Page 48 of InfraRed

The woman waves her off. “I know you’re about to leave, but I wanted to see how you’re doing with auditions.”

Casey’s eyes drop, her hands wringing in front of her as she starts breathing faster. Her anxiety becomes a tangible force, filling the room to suffocating levels the moment the woman asks her questions.

Casey hasn’t gone on an audition since before her accident, and it doesn’t take a genius to know Krista, once again, sucked away what little joy her daughter had with her cruel words. After her accident, she lost a year to physical therapy and recuperating. Afterward, Jagger said she struggled to find a teacher willing to take her, and the rejection further cemented the venom Krista constantly spewed.

The thought of Casey losing something she loved—something she felt in her soul—was unfathomable to me. My need to see her dance—even if I wished they wore more clothes—was as strong as her need to dance. There was no way I was letting her lose that.

So, I did my research and found Larissa Dumond. The thirty-two-year-old woman had a beautiful career for a few years until she became guardian to her sister’s children after her sister died in a car accident. No longer able to travel or work endless hours, she opened her own studio where she could pass on her knowledge and remain connected to what she loved. She cares more that her dancers reach their potential than she cares about them becoming the next prima. If all they can become is a girl who dances because it makes them happy, then she’s satisfied.

I approached her and asked her to give Casey a chance. In exchange, I purchased a larger studio that came equipped withan auditorium and stage where they could put on exhibitions and showcases and be amostlysilent partner with funding.

The woman won my respect when she said she would only audition her.IfCasey showed potential, determination, and heart, then she would take her as a student.

Suffice it to say, she saw what I knew she would when JaggerconvincedCasey to try one more instructor he’d heard great things about.

But between her mother and the constant rejection before and after her accident, Casey’s confidence in her abilities plummeted, so this talk of auditions surprises me even if Casey’s reaction does not.

“I-um…” She twists her fingers together as her voice trembles. I want to grab her hands and force her eyes up. More often than not, her displays of confidence are forced and for show, but I’d rather that than when she withdraws into herself. “I haven’t gone to any.”

Larissa dips, meeting Casey’s gaze with a warm smile. “I didn’t think you would have, Casey. It’s only been a few days. I’m merely curious about what you’re considering. Remember, it can be any style as long as you expand your resume.”

Larissa knows the answer as well as I do. None. She’s trying to force Casey out of her shell. Wasted potential doesn’t sit well with the woman, but she’s privy to some of Casey’s history, so she’s been lenient. When Casey shakes her head, Larissa begins dictating a list.

I lose the conversation as the wheels in my mind turn. An idea forms. One I won’t mention because it might not be possible.

I’ve already mentally scheduled a few meetings in my head and made a list of people to call when Larissa leaves the room, leaving a slumped shouldered girl who looks on the verge oftears.

I grab her, pulling her to my chest. Her head falls against my chest as she wraps her arms around me. Defeat pours down her cheeks in rivulets, and she sniffles softly.

I don’t ask what’s wrong. I already know. Comforting and encouraging words don’t come because it’s not what she needs. For the moment, she just needs someone to hold her up, so that’s what I do.

After a few minutes, I grab her bag from the floor, and with her tucked against me, I lead her out. Larissa passes me a worried look as we make our way through the building to the exit. With a subtle shake of my head, I let her know she doesn’t need to do anything.

Casey will be okay because I’ll make sure of it.

Once outside, I usher her to my car. She hesitates, staring at the flashy car with her lips pulled between her teeth. “I’ll call an Uber,” she tells me, trying to pull away.

That’s not happening, and why I am here is at the forefront of my mind. There’s no way I’m allowing her to use public transportation of any kind until I figure out what the fuck Krista meant. “Get in the car, Case.”

“Graham, no. People might see.”

I place my hand on her neck, dipping the handful of inches I need to be eye level with her. “It’s not a request. We’ll draw far more attention if you force my hand.”

The people entering and exiting the dance studio whisper as they walk past us, and those on the sidewalk stare as they go by. It only takes her a second to decide with a curt nod as she turns toward the car.

After she’s inside, she looks at the seatbelts with confusion. Ichuckle, lean in, and strap her into the harness system. “Are they afraid you’ll be ejected?”

I frown, unintentionally allowing my mind to wander back to a time she scared the living shit out of me. As much as I admired her body and beauty Friday night, loving the beautiful ink that covered her gorgeous skin, it was not lost on me what they were covering.

She sees it, too, because her head ducks and her cheeks glow. I shut the door and take a deep breath, pushing the memories aside. It doesn’t work, but when I slide into the driver’s seat, I ensure my expression is neutral because I’m sure she doesn’t want to think about her accident, either.

The first few minutes of the drive are filled with awkward silence. Swirling thoughts filled with questions and frustration swirl in the air, licking over me as I wait for her to break the quiet. It almost becomes too much, but before I can tell her to spit it out, she speaks.

“What is this, Graham?” Her attention stays focused out the window as her soft voice dances around me.

“I thought it was obvious. I’m driving you home. I did this enough when you were younger, I thought you knew the routine by now.”

“You know what I mean.” My girl peeks through. Still soft and timid, but the fire I know is deep within her sparks, showing her irritation with me.