Page 78 of When Hearts Awaken

The last vestiges of rational thought hammer in my brain, reining back the emotional impulse. I’m starting to understand why my parents are swept up in their feelings.

They burn and consume until common sense ceases to matter.

I can’t become like them.

Or maybe it’s already too late.

Chapter 33

I stare outside thewindow in the rehearsal room at the historic Estates Theater for our last performance in Prague in late November, barely paying attention to the moody scenery outside—wet cobblestone streets, streetlamps illuminated but barely making a dent in the dark night, gothic spires half-hidden by a blanket of fog as the chill sets in at night. My mind is filled with thoughts of what transpired in the last two weeks since the press conference.

Charles knocked on my hotel room door that night, his hair in disarray, his towering frame clad in a casual sweater and dark sweatpants. His cologne hit my nostrils, and I fought every urge to launch myself on him and snuggle in his warmth.

What’s wrong with me?

“Yes?” I eyed him, my pulse quickening.

He rested his arm on top of the doorframe and I fought a shiver at how manly he looked and how small I felt next to him.

“I want to apologize for the reporter’s questions.”

I fiddled with my T-shirt. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t the asshole. Why are you apologizing?”

Charles swallowed, his blue eyes darkening. “I know he brought back bad memories. My team should’ve vetted him better.” His voice was quiet, calm, but I saw a muscle twitching on his forehead.

Does he know what happened to me? Has he guessed everything?Panic rushed inside me. “I…Charles, it isn’t…I—”

“You don’t owe me any explanation. You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he murmured. His jaw worked, then he added, “Real men don’t force women into unwanted situations. But Taylor, I just want to tell you…if you ever need someone to talk to, someone to shoulder your burdens, I’m here. I’m strong. I can take your pain.”

A sad chuckle escaped his throat as he shook his head. “Despite what you may think of me, I care about you, and I meant what I said in Paris.” He looked up, his eyes intense. “You aren’t alone anymore,” he whispered.

His words burrowed deep into my heart, and part of me wanted to throw open the door to let him in, because damn it, I wanted to have normal relationships, to fall in love, have sex, to do all the things other women do without thinking.

But deep down, I was still terrified. I didn’t want to get hurt again. I’d gotten so used to the fear lurking inside me, I didn’t know how to be free of it. I thought I could separate physical pleasure from love. I thought I could try to have sex without being emotionally involved.

But it was impossible not to feel anything for him. I felt too damn much.

And so instead of telling him, I murmured, “Thank you.”

I moved to close the door, not missing the slump of his shoulders as he walked away.

“Charles.” My heart slammed into my throat. I wanted to be brave, for him, for myself, just for one second.

He paused and turned around, his eyes alert.

“If it could be anyone, it would be you,” I whispered before quickly shutting the door, not wanting to see his face or hear his response.

I blow out an exhale, watching my breath fog up the window in front of me, wondering if I made the wrong choice that night.

But it’s probably for the best. Charles is the nephew of my dance director, the best friend of my brothers. If things don’t work out between us, it’ll get ugly on multiple levels.

If I want to try having sex again, to reclaim my pleasure, maybe it’s better if I find someone harmless, unassuming, someone I don’t feel anything for.

It’s safer.

Plus, I haven’t seen the man very much these days. Charles has been busy with business meetings and events for the past two weeks, or perhaps he’s giving me the distance he senses I need. The only time I ever saw him was backstage in passing or I’d catch a glimpse of him in one of the private boxes during our performances.

Even through the distance, I’d feel his gaze on me, the intensity, the reassuring warmth.

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