by C. A. Harms
Last year I thought this group was exceptional, but they've outdone themselves.
I share our last and final rehearsal information and give them each the paperwork they need to go to the front to collect their costumes. Then, one by one, they exit the room, and I wait until the door is closed behind them before I walk over to the player and switch the music.
As part of the show, the studio owner asks that each teacher perform their own chosen solo, and for me, I've gone with Ballet for the last two years. It's easy, less risky, and my comfort zone. But this year, I've decided to mix it up a bit.
A big part of why I love to dance so much is that it's a way to express one’s self without words. So much can be seen through the movements of the body. Emotions that you can't quite share have a way of surfacing.
I stand with my back to the mirror, not wanting to criticize myself too much and feel the music. I'm my own worst enemy when it comes to my skills, constantly feeling as though I'm not giving it my all. Like it can be better, it's always been a downfall of mine.
The music filters throughout the room from the speakers mounted in each corner. I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm, my feet moving along without hesitation.
Dancing is the very thing that grounds me. It's my peace, the place I can go, and my troubles seem to fade, even if only for a while.
Lost in the music, I hadn't heard the door open, or that someone is calling out my name. Not until the music abruptly stops do I realize I'm no longer alone in the studio.
"Hey," I say, staring back at Margaret, the owner of the studio. "Sorry," I'm a bit out of breath and force an apologetic smile as I attempt to regain my composure. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Sutton," the way she says my name again is alarming.
"What is it?" I step toward her feeling my stomach flip with nervous energy. My throat is burning while I again try to slow my breathing. Only my exertion mixing with concern makes it difficult.
"There's been an accident," my heart feels like it stops as I hold my breath waiting for her to continue. "Your mom called, and she needs you to meet her at the hospital." Just then, my phone starts going off in my bag across the room, and I realize the music had probably muted its sound before. My legs feel so heavy, like no matter how hard I try to, I won't be able to make them move.
"My father?" I already know the answer, but still, I'm so lost in the moment that my heart feels like it is crumbling slowly inside my chest.
"I'll drive you," she places her hand on my shoulder, and it's the jolt I need to snap out of the moment. I allow Margaret to guide me as she grabs my bag and hands it to me before leading me from the room.
Once I am tucked inside of her car and driving out of the parking lot, I pull out my phone and see the number of missed calls and texts that have flooded my phone: my mom, Adley, Aunt Jean, and even Lexi. Tears cloud my vision, making it impossible to read the texts any longer.
But every message contains the same information.
The tractor pinned him against the building.
The idea that we may lose my father cripples me. A world without John West in it, is a world I don't know how to live in. I know that alone, would destroy both my mother and I. I'm numb as I stare down at my phone held tightly in my hands. I can no longer see it through my tears, but I remain in that exact position until we slow to a stop outside the emergency room entrance.
"Darlin', do you need me to take you inside?"
I lift my head for the first time since we left the studio and look toward the big sliding glass door. Going inside will make this entire situation more real, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
"I can walk you in. But I need to park first."
"I'm good," I'm nowhere near good. I'm falling apart at the seams. I reach for the door handle and pull open the door, slowly climbing out. Clutching my purse to my chest, I begin to move toward the entrance.
I feel like the closer I get, the harder it is to breathe. The sounds of the doors sliding open echo through the quiet waiting area.
"Sutton," Aunt Jean stands and rushes toward me with Adley close behind. Both of their eyes are red and evident of recently shed tears. I take in a shaky breath as I scan over the waiting area. "Your mother is back with the doctor," Adley answers my unspoken question, and I nod, still feeling like my throat is on fire.
"Is he," I can't even finish the question?
"Oh hun, no," Aunt Jean pulls me in for a tight hug, and that's the point where my legs give out from beneath me, and together we slowly fold to the floor. It' the first time I've given in to the fear I've felt from the first moment Margaret told me something had happened to my father. I've been numb until now.
"He's in surgery; the fork on the tractor missed his femoral artery by only a small fraction. He is fortunate." I nod into her shoulder. "However, there is a lot of damage to his left leg, and he will have to undergo several weeks of therapy after he recovers." Again, I nod my throat so raw that I know I won't be able to speak even if I try.
I don't remember a time in my life when my heart has ever hurt so badly. Just the idea of losing my father is crippling.
Chapter Twenty
Brantley
* * *
"What's up with you and Lex?" I don't look up when Aaron decides to question Bennett.
I've been laying low. I was skipping on the nights out with the crowd. I've made excuses every time I'd been invited to breakfast or to hang out at the lake.
I found it easier that way.
But I've paid attention to the hassling the guys have been throwing in Bennett's direction in regard to Lexi, though he's repeatedly denied it at every turn.
"Nothing's going on with Lexi and me," he assures everyone as he sits down and kicks out his mud and concrete coated boots. We've been pouring and leveling a concrete driveway for the last five hours, and now we sit in the shade, taking some time to cool down. I take another drink of my water, refusing to look up at either of them.
I shouldn't care that Bennett may have something going on with Lexi, but I do. It pisses me off that he holds some claim on Sutton even though they aren't together.
