by Jenny Rabe
He grabbed her hands. “That’s absolutely not true. You have me.”
No matter what kind of relationship they were in, she could rely on him. “Thanks, Dean, for everything. I don’t think I could function without you.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she blinked them away.
Dean tapped his watch. “We should get to your dance studio. Have you gone yet? Classes should start in a few months, right?”
She looked out at the water. In that moment, there weren’t any expectations. No critical eyes judging her every move. No family drama. Starting next week, everything would change. If she wanted anything to work out in the fall with her dance studio, she had a laundry list of things to do. She stood up, ready to face whatever challenge came her way. “Yep, we should go.”
He took the trash in one hand and held out the other. “We gotta keep up appearances.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she resisted the temptation to touch him. She couldn’t get attached to him, not if she wanted to leave. Unless it was necessary, she wasn’t going to do anything that sent her affection for him into overdrive.
She playfully slapped his hand away. “Whatever.” On the way back to the truck, they passed the outside diner again and thanked Mrs. Fran.
“Don’t forget to send us a wedding invitation,” she yelled to them, gaining the curiosity of a new crowd.
Emilie shook her head. It was only a matter of time before the whole town knew.
“I have to run a few errands when we get back to town,” Dean said once they hopped in. “I’ll drop you off at the studio and pick you up in an hour.”
Emilie nodded. An hour’s work was all she could handle anyway. Besides what could she do with no staff and no dance students?
6
Dean
After stopping at the studio and waiting until Emilie was safely inside, Dean drove to La Buffet, one of the only fancy restaurants in town. The one place he could always find Ava. She’d worked there since high school. He should probably keep his mouth shut, but he had to settle things with Ava and stop the oncoming train wreck.
The hostess wasn’t in place by the time he forced himself to go inside. Since he knew most of the staff, he avoided them and skirted the front entrance. He peeked over the tall wall that separated the guests eating from the guests waiting to be seated. As he expected, only a handful of older regulars were here, eating their meals before the dinner rush.
He glanced around the room, his search jerking to a stop when he spotted Ava Smith, the only person in high school who had literally made him feel like his clothes were full of spiders. And yet, she was the only girl he’d dated since high school. Thankfully, Emilie hadn’t caught on to that when they’d met at the restaurant a year ago. He’d do anything to take that mistake to his grave.
Ava faced a booth, her hands busy with folding napkins from a bin and laying them in a stack. Her black outfit was neatly pressed, and her long dark hair swept across her face as she worked. The sensation of spiders crawling up his back returned. But instead of bolting, he remained rooted in place.
She turned and met his gaze. “Look what the fish dragged in. I thought one of your guys said you were too busy to deliver to us.”
Dean flinched but maintained his smile. “Not here on business. I was hoping to talk to you. Hope I’m not disrupting anything.”
She gave him a wry smile while lifting the stack of napkins. “Not much to interrupt.”
Dean raised his eyebrows and took a seat across from her in the nearest booth. “Rumor says you’re engaged to Finn Walter.”
Her confidence wavered for only a second. “What do you want?”
So that was how this conversation would go. “The rumor mill will get to you soon enough, so I wanted you to know I’m also engaged.”
Her face remained impassive, yet she fumbled with the napkin in her hand before it dropped to the floor.
Dean picked up the napkin and threw it on the table. “I’m marrying Emilie.” The words felt so new and wonderful on his tongue.
Ava’s hands stilled, but her face broke into a grin. “My best friend, Emilie Carter? You’re kidding, right?”
“Ex-best friend. And, no, I’m not kidding.” Dean hoped he could keep his lie up. Digging weaknesses out of people and exploiting them was Ava’s specialty. That wouldn’t happen to Emilie again. “We started dating about seven months ago. When did you get engaged?”
Ava’s expression didn’t waver. “Not too long ago.”
No doubt she rushed into things when her money went dry again. “And you’re getting married next month?”
“Yep, when you find someone worthy, you jump in with both feet. We’ve dated on and off for six years. About time we did something about it. You don’t want to waste time if it’s not right, right?”
Dean had said something similar to her the night he broke things off for good over four years ago. “I’m happy for you. He’s the guy you always went to for help anyway.”
Her smirk grated on his nerves. “I guess so. Is that why you came, to add your congratulations to the mix? Or to warn me not to tell Emilie about our little relationship?”
He gritted his teeth. So she wanted to play dirty. “What relationship? If you add the on-again, off-again little ‘episodes,’ they might equal something, but I wouldn’t call it a relationship. Anyway, haven’t you done enough damage to Emilie to last a lifetime?”
At those words, Ava ducked her head. Did she actually feel sorry for those horrible rumors she’d started? But a second later, a familiar evil glint returned to her eyes.
The greasy food from earlier churned in his stomach. She hadn’t changed a bit. When she’d approached him a year after graduation, it had been a relief to talk to someone about Emilie. Long talks about past memories ended with shameful kisses in his truck. The guilt of being with Emilie’s ex-best friend would eat at him for days until Ava popped out of his life again. At first, he told himself he kissed Ava to get revenge on Emilie for leaving, but he’d never been able to tell her, and it was going to stay that way.
