Shall We Dance?

by Shelley Shepard Gray

She opened one eye. “Dylan? What’s going on?”

  “Moving you to a bed. Go back to sleep, everything’s okay.” When Jennifer’s eyes drifted closed again, he looked at Shannon. “She’s good. Lead the way.” Shannon led him down the narrow hallway and opened the door.

  Seconds later, Jennifer was on her side with a thick, soft blanket tucked around her body. Her shoes were off and she was still sound asleep. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon. The night had really done a number on her.

  Motioning to Shannon, he walked back out of the room.

  She closed the door behind her.

  “Where will you sleep?” he asked as they started down the stairs.

  “With one of my sisters.”

  “They won’t mind?”

  “No.” She smiled softly at him when they reached the main floor entryway. “Dylan, you’re giving new meaning to the phrase ‘protective older brother’.”

  “You might be right.” He sighed. “All right, then. I guess I’ll go.” He pulled on his jacket and knit hat, double-checking that he had his keys and his phone with him.

  “Be careful driving home.”

  He smiled at her. “I might be a worried older brother but you’re kind of turning into a worried dance teacher.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe we all worry about people we care about.”

  Her answer hit close to home. The truth was that he did care about Shannon . . . and he was glad she cared about him, too.

  Somewhere in between football bets and this moment, something had changed. There was something real between them now. Something that he couldn’t wait to explore further.

  Reaching out, he took hold of the tips of her fingers. “Thanks again. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Good night, Dylan,” she replied softly. Then turned and closed the door behind her.

  He waited almost a full minute before he got back into his car. For some reason, even though it was cold and snowy, he felt warmer than he had in a long time.

  Maybe even years.

  CHAPTER 19

  “It’s not about the shoes.

  It’s what you do in them.”

  —Michael Jordan

  The sound of her phone ringing woke Jennifer up. It actually wasn’t a ring, it was a tinny version of Pharrell Williams’s “Happy.” A few months ago she decided to try to make everything in her life a little bit more optimistic.

  As she listened to the familiar, peppy beat, she blinked and reached for her phone but drew up short when there wasn’t a phone on her bedside table.

  Or even a bedside table.

  Jarred awake, she sat up abruptly and tried to get her bearings. When she saw a series of framed prints of dancers in various poses with inspirational phrases above them, she exhaled.

  She was at the dance studio. Luckily, she remembered the girls sharing how their bedrooms were on the top floor and that they lived a bit like they were in a college dorm.

  By the looks of things, she was in Shannon’s room.

  Then, like a sledgehammer, the previous night’s events hit her hard. The snow, the unlocked car. The envelope. The note inside. The way she’d fallen asleep on the couch and had been vaguely aware of Dylan carrying her to Shannon’s room. The realization that the nightmare she’d thought was over was instead alive and well. Finally, the tears and the feeling that she was as helpless as ever. Always a victim.

  That feeling was so harsh and acidic, her stomach clenched. She surged to her feet, afraid she was going to lose the contents of her stomach on Shannon’s bed.

  Realizing how close she was to dissolving into tears yet again, Jennifer clenched her hands.

  She had to get it together. Had to.

  She’d just gotten stronger. There was no way she was going back to that dark place. It was ugly and filled with dangerous thoughts.

  She’d lost so much because of the attack. So had her parents. So had Dylan. They’d all lost the shine on the world and the thought that darkness would never touch them. Now she realized that not only was she not ready to go back to that place, she wasn’t ready to take her family there, either.

  She made a decision. Slipping her shoes back on, she decided that now she was going to have to face whatever happened next head-on. This was going to be the last time she hid from the world and dissolved into despair.

  After splashing cold water on her face and swishing a bit of toothpaste around her teeth with a finger, Jennifer picked up her purse, which someone must have brought into Shannon’s room, then made her way downstairs at last.

  Her steps slowed when she saw that Shannon was sitting at her pretty desk near the entrance. She was wearing buff-colored leggings, an ivory fisherman’s sweater, and dark-brown designer boots, the kind that Jennifer had only ever seen in a magazine before. Her hair was perfectly styled, and she had on light makeup. In short, she looked polished and pretty, while Jennifer had swollen eyes, kinky hair, and was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

  But, no matter, it was time to move forward. “Hi, Shannon.”

  She looked up and smiled. “Hey. You’re up.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I not only took over your room, you weren’t even able to get in there to get your clothes.”

  Shannon shook her head. “I’m so much shorter than Traci and Kimber, I’d drown in their clothes. I actually tip-toed into my bedroom about an hour ago and grabbed something of my own.”

  That was a surprise. Usually, the slightest noise woke her up. “Boy, I must have been really sleeping hard.”

  “I think you were, which is a good thing, right?” She smiled kindly as she got to her feet. “How about a cup of coffee? And don’t say no. I promise, it’s great,” she continued in that light, chatty manner. “Kimber, Traci, and I might not be able to cook worth a darn, but all three of us are practically baristas.”

