by M.A. Stacie
“I don’t know. I wish I had that answer for you. I’m disgusted with her. She knew all along, and yet she was happy to leave you in the dark. She let you hold her goddamned hand while she shoved another man’s baby out! How the hell can she live with herself?”
“Emmie swore Tatum was mine.”
Dale huffed. “Well, she would say that. She knew she was on to a good thing and that you’d support her and the baby. You sold your bike, got a bigger apartment, and basically quit the band.” She shook her head, sending her dark curls flying. “What’s her defense now?”
He shrugged. “I have no clue. Like I said, I opened the letter just before you banged on the door.”
“Have you considered still being there for her? I mean, still being her father.”
Trace grunted. “I’ve thought about nothing else. I’ve been debating it since we had the test. But the thing is, I’m not going back to Emmie, and as much as I hate the idea, Tate has a father out there. That man deserves to know she exists. I don’t want to accept all this, don’t want to discard her. I’m lost.”
“You’re not discarding her. This choice was never yours. Shit, Trace.”
He gulped back a fresh flood of tears and scrubbed his face with his palms. “I need to think.”
Dale nodded and changed the subject. “We came to drag you out. Didn’t we, baby?”
Trace watched as she picked her daughter up and settled Ella on her knee. She tickled her before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Tell Uncle Trace where we’re going.”
“Tutu!” Ella shouted and flung her arms out wide.
Trace wasn’t sure he heard right. His niece was just starting to form words that were understandable, but he could have sworn Ella said tutu. Leaning toward her, he tapped the tip of her nose. His heart ached all over again. “Where is tutu?”
Ella hopped off Dale’s lap and began twirling around in circles. “ ’Ance! Pretty!”
Raising his head to look at his sister, he said, “You’re going to have to decipher that for me, D. I’m lost.”
“We came to see if you’d like to come with us to Ella’s first ballet lesson. She’s very excited and desperately wants a tutu.”
“Ah.” He finally grasped the two-year-old’s chatter.
“She wants to be a princess, and princesses do pretty dances.”
“She has a wicked imagination.” His smiled faded. “But I can’t come. Feels wrong.”
“Mourning for the loss of Tatum is understandable, Trace. However, ask yourself what stagnating in this shell will do? Truthfully, I think staying here will make you feel worse. This never felt like your home. Their stuff may be gone but the memories are still here, and torturing yourself with them won’t help.”
Christ, he hated it when his sister was right. She was a smart-ass to begin with; knowing she’d hit the bull’s-eye just made her worse.
“So what do you suggest? Move in with you and the mighty Kyran Reese?”
Her grin made her eyes sparkle. “Hell no! I do think you should consider moving. A fresh start all around might help. Get back to the band. Drum would love having you on board again. Sell that ridiculous car and get yourself a space that’s yours. Ky loves that nickname, by the way.” Sarcasm laced her tone. “He calls his father the very same thing.”
“Yeah, but Kyran is serious when he says that. I’m just messing. I like the guy—you know that.”
Dale didn’t answer, their conversation interrupted by Ella rushing over to her uncle. “Tate, plug.” She lifted her hand, passing Trace the pacifier he’d seen earlier. “Plug.”
“Yes, Ella,” he replied lowly. “It’s Tatum’s plug. I’ll give it to her, okay?”
Ella nodded before plonking herself back onto the floor and returning to her raisins and juice.
“Are you going to see her again, then? Do you like having your heart lacerated?” Dale asked.
“Tone it down. I’m not going. I can’t face her knowing what I do.” He groaned and began rubbing at his chest. The ache wouldn’t go. “I’ll call Emmie later to make sure she’s gotten the results, too. I suppose I need to talk to my lawyer as well. My name’s on the birth certificate.”
“Do you need me to talk to Kyran? He’ll have someone who could help you. Though you need to be sure before you take action regarding anything.”
Trace exhaled, tossing his head back until it hit the couch. He stared at the ceiling. “This is a mess. A great big fu—effing mess.”
