Page 15 of Cruel Steps

CHAPTER

SIX

EMERSON

Dinner had been a miserable affair, but I’d survived. Holden hadn’t shown, and I hated how much I’d deflated at his absence. Despite how much it hurt to see his hatred, I still wanted to stare at him from across the table.

Okay, yeah, in retrospect, it was good he wasn’t there.

Hope would sniff out my infatuation like a bloodhound and make things more hellish than they were. Which didn’t seem possible considering my current state, but I didn’t want to test that theory.

After dinner, I retreated to my new room and spent the evening lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Riveting stuff.

The house had finally grown quiet, and I assumed everyone was in bed. Having people in the house was strange after being alone all summer. Now that it was late, I should be ready for bed, but anxious energy pumped through me instead. Since sex wasn’t an option to dispel it, I changed into my dance gear and headed to the studio in the basement.

My dad had hired someone to convert the room after Mom died, out of guilt. He hadn’t known how to talk about her death, and dance was the only way he knew how to help me. I’d been thankful for it, especially after the embarrassing dance team tryout freshman year, when Hope made it her mission to bully me. After that, I quit the competition team at Dance Expression, the studio where Hope and I met when we were four.

I continued solo lessons three days a week with Monsieur Owen, keeping my dancing dreams alive. Until senior year, when I grew uncomfortable with his lingering touches and invasive questions. Things had grown worse at school, and even the studio was no longer neutral territory. Hope had written messages on the mirrors and left roses in my locker, pretending to be my secret admirer, only to mock me.

Eventually, I told my dad I no longer wanted lessons and would dance at home. He’d been worried but had agreed, not wanting to rock the delicate balance we’d made. This studio was my last haven, and I wanted to use it as long as possible before she stole it, too.

Stretching at the barre, I pushed everything out of my head and focused on how my body felt. I’d been slacking all summer on my fitness, and the tightness in my muscles screamed at me. Apparently, wallowing wasn’t conducive to muscle retention.

Selecting a random playlist, I fell into the music and pushed my body to express all the emotions I’d been avoiding all summer. I didn’t know what steps I took, and if you asked me to repeat this dance, I wouldn’t be able to. My body went to that plane where it was in control, and I was just the spectator. An emotion I didn’t have words for emerged in the dance, and all the things I’d never say followed.

I spun. I leaped. I moved. I breathed.

My mind returned online as I slapped my hands on the floor when the song ended. Sweat dripped from my forehead, and my breath heaved out of me in big gulps, but there was no denying I felt lighter. Climbing to my feet, I groaned at the soreness in my body and how my legs shook as I cleaned up. Staring at myself in the mirror, I willed myself to remain this strong. To not give a shit about Hope and live my life.

It was nice to believe in myself, regardless if it only lasted a minute.

Turning out the light, I locked the studio and tucked the key back into its hiding spot above the door. I’d need to find a better solution later.

The house was quiet as I climbed the stairs, and I relaxed further, knowing I wouldn’t run into anyone. I only had to turn around once when I remembered my room was down the other hallway. Twenty-one years of muscle memory would take time to adjust to.

Tossing my sweaty clothes into the hamper, I turned on the shower and placed my toiletries inside. This bathroom wasn’t as grand as my original one, but it still had a walk-in shower with dual faucets and a rain showerhead. I didn’t often act like the rich kid I was—or had been—but I’d admit to being a bathroom snob. I wasn’t sure I’d survive without heated floors and towel racks. The horror!

Gratitude for my mom, who had ensured every bathroom in this house was top-notch, poured out of me as I waited for the water to heat. Laughing at myself, I stepped into the shower, but stopped when I heard a thump from the other side of the door. This bathroom was a Jack-and-Jill, connecting the two rooms in this hallway. I’d locked the door on my side but suddenly couldn’t remember if I had for the other door. When I didn’t hear another sound, I chalked it up to nerves and being on a different side of the house. There were new sounds to get used to.

Singing to myself, I swayed to the music in my head while I washed my hair and body. At dinner, Rose had told me a little about Hayward College and how she’d take me to campus tomorrow to enroll. I wasn’t thrilled about attending there, with both Hope and Holden, but since I hadn’t applied anywhere else or taken out personal loans, I needed to suck it up. I wasn’t smart enough for scholarships, and there was no way I’d qualify for financial aid, even with my father losing all our money.

I was stuck at Hayward for the semester—time to accept it.

Instead of moping like I’d done all summer, I’d spend the fall researching alternative solutions to return to Brighton U in the spring. Missing one semester wouldn’t be the end of the world, and I could still earn credits while avoiding Hope. I prayed she’d hold true to her promise and leave me alone. Surely she had better things to do now than torture me.

Determination arose in me as I shut off the shower, almost like the water had rinsed off the defeat that had coated me since returning home. I didn’t want to think about the coincidence of seeing Holden again and my newfound commitment.

He was just a guy. Nothing more.

Reaching for my towel, I frowned when it wasn’t where I’d hung it. Stepping out of the shower, I squinted through the steam to see if it had fallen on the floor.

“You sure had me fooled.”

Shrieking, I jumped back and smacked my back into the doorknob. Doubling over, I fell to the floor and curled into the fetal position as pain raced up my back.

“Hope told me all about you, Emmy.” The way he said the nickname made me hate my name. Realizing Hope and Rose had used it earlier, I knew it was because they hadn’t earned the right to be that familiar with me, polluting it. Hearing Holden’s sneer made me wish no one would ever call me Emmy again.

“I don’t… know… what… you mean,” I panted out through the pain throbbing in my back. I glanced up, spotting him now that the steam had shifted. Holden leaned against the counter, my towel in his grip. I wanted to hate how hot he looked, but I couldn’t.

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