Page 38 of Guarded Hearts
“You have nothing to worry about.” With Alyssa’s injury, Mia was right. A natural step back for us could happen without any drama. After Alyssa had implied she might take Ricky back, perhaps this was some kind of intervention from a higher power. So why did the thought make my chest constrict, like I couldn’t get a full breath?
“Taryn is here, taking care of Alyssa’s hospital bills. We’ll make sure she gets back to the tour safely with us. I need you to get back and supervise the Jazz situation.”
“I have to say goodbye.” I indicated Alyssa’s curtained room. No matter how conflicted my feelings were, I couldn’t leave without seeing her one more time.
“Do you think we’ve left her alone long enough?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure. The chasm between Alyssa and me had been widening since our car ride. My instinct was to find a way to close it, but I’d just promised Mia I wouldn’t.
Besides, if Alyssa was considering Ricky’s request, she didn’t feel for me what I was starting to feel for her. I still had enough control that I could reverse these feelings, grind them to a halt. The last thing I needed was to become some lovesick puppy begging for crumbs. If she wanted someone like Ricky, so be it. I’d stay out of the way.
Mia slipped back through the curtain, and I followed behind her, staying far from the bed, ready to leave again as soon as I’d said my goodbye.
Before I could say anything, Mia asked, “I know this is hard, and being injured sucks. But I am one hundred percent behind whatever you need to get back to full strength.”
A tear slid down Alyssa’s cheek, and she scooped it up without looking at either of us.
“Do you know who we should ask for the wedding dance?” Mia asked.
Alyssa raised her chin and avoided looking at me. Her resistance to meeting my gaze made my stomach flip. “Yeah,” she said. “I trust Amy the most. I can ask her.”
“That’s okay.” Mia waved her off. “You’ll need to coordinate physio with Emika, so I’ll talk to Amy. Are you okay to coach them through the routine? I can show Amy the original video so she knows what she’s getting into.”
Tears swam in Alyssa’s eyes, but no more fell. “Of course, yeah. I agreed to do it. I’ll see it through.”
I ground my teeth at the implication I was little more than a job. “I have to get back. I hope you feel better.” I could barely get the words out.
“Thanks,” she said, but she still didn’t look up.
Frustration ate at me. I clenched my jaw to keep all the words I wanted to say from spilling out. From the minute she’d mentioned Ricky in the car, I’d been on edge, and her indifference was eating holes in my self-confidence. Perhaps she really didn’t care for me at all.
“Let’s take a few days off from rehearsing, okay? Maybe two or three while we get organized with new people and schedules.” Mia lookedbetween us. “I think the routine is in good shape with how much time we have left.”
“Fine,” I said, parting the curtains to leave. If I didn’t escape now, I would say something to Alyssa, give us away to Mia, create a storm none of us needed. Right now, I had to focus on Jazz’s drug test, getting her off the tour without incident.
Then, I needed to lock down my feelings.
Chapter Sixteen
Alyssa
Ihated his silence. From my chair on the sidelines, I watched Amy and Pasha whirl around the room.
“Stop.” I paused the music. “That hand change wasn’t right.” I demonstrated with my hand in the air how Pasha’s hand needed to rotate.
He focused on my hand, and he nodded, turning back to Amy. Didn’t speak a word. He hadn’t said more than a few words to me in almost a week. I’d tried to see him a few times, but he was always busy—on his way somewhere else, meeting with someone else, and the one time I’d caught him alone in a hallway, he’d stonewalled me. Said it was best if we each focused on our own things—dancing and resting.
When I’d started to protest, he’d been called away. Rather than make a scene, which wasn’t what either of us wanted, I figured I could corner him during a dance session.
But he arrived at our sessions at the last minute and left before Amy and me—always. With my crutches, I couldn’t chase after him. Wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore.
Before my accident, we’d been getting along so well I’d started to wonder if our relationship really had to end with the wedding. I’d wondered whether our budding feelings might be sustainable.
I didn’t have to wonder anymore.
Every day, my anger built, at him, at my stupid ankle, even at Amy for agreeing to help and being so professional. She’d double-checked with me before agreeing to help Pasha, and that small act had softened my resentment.
Even still, I wanted to explode in rage—mostly at him. I’d fallen on stage, and my perfect little bubble with Pasha had popped. But I couldn’t figure out exactly what the pinprick had been. He’d gone silent in the hospital, and the silence had increased, lengthened, stretched to an unbearable tension.
