Page 97 of When Hearts Awaken

My heart pounds as I reread the message, heat creeping up my face as uncertainty threatens to swallow me whole. I debated whether to text him about my feelings. I wanted to call him, but it felt too intimate…too vulnerable. Too foreign.

I’m used to making snarky comments and flinging out curse words, not laying my soul bare.

But in the last few months, away from family and close friends, outside of Lisa and the brief visit from Belle, Grace, Millie, and Olivia during Christmas, I’ve realized something.

For the last seven and a half years, I told myself I didn’t need anyone, that men were more trouble than they’re worth. I was doing fine on my own, and I was finally learning to accept myself—my version of Odette with my past and my present.

I told myself love was for suckers, and there were so many more rotten apples out there than good ones; it was better to depend on myself and frankly not eat apples at all. Carrots were better. Much better.

But with every bouquet of roses, every note card and text I receive from the man who hides his true self from the rest of the world, he has given me bravery—the last little bit to push me across the finish line.

I dream about his kisses and the rough scrape of his hands on my skin.

I think about his deep, raspy voice and the way he tells me my thorns are beautiful.

I invent imaginary arguments I can have with him when I see him again because our fights are our strange form of foreplay and our love language.

Step into the light with me, Taylor.His words are louder with each passing day, and my decision becomes stark clear.

I miss him, and I want to be in a relationship with him. Not just sex, but the real thing—emotions, my heart, all of it. I want to be vulnerable with him and tell him my darkest secrets, the pain I’ve silently endured for all these years.

So, I worked up the courage to text him yesterday and to tell him the first reason he’s special to me. Now, it has been over twenty hours of radio silence, and I’m trying to fight both the embarrassment and disappointment flooding me.

This is what you get for trying again,the damn Lochness Monster whispers.Haven’t you learned from your past?

Oh shut up, you. He’s a busy man!

“We’re all set. You look great!” Sally, the makeup artist, pats my shoulder. “Have you seen Maddy? I saw Carla talking to her earlier, but I need to redo her makeup. Is she okay?”

Her words shake me out from my thoughts, and I frown. “What do you mean?” Maddy has been quiet these days, and she said I was overly concerned about her when I asked. Ainsley thinks she’s homesick, which I don’t blame her.

Sally shrugs. “She was crying earlier. I need to fix her makeup.” She leans in. “I heard she came into some money recently. I thought she’d be happy. She wouldn’t need scholarships anymore. But I must be wrong.”

Unease prickles my insides. None of this makes sense. Ainsley or Maddy would’ve told me if some earth shattering change was happening, right? Why wouldn’t they tell me?

“Anyway, I’ll find her myself. Good luck, Tay. Last performance before we head back home! I can’t wait.” She grins.

“Right? I never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting sick of traveling. Craving a good hot dog about now.” I strain a smile, my mind still on the trainees who are like little sisters to me. I need to find them to figure out what’s going on.

Sir Ian waves me over. It’s showtime.

I close my eyes and channel my inner black swan. Seductive. Enticing the men around her.

Seducing the white swan’s true love.

Have you ever been in love?

Madame Renoir’s question from almost two years ago comes barreling in. But this time, my heart spasms, images of him flooding my mind.

I know how it feels now.

Use my emotions as a source of power for my dance. Channel them. Harness them into something greater.That was what Sir Ian told me. I didn’t understand before, but I do now.

The atmosphere inside the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg this cold February evening is electric—perhaps the crowd senses this will be a special performance, because it’s the last one before we head back. But the place seems incomplete, like the hollow in my chest.

I know it’s because I’ve been searching for that familiar blond hair in the audience, not seeing him.

I feel incomplete.

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