Page 3 of One Short Summer

My voice is quiet. “It’s time, Monica. I know this last year has been incredibly hard for you, and I don’t want to pretend to have even an ounce of a clue as to what you’ve been going through. Getting into a bad accident during the peak of your dance career was a hell of a bad luck, absolutely no doubt about that. But it’s been over a year. All of the professionals have said you’re good to dance again, that you didn’t sustain any long-term damage to your leg. I’ve given you as long as I could muster, but I think it’s time to get back into the game, and I want to help you.”

She shifts around, her hands squeezing the blanket, wringing it to death. Her gaze is still on me, but again, I’m not surprised. Monica is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, not to mention extremely stubborn, independent, and honest. Under normal circumstances, I’d also say she’s incredibly disciplined, seeing as she’s been a dancer most of her life, touring the world with her dance company.

When she first moved to our small town in California last year, she was a little spitfire, and everyone was convinced she’d be back on her feet in no time, especially her best friend, Charlie—who now also happens to be my future sister-in-law.

No one expected Monica to fall down a rabbit hole and get worse over time instead of better.

But it happened, and since I’ve been living with her, I had a front-row seat to that miserable show. Whether I wanted to or not.

I blow out a breath, knowing she won’t like what I’m about to tell her. “Charlie and I talked.”

That gets her attention, her eyes flaring open wider than before.

“You guys talk about me behind my back?” There’s a bite to her voice, and I hate I’m the reason for it.

“We’re worried about you, you know that. Charlie is your best friend, and we all hate seeing you like this. It’s like you’ve not only given up on your dance career—your dream—but your life too. You pull back a little more each day. You barely leave the house anymore. Since I don’t know what else to do, I’m going to take you with me. Maybe a change of scenery will help get you out of this funk.”

Monica harrumphs and crosses her arms in front of her chest but doesn’t say a word. Apparently, that’s all she’s willing to give me right now.

Fine. There was more I wanted to say anyway.

“There’s a gym at the Tahoe house too, so you can continue working out since that’s the only thing you still seem to do. One of my friends up there has a yoga studio, so you can take some classes. I know you’ve been enjoying those here. I’m sure you don’t like it that we’re butting into your business, but we only want to help.”

Her shoulders move up and down.

Once. Twice.

When the frown on her forehead begins to smoothen out, a surge of hope rushes through my system. I give Monica a moment, allowing her to work through this in her head without me pushing her—which is somethingshedoes on a regular basis. The last thing I want is to start a fight. That’s not what any of this is about, and I hope she understands that.

Monica is my friend, and I want what’s best for her. Even though I didn’t know her when she was still actively dancing, I have to agree with Charlie’s comparison of Monica acting like a fish out of water. She’s aimlessly flopping around, not sure what to do with herself, all while slowly withering away.

I can’t watch her do that any longer. I just can’t. It’s starting to affect everyone around her, and I’m done with sitting on the sidelines and watching her destroy her life even more.

It’s just not in my nature.

“All right. I’m coming with you.” Her voice sounds almost normal, and when our gazes meet, I’m surprised to see she doesn’t seem upset about it anymore.

If I’m honest, I’m actually a little taken aback she gave in so easily. I was expecting her to fight me tooth and nail, and then some.

Maybe we were wrong. Maybe she subconsciously wants help, and there really is a chance of saving her from herself. I’m clinging to that possibility because the alternative would suck big-time.

“Sounds good.” I plaster on a smile, and she gives me a small one in return. “Do you need any help packing?”

“Nope, I got it. Thank you.”

I nod, taking my victories when I can get them. I’m still shocked she actually said yes, and I’m not going to toy with that.

Getting up from the couch, I point my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to head out to see my grandma. Do you need anything before I leave?”

She simply shakes her head, making me nod again in reply.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later then.”

Holding up my hand, I wave a quick goodbye before I speed-walk out of the room. Better get out of here before she changes her mind.

***

Several hours later, my brother, Hudson, and I are in our grandmother’s backyard, walking back a few steps to admire our precious handiwork.

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