He slammed his fist on the table, making the napkins jump. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You aren’t going to breathe a word about our misguided and unfortunate time together in the most unfocused and unmanaged years of my life to anyone, especially Emilie. And you’re going to apologize and make amends if you want her around you. I won’t sit by and see you ruin her name again.”
Ava’s smile teetered on her face. “Or what?”
His hands shook, and he clasped them together to keep her from seeing. “Or else I’ll have a few things to tell Finn. Just focus on being friends with Emilie again.”
Ava’s smile only grew, and an uncomfortable trickle of sweat slid down Dean’s back. If Emilie found out, everything he worked so hard for would be for nothing. She’d never forgive him. When things settled, he’d find the right time to tell her.
“Friends? I’m doing this because Finn asked me to include her and make things right.”
Heat crept up Dean’s neck, filling his cheeks. “You dragged her name through the mud and turned practically the entire senior class against her.”
Ava shrugged. “I still say everything was true. We don’t have proof it wasn’t.”
Trying to talk sense into her was like trying to hook a fish with a strawberry. It wouldn’t happen. He gave an exasperated sigh and turned to leave, but she caught his hand and pulled him toward her bench.
“Emilie and I are going to work things out. She’s valuable to me, so I’m not gonna mess anything up.”
He shifted away from the coffee scent on her breath. “You’re using her?”
Ava’s smile fizzled on her face, replaced by an ugly sneer. “If you want me to stay quiet, don’t mess with me.”
Dean shook his head, no longer willing to converse with her. “And what about Finn? Are you still using him for his money? Do you even love the guy?”
She grabbed his arm with desperation. “It’s been
a long time since I felt that way toward Finn. He’s been the only person who’s loved me and I won’t let you ruin this wedding.”
Dean huffed. “I didn’t come to stop you from being with Finn. If you love him, then the problem is solved.”
Her smile returned, though not as confident. “You were always one of the nice ones.”
He shook her hand away. “Have a good evening.”
Hurrying out of the restaurant, he checked his watch. It had only been half an hour since he’d dropped off Emilie at the dance studio, but he already missed her. The last few hours with her had been the breath of fresh air he needed, and he desperately wanted to be the person she needed.
With the studio a few blocks away, he had enough time to blow off some steam with a good rock song. A thrill of excitement rolled through him when he pulled up to the studio and saw Emilie dancing behind the glass window, unaware of anyone but herself. It’d been so long since he’d watched her dance.
After he rolled the windows down, he turned off the truck and let the breeze keep him cool. He was mesmerized by her performance on the dance floor, her ponytail swinging at each turn. She moved gracefully, like a boat on still water. Beautiful.
The last few years, he’d lost his focus. Dating other people meant moving on, and he couldn’t do it. Other than the four solid months they’d been together, he’d turned to Ava more times than he wanted to admit. He’d been stupid, really stupid.
His lids grew heavy after such an early morning, but it had been worth it. Instead of watching her every move, he leaned back in his seat and imagined Emilie dancing from behind closed eyelids.
7
Emilie
When the studio door clicked open, Emilie’s heart lightened.
Mrs. Linda, her old dance teacher, grinned at her, shaking a set of keys. Her gray hair was completely white, but other than the color of her hair and some added wrinkles, her favorite mentor didn’t seem to have changed. “Glad you called and I had some time to meet you. This place is all yours now.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Linda.” Emilie glanced around with stars in her eyes. The place looked amazing. So many years had passed, and yet, nothing had changed.
“I have to leave, but I’m so glad you’re buying this place. Too many people wanted to repurpose the building, but I waited two years, hoping an old student would get the place running again.”
Emilie leaned against the wall. If her dance teacher knew her true intentions, to sell the shop as soon as she left, Emilie would be embarrassed to even stand in front of her. The promise she and Dean had made only an hour before flashed through her mind. A year of commitment seemed right. Any less and she wasn’t giving her new life in Danvers a fighting chance.
The studio had been a part of her life since she was four, and it felt surreal to hold the keys to the building that had sculpted her into the person she was today. Mrs. Linda had given her a huge discount on the building, and with more than a year’s worth of savings in her account, she could actually pull it off. “I’m excited to get things rolling. I thought there would be a lot to do, but so far everything looks great.”
Mrs. Linda beamed and clapped her hands. “I didn’t want the studio to be spooky after sitting empty for so long, so I sent some workers in to spruce up the building. The stage area has had a major facelift as well. All yours now. Good luck. I’m excited to see what you can do.”
Emilie gave her a hug and let Mrs. Linda out, locking herself in.
First on the agenda: take a tour to assess what needed to be done. After a glance around the building, she found everything in working order. The walls were freshly painted, the floors recently waxed. Bouquets of fake flowers and pictures of dancers added a gentle touch.
