“I had no one to talk to,” I say.
“You’ve got me. Come on, I’ll show you my bike.”
I don’t protest; instead, I let him take me through the crowd until we reach a fence. There are guards lining it, and the moment he nods at them, they let him through. Finally we’re away from the fans and wild crowds. I sigh. “Wow, they’re a little crazy, aren’t they?”
He laughs. “People get motorcycle mad. It’s hard not to.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say, falling in step beside him. “I’ve never been on one.”
He stops and turns to me, gaping. “You’ve never been on a bike?”
I flush, shaking my head. “No, I’m too much of a girl.”
“We’re just going to have to change that, aren’t we?”
I shake my head, eyes wide. “No way. I’ll probably break my leg and never be able to dance again.”
He laughs. “Live it up a little, Dancer. Life is too short to be afraid.”
Don’t I know it?
“Doesn’t it ever scare you?” I ask as we round the corner to a group of people.
“No, never.”
“Have you ever fallen off?”
“About a hundred times, give or take.”
“A hundred?” I gasp.
He grins at me. “That’s nothing compared to some.”
“Wow.”
We reach the group of people and a tiny girl comes tearing out, running towards Nate. She’s the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s got these long blond locks, big green eyes and a face that would melt any heart.
“Daddy!” she cries.
She must be Nate’s little girl—which means his wife must be here too. I feel a little uncomfortable that I’m here, considering I don’t really know him or any of them.
“Hey princess,” he says, scooping her up and pressing his lips to her cheek.
My heart aches watching them, I can’t really say why. It’s just a feeling of loss and longing.
“I want you to meet my friend,” he says, turning to me. “Dancer.”
I laugh. “It’s Avery.”
He tilts his head to the side, giving me an intense look that has me focusing on his daughter with a flush in my cheeks.
“Avery,” he murmurs, as if testing it on his tongue.
“You must be Macy,” I say to the little girl.
She smiles at me, showing me a row of perfect little teeth. “Mwacy,” she says in the cutest, tiny voice.
Nate laughs. “She can’t say it properly.”
“That’s okay.” I smile. “Mwacy is a very cute name.”
She beams. “Daddy called you a dancer,” she points out.
“That’s because I am.”
“I want to dance,” she cries, throwing her arms up.
“Well, I’ll have to show you then, won’t I?”
She turns to Nate. “Put me down, Daddy, Avie is going to teach me to dance.”
I feel my chest tighten. I know she’s tried to say Avery but ended up with Avie, and it warms my heart to hear her say it like that—but there’s only two people who have ever called me Avie: my mom and my brother. I swallow and push the emotions down as Nate puts her down and she takes my hand.
“Okay,” I manage, my voice tight. “Are you ready?”
“Yes!” she cries, spinning in a circle.
I glance at Nate, and he’s got his eyes narrowed, watching me intently. I don’t dare ask why he’s staring at me like that, because I’m afraid he saw on my face what I try hard not to show anyone. I focus my attention back on Macy.
“Can you spin in a circle?”
She spins around.
“Wow, good girl.”
I spin too.
“You look so pretty spinning.” She giggles.
“So do you. Come here, I’ll hold your hand and you can spin.”
I hold her hand as she spins around, giggling and laughing. She’s a sweet, beautiful little girl. Nate watches us for about twenty minutes before walking over and lifting Macy into his arms. “Time to go, princess. Aunty Mara is here to take you back to Mommy.”
His wife isn’t here? But his daughter is? How strange. As much as I’d love to ask him about it, I don’t. It’s not my business.
“I don’t wanna go,” Macy cries. “I wanna stay with Avie.”
“I know, but Mommy is waiting for you.”
She pouts but doesn’t argue any further. She turns to me and waves her tiny hand. “Bye Avie!”
“Bye sweetie, maybe we can dance again soon.”
Her eyes light up as Nate carries her to a red-haired woman who has just walked in and is shooting daggers at me. I’ve no idea why; I don’t know her. I look away and wait for Nate to come back.
