Page 107 of Dance for Me
Kids or not, this was her family. Braun’s family.
Their family.
She was home.
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Chapter Eighteen
Dawn shimmered over the horizon as the last car disappeared down the drive. Pearly pinks and the palest of purples merged in the sky among the soft gray, with blue beginning to peak through.
A good morning, still and quiet, with barely a breeze to disturb the peace.
Braun stood in the doorway to Avalon for a moment longer, listening to the birds sing their chorus. With the long night behind him—one of the best in his recollection—he was looking forward to the new day.
Every new day, he thought with a tired smile. What was there to not look forward to? His club was thriving, his lovely subbie was on the mend and would no doubt improve now they’d rekindled their sexual relationship, and he had hopes for a future with her that involved wedding rings and strollers.
Meeting Alicia had answered a lot of his questions about what Bodie had gone through—the girl certainly wasn’t afraid to share what went on behind closed doors. Unlike Bodie, Alicia seemed to realize the value of talking instead of repressing the bad shit in her life, and Braun was under the impression the strong, resilient girl would let nothing stand in the way of what she wanted in life...once she got a handle on what that was.
He stepped back inside and closed the door, walking into the club to gather his exhausted subbie and take her home to sleep the night off. She’d had a glass of wine or two—not much by most standards, but his Boadicea turned out to be a lightweight in the alcohol department.
Wine combined with an emotionally fraught evening and topped off with a dollop of whipped cream that was intense, implosive sex left him with a slightly tipsy, fatigued submissive in desperate need of a bed and ten hours’ sleep.
Only, he discovered, his subbie wasn’t where he’d left her.
Movement on stage caught his eye, and Braun swallowed sickly as his heart catapulted into his throat. What the fuck was she doing up there? She wasn’t supposed to be tackling steps by herself yet, her balance on those damn crutches wasn’t brilliant going up or down.
He moved closer, quietly. If she thought she would be a smartass and dance with her leg in a cast, he’d tan her backside before she went to bed. That is, if she didn’t land herself back in hospital beforehand.
Bodie stood in the middle of the space, braced on her crutches. Head tipped back to the ceiling while she faced the empty bar. Low light from the wall sconces barely kissed her face, but it was enough for him to see the turmoil written over her features.
Part peace, part distress.
She missed the stage. The dance.