The bathrooms worked, and the three rehearsal rooms remained as ageless as they’d been the night of her final rehearsal. The stage area had been widened and now included more rows of audience seats. In a few months, she’d host her first performance, if she could find dancers in time. If she were lucky, her dancing would be improved as well. Lots of work to do!
The narrow halls were long and spotless. She checked out the two adjoining offices where she’d keep track of business and have parent meetings. They were in working order but in dire need of new technology. The costume closet was organized and the old stereos at the side of each rehearsal room were in mint condition.
Mrs. Linda had left a dream for her to take over, and the former dance teacher’s overwhelming support lifted her spirits.
After turning off the lights, she headed to the main dance room and dropped her keys by the door. This place had been her haven for so long. Even after a couple of vacant years, it smelled the same: the familiar scent of pinewood and floor wax. Odd combination, but she loved it.
Everything was the same. The wooden barre which gave her so much grief over the years, the tile and wood floors which probably had splashes of her DNA in multiple places, even the water fountain had its familiar metallic taste which dancers never balked at in the middle of a rehearsal.
Silence enveloped her, bringing her safely to a spot mentally she understood. Her body shook with a desire to move. Lyrical dancing was her specialty, but she loved all forms of movement. Once again, she wanted to be connected to the floor and space. Her toes pointed the way across the floor. The movements were fluid at first as she leaned, turned and stretched, then more erratic as she thought about Finn and Ava and Dean.
She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, pushing away the thoughts she couldn’t handle. When her mom got sick, when her dad left, when the rumors about her family started, the inevitable breakup with Finn, her mom’s death. All through that, the dance studio was the one place she’d celebrated her successes and dealt with her pain.
Her breathing grew labored while she rushed across the floor, ignoring the mirrors and the windows and anything that connected her to elsewhere. Just her and the movement.
She spun in circles, the world revolving faster with every turn as she remembered the day her mother had urged her to follow her dreams. Even in her sicker moments, her mom always supported her dancing. She came to every recital, scraped to earn enough to send Emilie to dance school, and never got to see her daughter succeed as a dancer. Her mother had left Emilie everything she needed to start a new life, but it wasn’t enough.
I want my mom.
Emilie froze, the stillness more startling than the movement. After a second, she dropped to her hands and knees and wept, letting her tears wet the old dance floor. For six years she bottled up everything, never allowing herself to deal with her mother’s death. Instead, she moved away, distracting herself with practice and schedules and performances.
To fix my dancing, I have to fix my heart.
The answer was so clear, it was as if a voice had spoken the words to her. If she dealt with the past, her dancing would improve, she had no doubt. Just in the last year whenever she danced, she imagined her mother watching from a distance. Instead of comforting, her mom’s presence was unnerving and ominous. Emilie had taken breaks at practice, time off, even missed a show, but nothing helped. Only the thought of dealing with her past eased her mind.
Her tears flowed freely, and she succumbed to them, tucking herself into a ball and letting them pool underneath her face.
It’d been years since she’d cried in that room. Though facing her past seemed monumental, she held to the small ray of hope that it was the key to moving on.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, curled in a fetal position, but when the tears stopped, she stood, ready to face her challenges. When she did, she caught a glimpse of Dean’s truck parked outside and hurried to lock up. At least she had Dean.
When she opened the truck door, his still body rested against the side of the cab. A loud snore cut across the silence, making her jump. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Dean, wake up.”
When he didn’t respond, she climbed in and shut the door with a sharp snap. Not even th
at woke him up. A faint memory came to her; his mom had once said that kissing him awake was the only thing that worked.
What a ridiculous idea. She clapped loudly a few times. Not even a flinch. She leaned over and cleared her throat loudly. Nothing.
Before she could stop herself, her attention fell on his lips, his always soft, perfect-sized lips. How did such a wide smile come from such a small mouth? Her mind battled with the desire to kiss him and the fear that if she did, it would mess everything up. The last and only time they’d kissed hadn’t panned out very well.
The night after her mom’s funeral, Dean had found her shaking beside the steps of the house while her dad packed her things. He’d begged her to stay, even invited her to live with him until graduation, but nothing worked. She was set on getting out of town. When she hugged him goodbye for the last time, he’d lifted her chin and kissed her. It’d lasted a second, but filled her from her head to her toes with excitement. Since they had never talked about it, Emilie chalked the kiss up to a friendly goodbye, even thought it was a kiss that had made her knees weak.
Behind his eyelids, Dean’s eyes bounced. A slight stubble shadowed his chin. She couldn’t sit still any longer.
In one swift movement, she scooted next to him on the bench seat. The movement didn’t stir him in the slightest. He looked so peaceful with his head tilted on the edge of the seat toward her. Aftershave and mint filled her nose. She moved her face closer to his. Heat swirled in her stomach at the thought of pressing her lips to his.
Before she could doubt herself, she plunged forward. At the last minute, she chickened out and pressed her lips to his cheek instead. His eyes startled open, and she backed away just enough to give him space.