“Sorry about that. She’s got a lot of energy,” he says, stopping beside me.
I smile at him. “She’s beautiful.”
He grins and offers me his hand. “You want to see that bike?”
I nod, taking his hand. “Sure.”
He leads me around the back of the trailers to a row of bikes. He walks me over to the familiar yellow and black one. He slaps the back of it. “This is my lifeline.”
I stare at it. Up close it looks so much bigger and heavier.
“How do you flip this around?” I say, running my fingers over the blue seat.
“You learn. It comes quite easily.”
I frown. “Easily?”
He laughs and leans against the bike, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, Dancer, I think you’d be able to flip one of these babies effortlessly.”
I smile. “You’re being far too kind. These legs couldn’t flip that.”
He lets his gaze go down to my legs, which has me squirming and feeling a little uncomfortable. “I beg to differ.”
I clear my throat and stare around at the other bikes. “It’s nice out here. Do you race at home a lot?”
He shrugs. “I go away nearly as much, but a majority of my races are here.”
I smile nervously, unsure what it is I’m feeling right now. I’ve never felt so at ease speaking to someone. For a second there I forgot myself.
“So, you up for a ride?”
I snap my eyes to him and put my hands up, waving them around. “No, oh no.”
“Come on, I’ll go slow.”
“You’re Nathaniel Alexander.”
He grins, big and broad. “I swear it.”
I’m still shaking my head when he takes a helmet from a neighboring bike and hands it to me.
“No way,” I say, stepping back.
“Little Dancer is afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I cry, putting my hands on my hips. “I just . . .”
“Scaredy cat,” he taunts.
I take the helmet from him, sticking my tongue out and pulling it over my head. When it’s on, I do a twirl. “Well?”
“Sexy.” He chuckles.
He throws his helmet on and lifts his leg over the bike, kicking up the stand. When it roars to life, the rumbling travels right through my body. I hesitate, staring at the back seat, knowing that Jacob would not be happy with me if I get on this bike. I don’t get a chance to think about that any longer, because Nate takes my arm and pulls me towards the bike.
“Leg over, Dancer.”
I put a shaky leg over and wrap my arms around his waist. He leans back and turns to me. “Hold on.”
He doesn’t let me answer; instead, the bike lurches forward. With a scream, my fingers tighten in Nate’s top. He laughs wildly and soon I find myself laughing just as loudly. I’ve not laughed like this since before the day Momma left, and the sound seems foreign, but I can’t stop it. The exhilarating feeling I’m experiencing as we soar madly around the track is something I can’t even begin to explain.
It’s like I’m free.
All of a sudden, all the pain and emotion trapped in my heart is allowed out for a mere few moments. I don’t feel the ache in my chest, I don’t feel h
urt or sorrow; I just feel freedom. I scream loudly with joy and I put my hand in the air. Nate spins around a corner, flicking dirt up and over us but I don’t care. I hold onto him, close my eyes and breathe it in. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease. I’m just me today, just Avery. I’m not broken Avie, or the sister who can’t help, or the daughter who is forgotten, or the wounded soul . . . I’m just Avery.
By the time Nate stops, my heart is beating excitedly and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He gets off the bike and pulls his helmet off before reaching over and taking mine. He instantly grins when he sees my smile.
“You look real nice when you smile like that, Dancer,” he says. “It’s the first real smile I’ve seen you give.”
I feel my smile wobble at his compliment and I look away with a flush. “I had fun.”
“I’m sure my ears know that.” He chuckles, helping me off the bike.
“I’m sorry.” I laugh. “I couldn’t help the screaming.”
He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and studying me. “No problem. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
I stare at him, wanting to look away, not wanting to admire how utterly beautiful he is, but it’s hard. He’s the kind of man you struggle to look away from, struggle to say no to. He’s got this beauty that goes far deeper than his looks. I smile because I know I’ve found a friend in Nate; maybe not a best friend, maybe not even a friend I’ll see often, but a friend all the same.
