Page 53 of This Is Love
His eyes narrow. “I’ll be honest and say I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing and don’t know what exactly we are… but I don’t regret this.” He hesitates, searching my eyes. “Can’t regret you.” Glancing down for a second, he looks up at me with a cautious quirk to his lips.
I exhale hard at the meaning behind his words and lean in, brushing my mouth over his. For the first time, I feel like we might have a fighting chance.
“Are you asleep?”Jaxon breathes out, his voice low.
“No.”
“Can I ask you a question?” He rolls onto his side, facing me while propping himself up on his elbow.
I nod. “Yeah. Of course.” My brow furrows. His tone is strange, and it instantly has me paying attention. After a good thirty seconds of silence, I reach out, nudging his shoulder.
He exhales unsteadily. “Sorry. Um. Did you ever tell my dad when you found me?”
I rack my brain for what he’s referring to, but I’m not following. “What?”
Clearing his throat, he amends his initial question. “About that day you caught me in his office going through his safe.”
“Oh. That.” I find his eyes in the dark as they search mine. Shaking my head, I murmur, “No. I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I guess somewhere in the back of my head, I sorta knew why you were doing it.”
There’s a very obvious pause while he waits for me to elaborate, and when I don’t, he prods me for the information. “And what the hell did you think I was doing it for?”
I can make out one brow arching on his forehead, and I shrug. “Your mom. I didn’t think it was my business what went on with your mom and dad, but I got the sense things weren’t right. They had divorced, obviously, so there was that. But I dunno. I thought something was off. I don’t know what exactlygave me that impression. Whether it was just a gut feeling or something, I have no idea.”
“Well, you were right.”
“Jax, I didn’t want to stick my nose in your business.” I huff out a pained laugh. “You’d probably have bitten my head off if I had. But it doesn’t make sense to me that your mom is having financial difficulties. Eric must be paying alimony, right?”
“I wish I knew the specifics. I really do. Because she hardly gets anything. Asshole no doubt had one of his lawyer friends advise him on how to hide money so it wasn’t a factor in the divorce. We were able to make do for a while with what he sent for child support. But the second I was eighteen, that stopped, obviously.”
“And you’ve been trying to keep your heads above water ever since.”
“No.” Jaxon drags in an audible breath. “We’ve been drowning. Plain and simple. The money thing is bad enough, but Mom being devastated and drinking to hide from her pain is… nothing short of brutal. Then the alcohol fucks with diabetes. Some months, it’s all we can do to afford the treatment she needs. And because she’s not taking care of herself, she keeps landing in the hospital. We definitely don’t have the money for her to keep doing this.”
“It’s a vicious cycle.” I wince, feeling awful for the part my mother has unwittingly played in this. “I get it. And I’m so fucking sorry.”
26
RYA
These last two-and-a-halfweeks since I earned one of the coveted solo ballet performances in the spring showcase have gone by incredibly quickly. Of course, my anxious self has spent the time on edge, waiting for the other pointe shoe to drop. One can only be handed so much crap in a short period of time and not automatically expect for the hits to keep coming. Only they haven’t. It’s weird. And now I’m strangely annoyed that whoever had been messing with me has just… stopped. It’s left me messed up, my entire body a ball of nerves.
Using the smooth barre under my hand as an anchor, I try my damnedest to simply breathe. Focus. And forget everything that plagues my mind. Millie calls out our movements as we warm up. “Fondu. Extend through the foot. And side. And back. And again. Keep those hips level, ladies and gentlemen.” Unfortunately, as much as I try to pay attention to the movements of my body, my brain wants to dart off in other directions.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. I don’t know whether I can trust this quiet and calm, but there’s nothing for me to do but accept it while it lasts. In fact, Ineedit to remain like this for myperformance this weekend. I’ve been taking on extra rehearsal hours needed to prepare for the showcase. Hazel and I have been grabbing back-to-back slots in the studio so we can share and get in as many repetitions of our choreography as possible.
I draw in a breath, continuing to follow Millie’s count and instructions as we work through frappés. From Hazel’s place at the barre in front of me, she whispers, “How are you feeling now that we’re”—she makes a scared face at me—“only like three days out?”
I wet my lips, breathing through the regimented but fluid sequence of movements. Keeping my voice low, I murmur, “I think I’m good, honestly. We’ve got time to run through the choreo and perfect it. Your jazz routine is looking good. Are you feeling like it’s where you want it?”
“Oh, I’m good.” She turns to look over her shoulder at me, wrinkling her nose with a shrug. “I’ll just get out there and do what I know how to do and that’s… all I can do, right?”
I smile, not quite feeling it as I let runaway thoughts get to me. Idon’tfeel ready. I feel like I’m going to get up onto that stage and puke. But I hope I will be in a better frame of mind in a few days. Letting out a sigh, I murmur, “I wish I had your confidence, Haze.”
She shoots me a devilish smirk, “Yeah, well. Some of us are just born with it.”
