Page 34 of No Place Like Home
Maybe Mama D had a point.
He swallowed. Maybe Amber did too.
seven
Working with this knee limitation was almost like having to learn aerial all over again. Sweat beaded on Rosalyn’s forehead and dripped down her temples.
As the late afternoon sun crept across the dance studio floor, she carefully lowered herself into a fist to angel drop, an upside-down move she’d flown into without hesitation hundreds of times. But discovering which moves pulled her knee was slow going. She’d have to design her circus routine around the skills she could do confidently—which meant she’d be offering a lower caliber than her typical performance.
All the more reason why she didn’t need Cade or anyone else in town talking her up and setting unrealistic expectations.
How could she save the town if she couldn’t even save herself?
Rosalyn swallowed as she repositioned herself into a French climb, wrapping one foot around the fabric and then releasing and repeating as she gained air. The earlier conversations spun through her mind, also gaining traction.
Why hadn’t Cade wanted her to know he’d seen her perform? He’d changed subjects faster than—well, as Lettie used to say—“faster than a stage mom braiding a ponytail.”
And then the discussion about the old bet he’d never followed through with. Her cheeks heated. They’d definitely been flirting, which wasn’t fair to either of them. Harper’s invitation to stay at the library a while had been a rescue. The more Rosalyn hung out with Cade, the more she forgot all her reasonsnotto flirt with him.
But he wasn’t safe, and she wasn’t free.
Rosalyn twisted her hands into the silks, pausing to rest her knee. She and Harper had chatted for half an hour, filling each other in on the last decade. Apparently, Amber and the other girl in their group, Gabby, had gone separate ways after graduating and never returned to Magnolia Bay. Harper, who’d moved back after graduating, kept up with them on social media, unlike Rosalyn.
“We comment on each other’s posts now and then,” Harper had said. “That’s about it. Amber is single. Has several degrees and alotof cats. Works remotely for a big firm out of New York.”
“What about Gabby?” Rosalyn almost hated to ask. Gabby had been sweet, if not a little ditzy, blindly following Amber’s lead. But hadn’t they all, to some extent?
“She’s divorced, two kids.” Harper’s lips twisted to the side. “Works in marketing in New Orleans and has become something of a social media influencer.”
Of the four of them, only Rosalyn and Harper were living their original high school dreams—Harper as an aspiring novelist, working around books all day, and Rosalyn as an international performer.
Yet had any of them actually found happiness?
“Careful up there darlin’. You don’t actually have wings, you know.”
Rosalyn looked down at Lettie standing underneath her, hands propped on her ample hips. “Oh, I know, trust me.” Her knee twinged on cue, as if reminding her of her fall. Not that she ever forgot. She slid down the silks to the ground, fireman-style, and was met with a wave of patchouli.
Lettie wrapped her in a hug as soon as Rosalyn’s feet touched the mats. “I’m just too glad you’re home.” Before Rosalyn could respond, the older woman abruptly released her and held her at arm’s length. “Even if your legs would make Carrie Underwood jealous.”
“You’ve got pretty great gams yourself, Lettie.” Rosalyn winked as she stepped back toward her fabric.
“Tell that to my ex-husband.” Lettie crossed her arms over her flowing tent-dress. “Not that’d he ever admit it. He can’t agree with any woman, mind you.”
Rosalyn tried to hide her smile as she wrapped her wrists into the silks. “His loss.”
“Indeed.” Lettie lifted her chin. “Any secret lovers in your life, hon?”
She snorted. Secrets, yes. Lovers? Not quite…She inverted into a candlestick position. “Now, Madame, you know I’m married to my career.” Literally, at this point.
Lettie let out a loud burst of laughter. “Pity. You’ll have to make room for someone eventually, darlin’. The stage won’t keep you content forever.” She released a dramatic sigh. “Ask me how I know.”
Rosalyn’s smile faded as she split her legs into a straddle. Her knee held steady, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re a gem. Any man—or the stage—would be lucky to have you.”
Lettie cackled. “You always were my favorite. Any chance of you sticking around this time? Maybe teaching aerial?”
That would’ve been her dream retirement, back in the day. To come home and open her own studio or take over for Madame Paulette? But now…She swallowed, gripping the silks tighter and splitting her legs the other direction. “Not this time, Lettie.”
Breathe in. Split.Breathe out. She used to hate conditioning skills when she was younger. She’d wanted to perform. Wanted to prove herself to her mom, wanted to show that leaving ballet had been the right decision. Now Rosalyn would give anything to avoid the spotlight.