“Maybe we can,” I finally say, flashing him a soft smile.
His eyes crinkle and even though his smile isn’t big, his expression tells me that makes him happy.
“I gotta get home, but give me your number. I’ll call you next time I’m out on the bike and you can come out. Maybe I’ll teach you how to ride.”
I feel my heart pound at that. I’ve never done anything other than dance; I’ve never even thought of anything else. The feeling I had on that bike, though, it gave me an outlet I’ve never had with dancing. And I always thought dancing kept me breathing. I give Nate my number and he punches it into his phone before looking up and giving me a wink.
“Later, Dancer.”
I grin.
“Later, Nate.”
CHAPTER 4
NATE
I unlock the front door, shoving it open. I step in and I can hear a faint clattering sound in the kitchen. Maybe Lena is finally doing the washing up—God knows she leaves it so fucking long, the plates grow food on food—it’s about time she pulled her ass off the couch and did something. I kick my boots off and throw my jacket down, and then I walk into the living area.
The television is on, but Macy isn’t watching it. A noisy cartoon blares around the space. I turn and walk into the kitchen and what I see has my entire body stiffening. My little girl, my tiny three-year-old has a stool at the kitchen sink and has her hands in the water that’s overflowing onto the floor. Her hair is bouncing behind her and she’s singing a song I can’t understand.
“Macy?” I say, walking in.
She turns to me and in her hand she’s got a giant knife. My heart stops beating. For a second I can’t breathe. Everything in my world stops and panic rips through my chest.
“Baby, put the knife down.”
She looks down at it, and then back up at me. “I’m doing washing,” she says, beaming. “Mommy is sleeping; she forgot to make supper for me. I was washing so I can make it for Daddy and me.”
My heart breaks. It tears in fucking half.
“Daddy is here now,” I say softly. “So I’ll take us somewhere real nice for supper, okay?”
She nods and drops the knife into the sink. I let out the breath I was holding and lift her into my arms, pressing my nose to her hair and breathing her in.
“Go and watch cartoons. I’ll tell Mommy we’re going for dinner, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I put her down and she runs into the living room. I turn and stalk down the hall, angry, fists trembling. I get into the bedroom and Lena is sprawled out on the bed, sleeping. I walk over to scream at her, but stop dead. She’s been drinking; I can smell it seeping off her. I take the final few steps towards her and lean down, shoving her shoulder. She groans, rolling over and blinking her eyes open. She stares at me, eyes bloodshot.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” I bark.
“What’s the problem, Nate?” She yawns. “I was sleepin’.”
“The problem,” I hiss, “is that your daughter was at the sink, alone, with a fuckin’ knife in her hand, tryin’ to make me fuckin’ supper because you’re in here passed the fuck out.”
She sits up, scowling. “I was napping.”
“You’re fucking drunk!” I roar.
“I had a drink with a friend; get over it. Macy was watching cartoons.”
“She had a fucking knife!”
“Jesus, Nate. Are you always going to treat me like this? I’m doin’ the best I can.”
My fists clench and unclench. “I’m going to take her out for supper. When I come back, you better be out of this fuckin’ bed and acting like a decent mother.”
I turn and head to the door. “Get me something,” she murmurs, lying back down.
I lose it. I turn and I storm in, reaching down and lifting her by her shoulders. I haul her out of the bed and slam her onto her feet. I get right up in her face, nearly gagging at the pungent scent of alcohol on her breath. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. This. Bed.”
She starts to cry—only this time it doesn’t work. I’m not giving in to her. She made a mistake - drunk, not drunk, it doesn’t matter. My daughter is everything to me, she’s the only reason I fight in this broken marriage. If something happened to her...no. I won’t let it. I won’t.
“I swear to fuckin’ God, Lena. You better be sober by the time I get back.”
Then I storm out of the room and into the living area.
“Ready to go, baby?” I say, forcing my voice to sound normal.
Macy jumps to her feet and takes my hand. “Can we go to McDonald’s, Daddy?”
