Page 94 of Cruel Steps

“I shoved it into the trunk. When I did, a note fell out. It said, ‘You’re welcome, Princess. It’s your time to shine.’ I think I knew then it wasn’t Hope, but I needed to confront her to know for sure.” I blew out a breath. “Hope and I met at Dance Expressions Dance Studio. We leveled up together, advancing from each class to the next. Once we reached Elites, we had a new dance instructor. He’d just come from Broadway and had worked with several big choreographers in music videos. Everyone was so excited to have him that the studio offered private lessons, in addition to the competitive dance group. When I turned sixteen, I decided to step back from competitions. The bullying had become too much, and being around Hope at school and dance was overwhelming. Monsieur Owen didn’t want to lose me, so he convinced me to take private lessons.”

Lifting my head, I met Holden and Colter’s eyes. They were both quiet, their gazes locked on me with an intensity I didn’t understand. Shifting, I ran my palms over my thighs and crossed my legs in the opposite direction.

“Roses and notes appeared in my junior year. At first, I naively believed I had a secret admirer. Someone who saw me past all the bullying. But then Princess’ started appearing on the cards, and I knew it was Hope. She called me Princess Muppet at the studio, or Muppet for short.” I shrugged, fighting to keep my eyes on theirs. I didn’t want to hide in shame.

“This went on for a year, and I was to the point of quitting from her torture. I often stayed late to practice, finding it easier to avoid Hope and the bullies. This one particular night, Monsieur Owen came into my studio. He gave me critiques, but when I didn’t get it, he stepped in behind me. It wasn’t the first time he’d moved my body to show me something, but this time… it felt different.” I blew out a breath. “He touched me in ways that were more sexual, and when I told him to stop, he didn’t. I tried to get away, but he pushed me against the mirror and told me he knew I wanted him to. That we could be together, we just had to be secretive. I kicked him in the balls and shoved him away just as Hope came into the studio. I’d never been so happy to see her, and that was saying something. For once, she didn’t look at me with disgust. She said something to him, giving me time to gather my stuff and leave. We walked out together, and neither of us said a word about it. I quit the studio and just danced at home. A few weeks later, Monsieur Owen was let go after allegations that he was too touchy with the girls were made. I never asked Hope, but I always felt she’d been the one to tell the owners.”

“What happened to that asshole?” Holden asked, the words practically a snarl.

“Last I heard, he was arrested and charged. Other reports came out, some going back years. They had more than enough evidence to lock him up.”

“How’s he connected?” Colter asked.

“I asked Hope about the roses and notes, and she denied sending them. She said she didn’t have money to waste on roses, and now that I think about it, it was too subtle for her. She always wanted an audience. I had it all wrong. The person responsible for leaving me roses and hitting Hope is Monsieur Owens. He’s back and won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Me.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY

EMERSON

Holden stood and opened his mouth, then shut it tightly. He balled his fists at his sides and paced the length of the small living room. The muscles in his arms were corded, and he looked seconds away from detonating.

He’d stop, open his mouth, snap it closed and resume his pacing. He did this a few times, never uttering any words, only motioning toward me with his hands like he was having a conversation in his head. Or wanted to strangle me. It could go either way.

Colter watched him, his brow deeply furrowed. When he turned to me, his face was devoid of its usual smile. “We need to go to the cops.”

I bit my lip. I knew he was right, but telling more people was horrifying. Holden finally stopped his pacing. There was no longer any gaping, only a glare and his arms crossed. Glancing between them, I took in their concerned gazes and sighed in defeat.

“I’ll call and see if they can come here.” Colter stood and pulled out his phone and stepped into the kitchen. Holden and I continued to stare at one another, the familiar electricity sizzling like a low-level current.

He strode forward with measured steps, allowing me to tell him to go away if I wanted. Or at least that was how I interpreted it. He took the spot Colter had vacated and turned his body toward me. His jaw twitched once before he attempted to gather himself. I could practically see the effort it was taking him not to touch me.

“The temptation to lock you in a room and make you stay there forever is strong.”

“Why?” I asked.

Holden growled. “Because then no one could harm you. You’d be safe.” He let out a deep breath. “I know I’m shit at showing it, but I do care about you, Em. So, I’m fighting my urges. But it’s not easy.”

“I don’t need you to fight for me,” I whispered. Deep down, that felt like a lie, but I wanted to seem strong in front of him, despite wanting nothing more than to let someone else handle this.

“I know you don’t, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to. The thought of you hurt makes me feel out of control, which I hate.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m taking it since you’re giving it to me. But I don’t want to ruin it on the first day. So I’m trying. I’ll give you space, but I need to know you’re safe, too. Promise me you won’t do anything where you’d put yourself in a vulnerable situation.”

I didn’t have to think about it. I wasn’t a hero. “I promise.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “Good. Thank you, Wildcat.”

I wanted to tell him to stop calling me that, but I was too greedy for the affection to speak up. Colter stepped back into the room and took the empty chair.

“They’re gonna send someone over. You should hand over the mascot head when they’re here.”

I nodded. It made sense. I had nothing to hide and could prove I was home. Thank you, surveillance footage.

The kitchen timer went off, startling us. I jumped up to turn it off and pulled out the dish. As I pulled back the lid, peppers and spices permeated the air while I stirred, and both men groaned.

“That smells delicious, Mer.” Colter smiled, and I was happy to see it back. They worked together to set the table, and the three of us sat down, our plates full of Mexican lasagna. I waited for them to take bites before I did so I could see their reactions. The moans of approval and eye rolls said everything.

“Holy shit, Mer. This is amazing.”

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