“I know. I’d love to be able to change the percentage on that letter, but we can’t. Maybe we should be thankful you found out now and not years later? Can you imagine the heartache you’d feel after say . . . ten years?”
Trace winced. “I don’t know if it can feel any different than now. Pain is pain, right? I changed my life based on a lie.”
“Oh, Trace.” His sister touched Ella, her action one of possession. Trace was certain Dale was unaware of the touch, but he saw it for what it was—confirmation that her child remained. It hurt, even though there wasn’t a drop of malice in his sister’s action. Looking at Ella had his chest constricting, the bands around his heart tightening with each passing second.
“What do I do, D?” he choked out. “What the hell do I do? She was mine . . . and now, she’s not.”
His sister’s green eyes fluttered closed, tears glittering along her lashes. “I wish I knew. It breaks my heart. I can’t believe you kept this from me. I can’t believe she did this to you.”
Combing his fingers through his hair, Trace gave the strands a sharp tug, desperate to regroup. His thoughts were so scattered, his feelings in tatters on the floor. The lies had ripped his insides out, leaving him hollow and raw, and even though he was thankful for Dale’s company, he needed to be alone. For a moment, he understood his brother-in-law’s need to pummel flesh and bone. The crunch of cracking bone right now might be somewhat satisfying. He had to a find a way through it all, find a way of dealing with the betrayal to take that next step forward.
He cleared his throat and inhaled. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll come with you.” He tapped his niece on the nose. “I’ll watch this little one be a princess for an hour.”
“Are you sure?” Dale questioned, already picking Ella up.
Trace shrugged. “I can’t let her down. She wants me to come, so I will. But I’m saying this right now—I’m not dancing. I’m sitting and watching. That is all.”
“That may be a good thing. I’ve seen you when you dance, and I wouldn’t want to inflict that on so many young eyes. It could scar them for life.”
“Funny,” he shot back, looking around for his jacket.
Dale stilled his movements when she placed her hand on his arm, her expression one of concern. “Are you sure? I don’t want to force you into anything. Especially not now.”
“Don’t, D. Let’s just . . . go. Please?”
His sister nodded. He could only hope she understood his need to bury it all for a few hours. He had no clue what he was going to do, or how he was supposed to deal with the torrent of feelings that coursed through him. However, for now, he was going to ignore it all. He was going to watch his niece be a princess.
Chapter 3
“Mom, I can handle a class with little kids. You need to rest.” Shae Bennett watched her mother roll her eyes. “You’ve had a hip replacement, not a cavity filled.”
“Darling, I’m well aware of what those butchers did, but I’m not going to race around the room, am I?”
“I don’t see how you can stay seated. The kids are young in this class. They’re going to be wild. Let me take it, Mom. You know I can, and you can stay and supervise. If you must.”
Her mom shook her head, though Shae wasn’t sure it was a denial. They usually got along well, but since the operation, her mom had been going stir crazy. The woman poured her heart and soul into the dance studio, and being unable to teach the children while she healed frustrated
her. Shae understood, though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying the extra responsibility.
Looking at her reflection in the wall of mirrors, she combed her fingers through her short bobbed hair. Her hairdresser had promised her the new layers would keep it tidy. He’d lied. Her hair was as messy as ever. Some people assumed she styled it that way, but the truth was it was unmanageable. She’d given up trying.
“You’ll have to cover yourself, if you’re taking the lesson,” her mother said from her chair in the corner of the room.
Shae looked down at her leggings and bright sports bra. “I’ll put a T-shirt on.” She arched a brow. “Does that mean you’re letting me?”
She felt the affection of her mother’s smile. “Do I have a choice?”
“Sure you do. But you know I’m right.”
Pursing her lips, Shae could see that her mom was stifling another smile. “Darling, you will not get me to admit that. Twenty-eight years in my care should have taught you that.”
“Oh, I know that, Momma. It doesn’t hurt to try, though.” She walked over to where her mom sat and kissed the top of her head. “I just want you to get better. The studio needs you.”