  Shannon looked so sincere, Jennifer couldn’t help but take her up on the offer. “Thanks.”

  Looking pleased, Shannon clicked a couple of buttons on the thin computer on her desk. “Come on back upstairs. I don’t know if you saw it, but our little kitchenette is at the far end of the hall.”

  As Jennifer climbed the stairs again, she said, “This is sure an interesting situation. Do you like living together?”

  “Oh, yes. Well, I mean, I do. But it’s new. I’m pretty sure you know about our situation, right?”

  “Your situation?”

  “About how I only just found out about Kimber and Traci a couple of months ago? I grew up as an only child, you see.”

  “Wow. That’s, um, really something.”

  “I know! And please, you don’t need to try to act like you’re not shocked. My sisters and I haven’t mastered that, have we, Kimber?” she asked as they walked into a really cute kitchen dec­orated all in white.

  Traci wasn’t around, but Kimber was sitting at a small bistro table eating two oranges and sipping black coffee. “Good morning,” she said. “How are you doing, Jennifer?”

  “I’m okay.” Not eager to start talking about last night’s events, she said, “Uh, Shannon was just telling me about how you guys just discovered each other.”

  Kimber nodded. “Amazing how life happens when you least expect it.”

  “You’re right. I guess change can be good, though.”

  “This change has been very good, though every once in a while I wake up feeling confused. Bridgeport, Ohio, is a big change from New York City.”

  “I bet.”

  Shannon pulled out a pair of mugs. “We came for coffee.”

  “You’re in luck. I just made a fresh pot.”

  “How do you take your coffee?” Shannon asked, still playing hostess.

  “Cream and sugar, please,” Jennifer said.

  Shannon winked. “A girl after my own he
art.” After she added a generous amount of both, she placed the cup in front of Jennifer.

  Jennifer took an experimental sip, sighed in appreciation, and then took another drink. Shannon hadn’t lied. They might not be able to cook worth a darn, but they could sure make a mean cup of coffee.

  Shannon, who was holding her own mug with two hands, smiled over the brim. “I told you. We’ve got a way with caffeine.”

  “This is great.”

  “We use really good beans and spoonfuls of cinnamon and cocoa,” Kimber said. “They add just enough extra flavor to make things better.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Kimber stretched out her long legs. “Just come over more often, girl. Anytime you want, I’ll be glad to share my coffee with you.”

  Jennifer smiled and leaned back in her chair. It was amazing how much she was starting to relax. Here, in less than twenty minutes, she’d gone from embarrassed and scared to actually imagining sitting with these women again one day soon.

  As if she sensed what Jennifer was thinking, Shannon said, “So, are you doing better now?”

  “Honestly? Yes. And what’s sad is that I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.”

  “I don’t think that’s sad at all. What’s happened to you would freak anyone out, honey,” Kimber said.

  Hesitantly, she said, “I don’t know what Dylan shared, but I was pretty freaked out for years after my attack. Last night, when I saw that note? Well, it sent me back to that place. I really didn’t want to return there, either.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Shannon said. “Not for going through such a dark time or being afraid to go back to that place.”

  “I don’t know if this will help, but I have realized that going through bad stuff doesn’t necessarily make things better . . . but it is inevitable,” Kimber added. “All you can do is get through it.”

  “I’m trying.” Jennifer took another fortifying sip, then added, “Actually, that’s what I decided when I got up. I am going to try to do my best to not think the worst. My brother is a great cop, and the men and women on his team are, too. They’ll figure this out.”

  “Good for you,” Shannon said. “I know Traci was eager to help him when she left on her shift this morning.”

  “I wish I could do more to help.”

  “I think the best thing you can do is continue to get better,” Shannon said.

  “That’s what I am going to do.” Making up her mind, Jennifer said, “This probably sounds like nothing to you both, but I’m going to do my best to summon my nerve and go back to Backdoor Books.”

  “What’s that?” Kimber asked.

  “An amazing bookstore. It has everything you can imagine inside.” Hearing her words, she smiled. “I mean, as far as books go.”

  Shannon raised her eyebrows. “You must really like books.”

  “I do. Well, I really like cookbooks. But it’s more than that. There was the nicest lady there who owns the place. She serves coffee and tea in china teacups and never acts like you’re imposing if you take your time looking around. And then there’s her son.”

  “She’s got a little boy?” Shannon smiled.

  “Oh, no. He’s our age. And he’s so . . .” Jennifer caught herself just in time. Boy, she couldn’t believe she almost started fangirling on that guy.

  Kimber’s light brown eyes sparkled as she leaned forward. “Come on. Don’t stop now. Her son is so . . . what? Cute? Hot?” She smiled. “Amazing?”

  Maybe embarrassment was overrated. “He’s so . . . dreamy,” she corrected. “His name is Jack.”

  “Jack’s a good name,” Shannon said.

  “I thought so, too.”

  “When are you going to go back to this place?” Kimber asked. “I want to see him.”

  Shannon chuckled. “You can’t go over there to ogle the owner’s son.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “I’m not even sure he’s going to be there. He doesn’t work for his mom. He’s a contractor.”

