she whimpers, her voice low and soft. “Because if you kiss me, I’m going to crumble, and there’s a very real chance I’ll end up hurt and completely heartbroken. There’s a chance if you walk away that you’ll end up the same. I can’t . . . I can’t say no to you. I don’t want to say no to you. But I don’t want you to make me that girl, so please, make a choice.”
I lean in, my lips so close to hers I can feel little puffs of air tickling my face. “Do you know what I would give to wake up beside you every morning? To feel you in my arms each night? Do you know, Dancer, what I would give?”
“Probably the same I’d give,” she says, her voice wobbling.
I swipe a tear from her cheek that slides down.
“Goodnight, Avery.”
Her lip trembles as I pull back.
I don’t look back as I climb through the window and into the darkness.
~*~*~*~
AVERY
“Very good,” I say to my eight-year-old student, Jenny.
She spins and swoops low. Her back is a little stiff, but she’s a good dancer for her age. She’s my first full time student, and it’s been quite challenging.
“That’s it, just loosen your back, Jen,” I encourage.
She tries again, but her body is still too stiff.
“Here, let me show you.”
She stops dancing and turns to me. I do the move quickly, spinning around and closing my eyes, letting it take over me the way it always has. When I’m done, Jenny smiles, her eyes bright. She’s looking at me like I’m her future—like I’m hope.
“Try again,” I say, standing back.
She does the move again, much smoother this time. I nod and encourage her through it until she’s got it almost perfect.
“Great, Jenny,” I say, clapping my hands. “You did really well. We’re done for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time.”
“Thanks Avery.” She smiles, rushing to her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.
When she’s gone, I make my way to the lockers and I change into my work uniform. I’ve managed to get extra hours at the library, as well as pick up a bar attendant job in the city. It’s enough combined for me to pay my new rent and also keep up the teaching. It’s not easy, and there are days I wonder how long I can push through it, but I’m still surviving.
My father hasn’t spoken to me since the day after I left Jacob. I rang him the next morning and he abused me so heavily I ended up hanging up on him. Basically, he told me he was disappointed and that he wouldn’t be supporting me again until I got back on track and corrected my mistakes. He will be holding his breath for a long time, because there won’t be any corrections.
I’m finally happy.
I finish up here and then I make my way over to the bar. I’m working tonight, and luckily for me, it’s just around the corner from the dance studio. When I arrive, it’s already bustling. It’s a Saturday night and I usually make great tips. I see Quinn, a girl I’ve befriended over the past week, standing at the bar, flipping glasses into the dishwasher. She notices me and smiles, waving.
“Hey, Avery.”
I wave back, quickly rushing out back to put my stuff down. I tie my hair up and lean down to do up my laces before heading out to help her.
“How’s things?” she asks as I begin drying some glasses.
“Not too bad, what about you?”
She shrugs. “So so. I have so much study to do it’s snowing me under.”
I frown. “I know the feeling.”
A man comes up to the bar and smiles at both of us. He’s about forty and reasonably good looking with black wavy hair and striking blue eyes. “Can I get a whiskey, neat.”
I nod and prepare his drink for him, and then I slide it across the bar. He hands me some cash and I quickly get his change. He grins at me as I place it in his hands, and I feel his fingers curl around mine as he takes it.
“Do you have a name, sweetheart?”
Ugh.
“It’s Bianca,” I lie.
“Well, Bianca,” he purrs, “thank you.”
I give him a false smile as he walks away.
“Gross,” Quinn mutters. “Some men are so wrong.”