“The studio?”
Shae shrugged. “Of course. I’m a big girl now. I don’t need my mommy looking after me.”
Her mother snorted and patted Shae’s hand. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe it will be reality soon. Until then, you’ll continue to work in the job provided by me. And continue to sleep under my roof.”
“I’ll do that.” She craned her neck, hearing the patter of tiny feet on the other side of the door. “Did you have a plan for today? It sounds like we have little ballerinas waiting.”
Smiling warmly, her mother spread her arms and began moving them with grace. “I’m expecting some new starters today. So beautiful arms would be a wonderful first lesson.”
“Butterflies?”
Her mother nodded. “Of course. I shall find the right music while you greet the little ladybugs.”
Shae grabbed her T-shirt and pulled it on before opening the door. She smiled at the excited little girls who were waiting for their lesson. The chairs were filled with a wriggling sea of pink tutus and tights, each girl chattering in anticipation. Shae had always enjoyed the dance studio when it was full. The buzz of people, the excitement and energy would make her pulse race. It used to do the same thing whenever she watched her mom dance.
As a child, Shae had sat in the corner of the dance hall, mesmerized by her mother as she twirled and undulated around the room. On special occasions, she had been allowed to stay up late and watch her mom on stage. Shae’s had been the loudest claps of the night. She was very proud of her mother.
Lisbeth Bennett had been a wonderful prima ballerina.
It was no surprise that Shae had followed in her dancing footsteps. However, right from the start, Shae had preferred to remain out of the spotlight. The stage was not where she found her joy. Teaching the art was more her calling.
“Hello, little ladybugs,” Shae said, greeting the girls. “Who’s ready to dance?”
A chorus of “me” filled the waiting area as a multitude of hands shot into the air. A few of the mothers tried to calm their children, but Shae didn’t mind the noise. The girls were excited, and would burn off the excitement during the lesson.
“Excellent.” She placed a finger to her lips and shushed the children. “Okay, so if you’ve been here before, go into the hall and say hi to Miss Lisbeth. Anyone new, stay here and tell me your name.”
A wave of little girls rushed past her in a pink flurry, the parents followed after them. It left two little girls sitting on the couch, both clutching their mom’s hands tightly. Shae introduced herself to the women, crouching down to make eye contact with the girls. “Hi there. I’m Shae. I’m going to be your dance teacher. Are you excited?”
They both nodded, one of then shuffling forward in her seat. “I’m Alice.”
“Hello, Alice. Would you like to go into the hall and join the others? Your mom will be in to watch you in a few minutes.”
Alice raced into the room, leaving her mom free to fill out a few forms. Shae turned to the other little girl. “And what’s your name, sweetie?”
“Ella.” She snuggled up to her mom’s side.
“Would you like to be a ballerina, Ella?”
She shook her head, sending her hair flying. “No. Princess.”
“Ella wants to be a princess. She thinks they all dance and wear tutus.”
Shae smiled at the brunette who spoke. The woman clutched Ella close. Shae stared, envying the woman’s dark, curly hair before looking back at Ella. “Oh, well I think we can make you just like them.”
Ella giggled.
“You have to listen to the lady, baby. Then we can show Daddy how beautiful you look.”
Shae looked up, acknowledging the man standing behind Ella and her mom. His eyes were the first thing she saw, a light blue that was almost gray. They seemed to convey sadness, but as soon as she saw the flicker of hurt, the man locked it down.
The small interaction left her stumbling for words. “Um, well you can come into the studio if you want to watch your daughter. With the younger children, we don’t ask you leave for the lesson.”
Ella didn’t wait for the man’s response. Her impatience got the better of her. She jumped down from the couch and followed the other girls into the studio. Her mom rushed after her, saying, “I’m Dale, by the way—Dale Reese,” before disappearing from view.
An awkward silence remained, and Shae edged toward the door. She pointed at the studio, looking from it and then to Ella’s father. “Are you . . . um . . . coming to watch your daughter?”
