Page 3 of Fielder's Choice

Until I couldn’t.

That’s when I started seeing Corinne.

Without Corinne and the support of my family, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I’d still be a hollow shell of a human curled up in my bed, willing the pain to go away.

But the pain never does go away. It just numbs over time, allowing you to function as mostly normal when you learn how to manage it.

“It’s been… good,” I reply with a small smile. “I’m only working with one student right now because my mom doesn’t want to overwhelm me. But I absolutely adore the little girl I teach. She’s such a sweetheart. Her nanny brings her, and I really like her as well.”

“That’s wonderful!” Corinne claps her hands together, clearly happy to hear that I’m getting back to ballet. “Starting out small is a great idea. I can already see how being back in the studio is helping you.”

“You can?” I ask, tucking my deep brown waves behind my ear.

“I can. This is the most I’ve seen you smile, Olive. I’m so proud of you for taking that step.”

“Thank you. It’s actually been really nice to be back. I’ve been dancing a lot myself, and it feels so good to be into ballet again. I’m a bit rusty, but I didn’t lose it completely.”

“And have you been putting yourself out there? I know we discussed that.”

I let out a deep breath. “Um… not really. I don’t talk to anyone outside of my family or anyone at the studio. It’s just… hard.”

“I know it is,” Corinne replies sympathetically. “But forming connections with people will help as you heal. You don’t need to start with deep connections. Just connect. Say hello to someone you see on the street. Flirt with a cute guy at the coffee shop. Compliment somebody’s shoes. Start small and work your way up.”

“Right,” I mutter. “I… I’ll try. I will.”

“Wonderful. Now, why don’t you fill me in on what’s happened since I saw you last?”

Opening up during therapy takes a lot out of me, so I always treat myself afterward. Urban Grind is a cute, local coffee shop in SoHo, and they make a killer caramel latte.

As I wait for my drink at the end of the counter, I hear laughter behind me, and I instinctively turn around to see what’s going on.

Leaning against the wall about ten feet away are two tall men, both laughing with smiles on their faces. The one looks to be maybe five to six inches taller than me, with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses.

But it’s the other man that has my breath catch in my throat.

He’sgorgeous.

He’s at least a few inches taller than the man he’s with, with short, sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and defined muscles, clear even through the fabric of his New York Stars T-shirt. What really draws me in, though, is the damn side grin he’s sporting that I could only describe as cocky.

This is a man that gets what he wants, and he knows it.

Corinne’s words play through my head again.

Flirt with a cute guy at the coffee shop.

It’s a bit on the nose, but maybe that’s just fate.

Without giving myself time to second-guess this, I step closer to them. He doesn’t notice me, so I have to speak to grab his attention.

“Are you a Stars fan?” I ask.

Are you a Stars fan?

He’s in a Stars shirt, Olive. He’s obviously a Stars fan.

Honestly, the baseball on the logo is the only reason I don’t have to figure out which of our professional teams this is.

The cute guy looks my way, and I can see him give me an appreciative once-over before shooting that cocky side grin at me.

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