Page 51 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

I couldn’t get anything past her so, despite the rock lodged in my gut, I explained my reasoning and focused on my desire to take the stage again, if only for a night. Hopefully, she didn’t pick up on my skyrocketing anxiety when I talked about the performance.

I should’ve thought this through before talking to Lavinia,butI was in too deep to back out now.

This is what spontaneity gets me. A speech begging for something I’m not sure I even want.

Except the more I spoke, the more I started to believe what I was saying.

I wanted to prove I could do it.

I wanted to feel the exhilaration of dancing again.

I wanted one last show onmyterms, not the universe’s. That was one of the hardest things I had to accept—that my career had ended due to something as unpredictable as a car accident.

If I’d known, I would’ve better appreciated my last moments onstage. I would’ve had more closure.

“I see.” Lavinia leaned back and steepled her fingers. Her lips thinned into a slash of red against porcelain skin. At sixty, she possessed a better complexion than most women my age. “You’ve worked here for four years, Scarlett. You know I believe rules exist for a reason and that willful disregard for said rules leads to disorder. I despise disorder.”

The rock in my gut expanded, dragging my heart and hopes to the ground. “I understand.”

I should’ve checked the audition deadline before I wasted her time. I’d been so afraid I would lose my nerve if I waited that I’d barged in and made a fool of myself instead.

I resisted the urge to slide down in my seat and hide.

“That being said, I’m aware yours is a special circumstance,” Lavinia said. “You’ve been a valuable member of the RAB familyfor a while now. If we can’t provide a measure of flexibility for one of our own, then how can I expect loyalty in return?”

A tiny sprig of hope sprouted past my misgivings.

“I can’t promise you’ll be onstage. We’ve assigned all the roles already,” she said. The sprig wilted. “However…” The spring perked up again. “We still need an understudy for Yvette, who’s playing Lorena. If you’re interested, the position is yours. It’s not what you asked for, but it’s all I can offer—pending final approval from your doctor, of course.”

“Of course.”Fingers crossed Dr. Stein has good news for me.“I would love to be the understudy. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lavinia said dryly. “Let’s see if you feel the same way in a few months.”

Being an understudy was one of the most difficult jobs in ballet. They had to learn the choreography, the musicality, and every spot of the performance without stepping on the principal’s toes, figuratively speaking, and they were expected to do all thatwithoutthe promise of a turn in the spotlight.

Since the showcase was only one night, my chances of performing were low, but it felt good todosomething again.

A pinprick of excitement buzzed through me. I hadn’t shaken off my hang-ups about reentering the world of ballet, but it’d be nice to fall back into a headspace where anything was possible and nothing could stop me.

That wasn’t true anymore, but a girl could dream. Sometimes, dreams were all we had.

The rest of the afternoon flew by. My students must’ve picked up on my energy because several cast curious glances my way.

Emma was one of the few brave enough to ask me about it outright. “Did you have a good weekend, Miss DuBois?” Her eyes sparkled. “You look happy.”

“Instructors shouldn’t discuss their personal lives with students. It’s inappropriate,” I said sternly. Her face fell. “But since you asked…” My mouth twitched. “I got some good news this morning.”

Her smile returned to full wattage.

We had a quick chat about herNutrcackerrehearsals before I packed up and met Earl in front of the school.

My stomach fluttered during our drive to Asher’s house. He’d responded to my thank-you text with a simpleyou’re welcome.Other than that, we hadn’t talked since I snuck out Saturday morning.

Enough time had passed for me to pretend my, er, self-care session never happened. That was the only way I could look him in the eyes.

I was also oddly excited to tell him about the understudy role. He was the one who’d encouraged me to leave my comfort zone; he deserved to be the first to know.

Earl pulled into the circular driveway and opened my door. “Have a good session, Ms. DuBois.”

---