"We just hang out, is all," I glance up just in time to see Bennett grinning as he takes a drink of his Gatorade to hide his smile.
"Yeah, well, that used to be you and Sutton." I look away quickly before anyone around me notices how I'm hanging on to every word.
"Sutton and I still talk." I haven't heard much of anything on that topic, but then again, I am keeping my distance. A quietness falls over the group, and I notice how Aaron is tapping away on his phone. Then he lowers it and puts it into his pocket. "I just asked Lexi out," he smirks, "figured since nothing is going on there, you wouldn't mind."
I watch Bennett try not to react as he leans back against the tree and takes yet another drink. The muscle in his jaw tenses over and over. A familiar twitch I, too, suffer from when I try to hold my shit together.
When Aaron's phone makes a beep indicating an incoming message, he grins wide and pulls out his phone, bringing it around in front of him. "Lex," he smirks and swipes the screen.
Suddenly Bennett is up and diving for Aaron as he tries to grab his phone from him. "Back off, asshole," Aaron chuckles as he falls back and curls in a ball. "I didn't ask her out. I just asked her what she was up to." Again, Aaron laughs as Bennett shoves him and sits back up. "Damn," I watch as they both brush themselves off before Aaron refocuses on his phone.
His smile quickly fades, and I figure it's yet another attempt to get under Bennett's skin until his throat bobs as he looks up at me and then Bennett. Almost like he isn't sure who he should speak to first.
"What's wrong?" I ask, no longer feeling the urge to remain hidden.
"He's a dick; that's what's wrong." Bennett kicks at Aaron's boot, and he says nothing, holding my stare.
"Bennett, shut the fuck up," I growl, not for a second taking my eyes off my cousin. "What?" I say again.
"Sutton's dad
was in an accident." I stand before I know what I'm doing, and Bennett hurries to follow. It hits me then that I can't react, though inside I feel like I might snap from being wound so tight.
"What kinda accident? Is he okay?" Aaron is typing away on his screen but says nothing. "Aaron," Bennett takes a step toward him when he doesn't answer, and he looks up from his phone.
"I don't know."
"Fuck this," Bennett takes off toward his truck, and I have half a mind to follow him, only I wait.
"Lex," I hear Bennett say from where he stands next to his truck, and he's holding his phone to his ear. His back is to us.
I look back to Aaron, and I immediately notice the sympathetic look he's giving me. "Call Sutton," I am fully aware of my demanding tone, but I don't care.
"You sure that's a good idea?"
"Call her," he pauses, looking back toward Bennett, and I can feel my patience growing thinner by the second. When he lifts his phone and taps something on the screen before holding it out to me, I waste no time taking it. After the third ring, I'm sure it's about to go to voicemail when her sweet low voice speaks from the other end.
"Hey Aaron," and just as it has every other time I've heard her voice, my heart races.
"It's Brant," she grows quiet, and I fear it's because I'm the last person she wants to hear from, but I don't let the worry stop me. "How's your dad?"
Slowly she takes in a deep breath and exhales; immediately, I hear the shudder it holds, and my chest grows tight. I look back to find Bennett still on his phone. "He's in surgery."
"You need anything?"
"I need him to be okay." The sweet twang in her voice seems even more noticeable when she's worried or scared.
"He will be sweetheart," I glance at Aaron and find him worrying his lip. I know I'm pushing the limits and that I've now put him in the middle. For that, I feel awful, but I can't sit here and not do anything.
"You got a pen?"
"What?"
"Write my number down, and I don't care what time, if you need anything at all, you call me. Even if it's just so that you can cry and have someone reassure you that everything's gonna be okay." She doesn't say anything. "Sutton?"
I hear her take in another deep breath, and I bow my head, imagining her sitting in a corner, curled into herself alone. I wish more than anything I was there and that I could pull her into my lap and hold her. "Yeah."
"You ready for that number, babe?"
Aaron fidgets, and I look back to see Bennett leaning back against the side of his truck. When Sutton says ‘kay, I rattle it off to her as I hear a truck door close. “Use it, Sutton.” I tell her, “Any time.”
"I will," it's my turn to take in a deep breath.
"Bye, sweetheart," and I end the call before discreetly giving Aaron his phone back. I can tell that he isn't happy about what I've done, but it was my only option, and I had to hear her voice.
"He's in surgery," Ben says as he pauses in front of us, running his hand through his hair. "Lexi said that he'll have a long road of recovery ahead of him. So, I thought I'd get outta 'ere and get cleaned up early. I feel like I should be there, ya know."
I force a nod because my entire body is full of the urgency to do the same.
"Do you guys mind finishing up here?"
"We got it," I assure him, and he thanks me before running back to his truck and climbing up inside.
"You need to fucking talk to him, Brant," and tell him what? "It's gotta be better than whatcha’ got going on now. This shit's gonna ignite, and I'll tell ya right now, none of us are taking fucking sides. This mess is between you two."
Aaron walks off, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and right now, the only thoughts I have are of Sutton. Wrong or right, I want her and need to hold her and tell her that no matter what, everything will be okay.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sutton
* * *
I sit at my father's bedside, with my feet propped up on the chair before me and a blanket pulled up to my chin. Everyone went home long ago, and I volunteered happily to sleep over in my father's room. I refuse to leave. I'm a proud daddy's girl, and the fear instilled in me is more than I want in my lifetime. The last thing I want is to be away from him. My mother has gone home to clean up, and then I suspect she'll be back too.