“Anything for you, baby.”
~*~*~*~
AVERY
I unlock the front door to my apartment and step inside. The first thing I see is Jacob, leaning against my stark-white countertop, staring at his phone. He looks up when I throw my pack down and he smiles at me.
“There you are. I went past the studio but you weren’t there.”
I shrug, walking over and pecking his cheek. “Dancing was cancelled so I decided to take a walk. I came across some motocross racing and so I stopped by and watched.”
He looks up from his phone and raises his brows. “You went to a motocross race?”
I brush it off as casually as I can. “I just came across it. I didn’t feel like coming home so I watched a while.”
He nods and focuses back on his phone. “Fancy going out for dinner?”
I stare at him and then nod with a smile. “Sure, that would be lovely.”
“You have a shower and we’ll go.”
“Can we walk?” I ask. “It’s a lovely night out.”
He nods, waving his hand. “Sure, whatever you want. We need to go past your dad’s house first.”
I sigh. “Why, Jacob?”
“He wants to see you.”
“I called him three days ago.”
He gives me a stern look. “Stop being so selfish. He’s an old man and he’s alone.”
“I know that,” I snap. “Look, whatever, we’ll go, okay?”
He glares at me but I don’t let him answer. Instead I turn and head to the shower. I don’t rush as the warm water washes over me, and I certainly don’t rush when I’m dressing and putting makeup on. I end up opting for a pair of skinny jeans and an emerald-green turtleneck sweater. I pull on a pair of black, strappy heels and I throw my hair up messily in a clip. Then, with a sigh, I head out and meet Jacob back in the kitchen. He takes his coat, doesn’t give me a second glance, and we walk out
of the apartment.
My father lives two blocks down and around the corner, it’s close enough to walk, and yet, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who ever makes the effort. My father never comes to me. Jacob pushes me as though it’s my fault my dad is alone, but he never makes any efforts for me, so why should I with him?
Jacob and I walk in silence, he doesn’t hold my hand. He’s still got his nose in that stupid phone.
“How was your day?” I attempt.
“Fine,” he murmurs, texting furiously.
I sigh.
We arrive at my father’s massive home and I press the intercom that’s outside the large, cast-iron fence.
“Yes?”
“Wilson,” I say into the speaker. “It’s Avery.”
“Avery,” he sings. “How lovely. I’ll open the gate.”
I love Wilson, my father’s assistant. He’s a warm, gentle old man that, for some crazy reason, stays loyal to my father.
The gates make a loud, shrill sound and begin to slide open. Jacob and I step in and walk up the long driveway to my father’s three-story white mansion. I didn’t grow up here; he got it after my mother went missing. I guess the old house was too much for him.
I don’t knock when I reach the front door; I never have to. I open it to face Wilson. He’s smiling big at me, and he instantly reaches out and pulls me into his arms. He’s a strong man for his age. He’s fully gray, with pale-brown eyes. He’s built, tall and quite powerful. I hug him with a smile and look up at him. He always smiles at me the way I wish Papa would smile at me. Those days, however, are long gone.
“How are you, Wilson?”
He pinches my cheek. “Not as good as you, it seems. You look wonderful, Avery.”
I beam. “Thank you.”
He lets me go and reaches out, shaking Jacob’s hand.
“Wilson, good to see you,” Jacob says, stepping past us and heading down the hall. “Is he in the office?”
“Yes sir,” Wilson says, rolling his eyes at me and causing me to giggle.
Jacob turns and glares at us, but we both stare innocently at him. He turns and keeps walking.
“I better go,” I whisper, kissing Wilson’s cheek quickly before rushing off towards Jacob.
We reach my father’s office and Jacob opens the door, stepping in. I see my dad right away, standing by the window with a cigar in his hand. His once dark-brown hair is now greying, and he’s gotten leaner as age has gone on. He turns to stare at us, and his eyes—the same eyes as mine—are empty. They’ve never been full again. He forces a smile but it’s the fakest, emptiest smile I’ve ever seen.