Page 67 of You're the Reason
She met his gaze. She’d planned on telling him she got the point, but he had shifted just enough for the light to catch his left eye and there was a raw vulnerability there. A questioning. No, not a questioning. A pleading.
He wasn’t just trying to make a point. He needed to know he was seen. That he wasn’t alone. That he could trust her with the darkest parts of who he was and she wouldn’t throw him away like his mom had.
Grace angled her shoulder into the seat so she was fully facing him. “You’re a protector. You’re a survivor. A helper. A problem solver. Someone who loves deeply but has a hard time letting himself be loved.”
He blinked a few times, then closed his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he drew a loud, long breath. He cleared his throat and half shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything about my job at Kensington Fruits. Sure, those things help me do my job. But if I change jobs, I’ll still be me. Right?”
“Right.”
“You are more than a ballerina.” He reached out and squeezed her hand, then quickly pulled back. “And if you changed jobs, you’d still be you. Kind. Graceful. Determined. Caring. Gentle.”
“I just can’t imagine a life without dance.” Or without the memory of his kiss that still lingered on her lips.
“Why do you love ballet?”
What kind of question was that? “Because I’m good at it.”
“But why do you dance?”
“I dance because I’m a dancer.” This was the same merry-go-round that she found herself on with Ms. Margret. Confusing and unhelpful.
Her frustration must have shown because he held up a calming hand. “Think about the last time you danced and it filled you with joy. Or the last time you were so excited to take the stage that it was like a current running through you.”
“I honestly can’t remember.”
“Do you want to quit?”
“I don’t think that’s an option.”
“Do you still love it?”
“I don’t know. Everything at my level is super competitive. Intense. Fighting for the best part.” She lifted her hands, then let them drop in her lap. “I’ve made a few friends in the process but a lot more frenemies. When it got hard before, I would remember that little girl on her first day of class at Ms. Margret’s, just proud of her pink tights and dancing with all heart and no skill. But the longer I’m in this, the harder it is to pull up that memory in my mind.”
“Do you think that’s why you love to teach?”
“I’m not sure I’d say I love it. Like it, definitely.”
“Are you kidding? You come alive when you teach. You’re practically glowing every time you finish a class. When that little girl with dark curly hair showed up the other day when we were training?—”
“Lucy.”
“Well, when Lucy showed up, you stopped everything to help her. You gave her an extra hour of private lessons, and I’m guessing you didn’t charge her.”
“She almost had her chaînés. She got it in the end.” Grace bit her lip, unable to keep from smiling again.
“See, you love it.”
“Their joy is contagious. You know, I was disappointed with what happened with the nonaudition, but I was also a little relieved. I wasn’t ready to end the class yet.”
“You should see if you could perform at the Fourth of July festival.”
“In less than two weeks?”
“It can’t hurt to ask.”
They dropped into silence again, Seth shifting in his seat. “I guess it’s my turn. Care to walk?”
“Sure.” It had been a warm day, but the air blowing off the lake had a bite to it. Grace pulled her jacket a little tighter as she stepped out into the brisk night.