Page 34 of The Way We Touch
I’m embarrassed I said that out loud. “This is really special, I mean. I can’t believe you’d stop. I know how hard it is to give up a sport you love.”
“Funny you should say that. Nobody ever calls ballet a sport.”
“Are you kidding? Sure, it looks delicate, but you guys are working hard. I imagine you had to practice all the time. It’s a lot like what we do.”
She leans back, all teasing gone. “You’re an interesting man, Logan Murphy. I’m sorry I almost killed you.”
“I thought you didn’t.”
“You’re right, I take it back. You did that to yourself.”
I huff a laugh. “You should come with a warning, Dylan Bradford.”
“I’d say the same to you.”
Her eyes meet mine, and the temperature in the room shifts. We’ve both tipped our cards a little, and my heart beats faster.
Watching another man holding her, touching her, even a gay man, has my inner caveman coming alive. I want to claim her like she’s mine…
But she’s not mine.
Shaking these thoughts away, I nod at the laptop. “So what happened? I mean, unless it’s none of my business?”
I’m asking her these questions like I have a right to know her past, like I expect her to tell me. At the same time, I want to know everything about her.
“It’s okay.” She touches my arm, and my entire body lights. “It was special. Craig is my best friend, and he’s always been there to help me get back on my feet.”
“Were you hurt?”
A ghost of a smile is on her lips, and her teasing game isn’t as strong now. “Yes. Once again, all thanks to football.”
My brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
She closes the laptop again. “I was seventeen. It was senior year, Thanksgiving break. All the guys were home, and we thought it would be fun to play a family game in the backyard.” Her eyes drift away, past the device holding her history, now quiet on the bar. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault… Jack threw a pass, and I ran to catch it. The ground was uneven, and the guys are naturally competitive. I stepped in a hole, and a two-hundred-pound giant came down on top of me.”
“Fuck,” I hiss a sharp inhale. “You broke your leg?”
“My ankle and a bone in my foot.” She looks down at her foot on the chair. “It was a career-ending injury.”
“Shit.” I step back resting my hands on my head, and I remember what her brother said the first day we got here. “Garrett landed on you?”
“Zane, actually. He was a bit thicker when he was younger.”
“He must’ve felt like shit.” As much as I can’t imagine my career ending, I can’t imagine ending someone else’s—especially not someone I loved, someone so talented.
She nods, looking down. “It changed my life. I haven’t found anything I love as much since.”
I lower my arms, stepping forward. Now I really really want to pull her to me. Instead, I touch her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Forcing a smile, she looks up at me. “What do they say? Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened?”
“Does that make it better?”
“No.” Her gaze lowers to her lap, and I can’t hold back anymore.
I reach out and take her hand, and we both look down at my fingers wrapping around her slim ones. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay.” Her thumb slides across my skin. “There were times I wished I’d never danced at all. I wish I didn’t know how much I loved it, because then I wouldn’t know how painful it is not to have it.”