Page 35 of 1 Last Shot

My own concern disappears when I watch all the joy drop from Isabella's face.

I hate it. I hate myself for causing it.

But before I can backtrack, or cover it up, or saysomethingto make it better, she's pulling in a shaky breath and answering my question.

"I got hurt… back in New York. It basically killed my ballet career overnight."

Her voice is full of sadness, of course, but there's also a coldness, like she's already accepted the fact and gone numb to it.

I know that numbness. I understand that numbness.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I tell her gruffly. Honestly.

She swallows roughly and nods. For a moment, I think that's going to be the end of our conversation, that we're going to finish the rest of the ten-minute walk in silence. But Isabella surprises me by continuing.

"My entire life has been about ballet. Every minute, every life decision, everything I've ever done or spent time on has been with the intent to get better at ballet. My parents sacrificed so much to get me the best of everything. They saw how much it meant to me to dance, so they rearranged their own lives to make my dream happen."

I hear a hitch in her voice, but I keep my eyes forward so she doesn't feel too uncomfortable to share whatever hard part comes next. Because I realize I really want to hear it. I want to hear about her life, and her passion, and what it's like to have parents that give a shit.

"In a way, my dream did actually come true," she says quietly. "I made it to the biggest ballet company in the country. And yet, one freak accident, onesingularmoment… and it was all gone. Just like that. Like none of it ever happened."

I don't know what that feels like. I don't even know what it's like to havesomething, let alone have everything and then lose it.

"So, a new city felt like the right move," she exhales in a rushed breath. "It’s temporary as of right now, but I figured if I'm going to be starting over, I might as well do it in a new environment with new people." She glances sideways at me, and finally, she seems less tense. "Which is how I ended up with two jobs and thirteen hobbies," she jokes with a crooked smile.

I force a half-smile onto my own face, not wanting to kill her mood twice in two minutes.

"Personally, I could do without the job that has you yelling at me and bending me into positions no man should be in," I mutter.

I shouldn't be shocked by the sound of her laughter, but… I am. I can't remember the last time I made someone laugh. And the sound ofIsabelladoing it causes a warmth to blossom in my chest before I can tamp down on it.

"Don't you dare act like yoga hasn't completely benefited your fighting game," she says with a chuckle. "I bet your breathing has gotten better and the flexibility has helped your jiu-jitsu. Am I right?"

I don't bother giving her an answer, though she gives me a knowing grin anyway. I'm too busy quirking an eyebrow and asking, "Jiu-jitsu? Since when do you care about fighting enough to learn the terms?"

At that, the grin drops from her face and a blush lights it instead. She shrugs. "Hailey's always gushing about Jax and the gym, I guess I picked up a few phrases."

I quirk an eyebrow. "You sure it's not because you did a little research into the sport to see how yoga might be a benefit?"

Isabella turns her glare on me. "Absolutely not. Why would I care about that?"

I shrug and face forward, but there's a grin tugging at the edge of my lips.

She faces forward, as well. "I just figured I could stop your moaning if I showed you there's a benefit. Clearly I was right."

"Mhmm."

She lets out a huff. "Whatever. I'll just stop caring about teaching you anything that might make it easier to twist people’s arms behind their backs."

"Whatever you say, princess," I agree, finally letting my grin appear.

I can practicallyseethe flames licking behind her eyes—she looks like she can't decide whether she wants to punch me or scold me for teasing her.

One of the options clearly wins out when she cocks her fist back and playfully socks me in the shoulder.

It’s so unexpected, I can't help it: I let out a loud bark of laughter, clutching the arm she just attacked.

Isabella looks like she wants to smile, too, but she startles and her gaze snaps to Oscar when he lets out a confused whine. “Sorry, buddy,” she mutters, extending her hand to pet Oscar’s head. “You know I wouldn’t hurt your dad.”

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