Page 28 of The Gamma's Second Chance

“She wasn’t. But I’m hopeful Wesley—or you—may be able to talk some sense into her?”

I huff out a laugh. “We can try, but you know how she is.”

“I do. That’s why I’m just asking you to try.”

I nod and press my lips together as Haven walks towards me, phone held out. “I’m ready to go,” she says with a sniffle.

“Your stuff?” I ask, glancing around for her bag even though I know it is either upstairs in her dressing room or backstage near the fly lines.

She nods, still sniffling, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I’ll go grab it.”

She turns, but I reach for her and pull her in for a quick hug, squeezing her. She wraps her arms around me and I feel her smile, even though it’s just a tiny smile and only for a short moment. “You’re still my favorite ballerina,” I say as I pull away.

“Thanks. You’re still my favorite gamma.”

“I’m your only gamma.”

“Exactly.” Haven laughs, then winks at me through her tears. “I’ll meet you and Cassandra in the parking lot.”

She leaves to gather her belongings, and Peter trails behind her, already yelling directions to the dancers remaining on the stage. And I turn my focus to Cassandra again.

At first glance, she looks fine. The same as always. A bright smile on her face, reclining in her seat, her green eyes observing everything. But upon closer examination, it’s clearshe’s struggling right now. Her smile is forced, her body is tense, and her green eyes are dull, their sparkle gone. The surface level image paints one picture, but what’s underneath tells a different story. She’s tired, or drained, but she doesn’t want anyone to know or ask her about it.

My instincts scream at me to ask her anyway, to set my bag down and pick her up instead, or at least take her hand in mine and soothe her with my touch. The desire to comfort her, to ensure she’s all right, is overwhelming, almost as strong as my urges to slap her cute butt when she’s being sassy or kiss her when she’s driving me crazy with her sparkling smiles and personality.

I bite my tongue, though. This isn’t the place or the time. She’ll either finally snap at me—which, I admit, I’d give anything to see, if only because she seems so infallible—or someone in the theater will hear, which will lead to more questions and suspicions, and our goal is to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Daisy?” is all I say instead. I pray she understands the meaning underneath my use of her new nickname, that she recognizes it’s out of concern for her and not me asking her if she’s ready to leave the theater.

She gives me a smile that looks more like a grimace and shoves her book into her bag before hooking her arm through the handles and rising from her seat. She swallows and closes her eyes for a second, hand gripping the back of the seat in front of her for balance as she sways on her feet. It’s almost imperceptible, except I’m much closer to her than I realized, on the verge of climbing over the seats to wrap my arms around her waist and hold her against my body so she doesn’t fall down.

Goddess, she’d look so good in my arms. The bright colors of her dress would stand out beautifully next to the muted, somber colors of my clothes—the gray of my shirt and the dark blue of my jeans. Her petite stature would fit perfectly against me, herhead tucked under my chin, my nose burying into the strands of her hair as I held her until she regained enough of her strength to walk to my truck on her own. And even then, I’d keep her hand in mine or place mine in the small of her back while guiding her to the parking lot, always at the ready should she need to lean on me.

But like every other time I’ve had the urge to treat her like something more than an unexpected, unwanted houseguest, I don’t act on it. Instead, I grip the strap of my brown leather bag that holds all my work supplies tighter, keeping my hands to myself. She’s not anything to me, and she can’t be anything to me. Not with my track record. Not when she’ll only be here for a short while.

I want her—Goddess, do I want her—but there’s too much at stake. My heart. Her heart. My job. She’d end up hurt or resenting me, or both. It’s inevitable.

Her jaw ticks as she grits her teeth and removes her hand from the back of the chair. “Let’s go home,” she says, heading down the row of seats without waiting to see if I follow.

And even though it shouldn’t, even though she didn’t mean it the way I want her to mean it, a little thrill of joy rushes through me at the sound of her voice referring to Crescent Lake as “home.”

Chapter 10

CASSANDRA

That was unexpected.

Not Haven’s aura itself. Her releasing it during her heightened emotions in the middle of rehearsal, when she found she could no longer perform a skill that is usually second nature for her? I expected that.

What I didn’t expect was the strength of the aura. Even feeling her aura during our drive to the city on my first day working with her and Nolan didn’t prepare me for the pure energy within it. The pulsing, rippling, dancing, silvery starlight that floated through the interior of the truck gave no hint of the depth of power it contains. I don’t think Haven—or any of the others—realizes the full capacity of the mystical, mysterious aura Selene gifted her with. I underestimated it as well.

And now I’m paying for it.

After we drop an emotional Haven off at the packhouse, Nolan heads straight home. He parks his truck in the driveway and is around the hood and opening my door before I even have my seatbelt unbuckled. I blink at him and his offered hand before slipping mine into it and letting him help me out of the vehicle. His skin is warm, and his touch gentle but firm as he guides me to the ground.

My hand lingers in his for longer than necessary, enjoying the feel of his skin against mine and the way my delicate, pale hand looks in his stronger, darker grasp. He gives my hand a subtle squeeze, then grabs my bag and his without saying a word to me, that blank, unreadable expression on his face as always, but I swear there is something similar to concern in his eyes.

Or maybe not. Because they’re empty and serious when he shuts the truck door and brushes past me and towards the house.

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