  “Oh, a manly man.” Kimber playfully waved a hand in front of her face. “He’s sounding better and better.”

  “Kimber, you are too much,” Shannon said.

  “Honey, if you’ve seen all the pretty boys that I have on these modeling shoots, you’d be excited to be around men who don’t mind working for a living. Don’t underestimate a handy man.”

  “Noted.”

  Jennifer was enjoying the sisters’ teasing and their silly conversation. She really was. But as she looked at the two women—petite Shannon, with her dancer’s figure and sweet personality, and Kimber, so glamorous and so gorgeous—her insecurities caught hold of her tight again.

  Even though she didn’t have a relationship with Jack, there was still a part of her that didn’t want him to catch sight of these women. How could she not pale next to them? She had an extra twenty pounds, a scar on her cheek. Oh, and had a dozen hang-ups.

  “So, want to go over there today?”

  “Today?”

  “Sure? Why not? I don’t have a class scheduled until two o’clock, and the roads are fine. It would be nice to get out.”

  “I can do anything. My time is my own right now,” Kimber said. “I’d love to check out this place. I’m a huge reader.”

  “That’s really nice of both of you.” Really nice, especially since she’d pretty much ruined their evening last night.

  “We want to go,” Shannon said as her voice gentled. “Hey, I know you’re probably still shaken up from that note, but it might do you good to get your mind off of it.”

  Shannon had a good point. She also realized that she wanted to be around these women some more. They were so nice, they made her feel like she didn’t have to be alone anymore. Somehow, their friendliness was making her even feel like she could live her life even if things were happening that were out of her control.

  “That would be nice.”

  “Sure it would,” Kimber said.

  Just as she started thinking about how much fun that would be, she looked down at herself. She had on yesterday’s clothes. She’d slept in them, too. Plus, there was no telling what her hair and face looked like. Her eyes felt gritty since she’d slept in her contacts. “I can’t go over there until I get cleaned up at home.”

  Kimber nodded like that made perfect sense. “How about you go home and get ready, and then we’ll run by your house and pick you up in an hour? Is that enough time?”

  “More than enough.”

  Kimber looked at her sister. “What about you, Shannon?”

  “I can leave in an hour, no prob. Jennifer, we have a plan.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  After saying goodbye, she walked out to her car and got in without a bit of fear. She really was doing better.

  She was making friends, they were going to pick her up at her house and then all go to the bookstore not twelve hours after she had been sure she wasn’t going to be able to leave the safety of a locked and alarmed house for days.

  Six months ago, she wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible. God was so good.

  CHAPTER 20

  “If you stumble, make it part of your dance.”

  You’re doing WHAT?

  Dylan had texted her three times that morning. The first time Shannon had gotten a message from him, she’d felt a little thrill, loving the idea that she was on his mind. He’d certainly been on her’s. Dancing with him last night had been so special. It had been everything she’d ever dreamed about back when she’d first started ballroom dancing lessons in high school. Back then, she’d been sure that one day she would get to have the thrill of twirling around in a handsome man’s arms. Unfortunately, that hope had faded when she’d come to realize that competitive ballroom dancing was anything but romantic. It had been stressful and exhausting.
The pleasure she’d gotten from the sport had been because she and her partner had scored well or won a trophy . . . not because she’d been swept away in his arms.

  But now, as she continued to receive Dylan’s texts, it was becoming obvious that her warm thoughts had been one-sided. The reality was that Dylan was simply worried about his sister.

  Of course. Anyone would be.

  She’d texted him right back, relaying that Jennifer was still asleep but that she’d let him know when she got up. That text was followed by a quick message that said Jennifer seemed to be doing okay and that she was drinking coffee.

  But as soon as she conveyed their new mission—to get Jennifer back out and about—she’d received the text she was currently staring at.

  Her finger hovered over her phone’s screen, debating how to respond. She didn’t want to make him nervous, but she also didn’t want to betray Jennifer. Not that Jennifer had asked her to keep a secret or anything . . . but Shannon was fairly certain that there was a girl code to follow, even when one was almost thirty. That code included not tattling to a girl’s older brother about plans he might not agree with.

  She decided to reply back with something simple.

  Don’t worry. Kimber and I will go with.

  He replied back immediately.

  That is supposed to make me feel better?

  Absolutely. She went home to change. We’re picking her up in 45.

  You’re going to my house?

  She smiled. They might be both worried about Jennifer’s health and emotional stability, but she couldn’t deny that there was something kind of playful in their exchange. Especially since he seemed a little alarmed by her seeing his house without him there.

  Taking a chance, she texted something a little more flirty.

  I hope you picked up your underwear off the floor.

  The moment she pressed send, she bit her lip. Maybe that didn’t sound flirty at all. Maybe it was more in creepy territory.

  Thirty seconds later, he texted back.

  Does that mean you’re going to inspect my bedroom?

  Okay. He didn’t sound mad. Grinning, she wrote back.