Page 18 of Shadow Dance

“Huh. Maybe she’s feeling better,” he muses, rubbing his chin. “I knew taking her with me on vacation would help.”

Staying away from cocaine is what helps, but I nod. “Probably.”

“Definitely.” His eyes sharpen as he looks at me. “She say anything?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “About anything.”

This is how most of our conversations go. Lots of nonsense, going in circles. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t trust me and is wary to say too much or if his brain is just too addled by the chemicals it’s swimming in.

“Not really,” I say. “We’re cool, but we don’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” he says, and I swear he looks relieved. He probably does love her, in his own fucked-up way, and it wouldn’t be good if she talked to me when she barely talks to him.

Maeve was right to send me out of the kitchen. I don’t need Cal thinking we’re friends.

“You guys been together a long time?” I ask, my curiosity winning out.

“Since she was fifteen,” he says. “And I was sixteen.”

I didn’t expect that. “Damn, okay.”

“She’s the kind of girl you don’t let go of, know what I mean? Quality.” He smirks, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Wifey material.”

“That’s what’s up.” There’s a loud thump, then a yell and more laughter from the living room. I glance at the door, but Cal’s preoccupied by something on his phone.

“Listen, what about that camera?” he asks, typing. “You gonna fix it up?”

“Yeah, I got what I need today,” I assure him. “I’ll set it up later, when everyone’s gone.”

There’s another thump in the living room. Cal looks up this time, frowning at the door as he pockets his phone. “Do that.” He yanks open the door, aiming a sharp look my way as he steps out. “Can’t trust people.”

Then why do you always have so many of them in your house?But I just nod. It’s pretty much all you can do with a guy like this. Agree, agree, agree.

Chapter 6

Maeve

The wall changes color as morning breaks. I stare sleepily at the play of light, wishing we’d remembered to close the blinds last night. But at least I slept. I’m grateful for that.

I’ve had a hard time sleeping the past few months. It’s not hard to see why. Worry over my ankle, uncertainty about my future in dance, feeling disconnected from everyone I love, the emotional roller coaster that my relationship has become. It’s no wonder I’m a mess. I feel stuck. For the first time in my life, I have no idea what the next step is.

I think that’s why I let myself go a little, why I experimented with Callum’s stash for a few months. I just wanted to feel somethinggoodagain. Needless to say, that backfired. Not only did the coke make me more anxious than ever, it annihilated my sleep schedule.

Stopping that was the first step, but I’ve been intentional about staying healthy in other ways, too, like paying attention to what I eat. Fresh air and sunshine. Staying home all day was driving me crazy, so I stopped working out in my room and started classes at that studio in Berkeley. It gives me some structure, makes me feel a little more in control.

Callum reaches for me, his hand sliding over my hip. “You awake?”

“Mm.” I keep my eyes closed, allowing him to kiss my neck, to do what we’ve done for years. There is no romance anymore, no thrill—justphysical release. For him, at least. I wonder if he notices I never come anymore.

“I love you,” he whispers after, his eyes soft. For a split-second it’s the old Callum. The one I fell hard and fast for when I was just a kid, back when I found his cocky asshole act cute.

Back when I thought that the constant making up and breaking up was normal. Sure, it was dramatic, but I’m a strong-willed person and so is he—of course we loved hard, blazing like comets, crazy in love, us against the world.

Back when the fact that we outlasted every other couple I knew felt like proof we were the real deal. I didn’t care what my parents said (they were clueless) or what my brothers said (they were overprotective hypocrites) or what my best friends said (they didn’t know Callum like I did, didn’t see the tender side he saved just for me). All I knew was that this boy was the only one who could set me on fire and then save me in one fell swoop, and I was addicted to the way he made me feel.

And when the cracks started to show after college, cracks I couldn’t ignore or repair, I’d been half of a whole for so long that I couldn’t imagine my life any other way.

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