My father is our rock, our foundation. So, the idea of losing that is crippling.
It's quiet with only the beeping sounds of machines in his room. One is monitoring my father's heart, and it is the one I can't look away from. It's the reassurance that he is here, and he is strong.
That, mixed with the consistent rise and fall of his chest, helps me relax. I'm exhausted, and what I need to do is sleep, only I can't. Except for a few crass words and mumbles, that is all my father has given us. He has yet to wake up fully and show us the kind eyes that we long to see.
I think then I'll be able to feel the calm that's been missing for hours.
I reach out and grab my phone from the table next to my dad's bed. Unplugging the charger, I see the battery full. I've managed to play more games of candy crush than any sane person should in twelve hours. Then I moved on to reading, but even then, my attention span wasn't alert enough to register the words, so that too is pointless.
I open my contacts, fully intending to message Adley and the girls to thank them for the support today when one number seems to jump out among all the others. A number I tapped into my phone, unsure if I'd ever use it. A warm feeling rushes through me, remembering his soothing words; though it was a short call, it meant so much.
I don't care what time, if you need anything at all, you call me.
I glance up at my dad, looking over his monitors once more, and then back to my phone. My hands shake as my finger hovers over the message button. I talk myself out of messaging him three times before I typed out my thoughts and hit send quickly. Immediately regret hits me.
Me: Thank you for thinking of me today. It means a lot.
Of all the things I could have said, it had to be that. Brantley wasn't thinking of me; he was thinking of my father.
Brantley: I wish today were the only day you've consumed my thoughts, but I'd be lying if I said that were true.
My heart races as I stare at the screen. I haven't seen Brantley since he'd found Bennett hugging me outside the bar. Before that, it was when I'd thrown myself at him in his truck by the lake. So, to say my track record with him is smooth would be a colossal lie. The thing is, I find him to be the most confusing man I've ever met. He says one thing, but his actions make me feel the complete opposite. He is like Jekyll and Hyde.
Brantley: How's your pops doing?
Me: Sleeping.
Brantley: And you?
Me: Tired, but okay.
Brantley: You should get some sleep.
Me: Impossible task while at the hospital. My mom went home to get some things and clean up. I might go home when she gets back.
I wait for him to respond, only he is quiet after that. So, I sit there in the darkness, staring at my phone, willing him to respond. I read through our thread over and over, wondering if I said something to scare him off.
Sometime later, light floods the room some, I must have dozed off at one point. I squint, giving my eyes the chance to adjust to the brightness. My mother steps inside the room and walks toward me. "Has he woken up at all?"
"No," I say through a yawn, and she leans over to kiss my cheek. "He's groaned a few times, and they came in to adjust his pain meds, but that's about it."
"You should go home and get some sleep," I know she is correct, but I can't seem to make myself move. "They're gonna bring in a cot for me, and I know you don't want to Sutton, but getting cleaned up and changed will make you feel better. We'll still be here when you get back."
"Maybe you're right."
“Of course, I’m right.” I smile up at her, and her strength inspires me. Here I am, acting like my world is falling apart, and she seems so put togethe
r. "Maybe you and Lexi can bring me a coffee and one of those cinnamon rolls you girls make."
"That's Jillian," the master of baking; she can make anything. I already have it in my mind to text her when I leave. I'll spend hours until I have the perfect cinnamon roll if I have to.
I stand, stretch, and after giving my mom another hug, I leave the room feeling a little more lost with each step I take.
I pause just inside the doors and text Jilly asking her to send me the recipe for her yumminess. When she replies, I'll be at your place by seven; I can't help but smile. Honestly, I have the most incredible friends. I never have to ask them for anything; they are always there no matter what.
Stepping outside, I shiver from the breeze that had not been present earlier and grab my mom’s keys from my purse.
"Hey, pretty girl.” I jump and screech as I step back toward the entrance. With my hand on my chest, I look up to find Brantley standing only a few feet away. He must have been sitting on the bench hidden in the shadows of the awning that cover the front entrance.
"You scared the hell out of me," my heart is still racing at an unbelievable speed.
"Sorry," he steps closer, and I shiver. Immediately he pulls off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. Instantly I'm surrounded by his scent. The perfect blend of something woodsy and spice. "I didn't mean to scare you."
I stare up at him, my heartbeat finally starting to return to normal. It's been weeks since I've been this close to him. Instantly I'm reminded of my attraction to him, like a magnetic pull that I can't seem to resist. Placing my hand on his chest, I notice how he inhales deeply as my touch alone affects him in a big way.
"What are you doing here?" Not that I'm complaining, but I have to know.
"I wanted to come when I heard it happened."
"Why didn't you?"
"You know why," and I do. But I don't understand it. Why does this have to be so complicated? Bennett and I are friends; we've only ever been friends. There shouldn't be a problem if Brantley and I choose to explore our attraction or not. It shouldn't be an issue.