He snorted, the edges of his lips curling upward as his eyes glinted with something close to amusement. She didn’t understand why the question was so funny. “Mr. Reese?”
A bellow of laughter burst free from those smiling lips, and her skin began to prickle with irritation. What the hell was his problem?
He pointed at her, still chuckling. “That’s funny. You know, I was feeling real crappy until I came here. You amuse me.”
“I don’t—”
“Shae, darling, the ladybugs are getting rather impatient,” her mom shouted.
Torn between wanting to speak to the man before her and needing to teach the children, Shae scowled. She opened her mouth, a question hovering on the tip of her tongue, when her mom shouted for her again. “I should go.”
He nodded, offering her a quick wave. Still confused, Shae turned and walked back into the studio. The girls skipped around the room, squealing and making it difficult for her to gather her wits. What had just happened?
“Are you all right?” her mother asked.
Shae nodded before clapping her hands to get the girls’ attention. She wouldn’t even know where to start with an explanation about her conversation with Ella’s father. The whole thing had been weird.
“Okay, bugs, I need you to line up and we’ll do some stretching before we dance.”
A hum of excitement rolled through the room as they did as she asked. Her mom set some gentle music playing, and she tried to forget the conversation. It was easier than she thought, the girls giving her the perfect distraction. They followed every request she made, each of them trying to mimic the way she stretched.
“Who can touch their toes?” she asked, smiling as they leaned over, many of them making little groaning noises. Shae bent over, placing her palms flat on the floor. The pull on her muscles felt wonderful. She checked on the girls from her bent position, smiling as they all tried to touch the floor. As she rose up, she noticed Ella’s father enter the room. He quirked a brow in her direction.
“Shae? Are we gonna be butterflies yet? Miss Lisbeth says we are.”
“Of course we are,” she replied, angling her body so that she could avoid looking at the man with the blue eyes. He unnerved her. She could feel her mother studying her
, which didn’t help her anxiety one bit. Her temperature began to rise, a thin sheen of sweat sprinkling along her forehead. She swiped her hand across it, blowing up toward her bangs in an attempt at cooling herself down. “C-can everyone make sure they have lots of space? Hold your arms straight out.” Shae showed the children what she meant and began waving her hands, making sure they moved with more elegance than she felt. “Can you all do this? Keep your fingers pointed and lower your arms slowly.”
Each one of her small students mirrored her, and she worked on forgetting the man and concentrating on the kids. Her mom started up a delicate tune, one that had the girls tiptoeing around and fluttering their imaginary wings. She watched Alice and Ella, happy that each of them was settling into the class well. It sometimes took a new starter a few lessons before they felt comfortable, especially one as young as Ella. The studio was the only one in the area to accept girls of her age, but Lisbeth had decided long ago that if the child wanted to try it, or had a talent for dance, they should be given the opportunity. Watching the way Ella giggled with the others was encouraging.
Shae joined in, leading them in a figure eight across the floor. The girls began making buzzing noises, following behind. She decided against pointing out that they were supposed to be butterflies, not bees. At least they were still trying to move their arms with grace. Kind of.
Clapping, she attempted to get them all back under control. “Who remembers how to do a princess bow?”
“Princess! Princess!” Ella shouted. “Mommy, princess!”
“That’s right, Ella. A princess bow. If you watch me, I’ll show you how to do it.”
The girls lined up, all eyes on Shae.
“Look at where my feet are and which way they point.” She waited while they all shuffled into position. “Now watch my arms. Remember the way you held them while you were being butterflies. Point your fingers.” Shae took her bow, receiving a clap from her mom. The girls followed, each of them trying to repeat her actions. Just seeing them wobble and stumble had her grinning. Each of the girls was trying their best, and that pleased her. Lisbeth would have loved for her to perform—for her to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but she enjoyed teaching more. Sure, there had been a time when she’d tried to be the best, but the stress of it all had turned her into someone she didn’t recognize. That’s when she’d reassessed her plans.
