Page 6 of Fools in Love

During some of the rehearsals, things would happen that no one could explain. She hadn’t thought anything of it at dress rehearsal when her wardrobe had gone missing. When Isabella had shown up dressed and ready, Kate had understood everything. When she went to Gabriel with her concerns, Dmitri had been there, defending Isabella. In the end, Kate looked like just another worried diva.

Until two hours before the opening.

With the sound of the waves and the cool night air surrounding her, the sun disappeared over the Pacific without her even noticing. Her mind was thousands of miles away, in the rehearsal room, replaying those last few moments before everything came crashing down.

She lost track of time as she sat there and ran over her routine, how she and Dmitri had moved across the stage hours before the first ticket holder would step into the American Ballet Theater.

Growing more frustrated at the memories and her inability to rewind time and warn herself about what was to come, she stood up and made her way towards the water’s edge.

She lifted her arms over her head as she stood on her good foot and ran through one of her favorite routines. She couldn’t move physically across the sand, but in her mind she could.

Her arms moved, flowed as if liquid through the air. Her muscles were tight from the week-long hiatus, but it felt so good that she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

As she held her bad leg up, knee slightly bent, she could almost believe she was just here on a weekend trip. Her pain was minimal.

She shifted her weight slightly as she continued through her routine, and her foot sank in the soft wet sand. The cold water rushed around her good foot just as a wave crashed around her, causing her to lose her balance.

She’d set her crutch down in the sand that had just been washed away with the wave, and when she went to lean on it to steady herself, her entire body tilted.

It felt like everything moved in slow motion. She braced herself as best as she could and cried out as her arms went out to block her fall and try to prevent the pain she knew was coming.

“Whoa,” a deep voice said as strong arms wrapped around her. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be out here like this yet.”

Then she heard a soft chuckle as she practically melted against the man.

In all the years of dancing with a partner, not once had she been afraid or embarrassed to touch a man. Normally, her fingers would wrap around strong biceps or thighs to find purchase while she was lifted, tossed, or twirled. Always, she had thought of it as work.

Now, however, the strong arms she felt under her fingertips sent a sizzle of awareness through her entire body. It could have been the chuckle. Most partners didn’t laugh and none of them had laughed at her.

Somehow, while she’d sat in the sand, wallowing in her self-pity, the night had crept up on her. Hadn’t it just been moments ago that she’d been watching the sun sink toward the water?

“Thanks,” she said. She tried to right herself, but her good leg still refused to work. It was probably from days of not using it. Would she ever dance again?

To her horror, a sob escaped her lips. The sound, a gargled gasp, echoed on the empty beach.

“Oh god,” she said. She didn’t want whoever had just rescued her to see the tears, so she did the only thing she could think of. She buried her face in his chest as more tears flowed. A tsunami of water gushed from her eyes as her sobs caused her body to vibrate against his.

Her fingers fisted in the man’s T-shirt, holding him prisoner as everything she’d held in for her family’s sake was finally released.

Why? Why couldn’t she stop? She kept telling herself to shut up. To get a hold of herself. To be better than this.

The more she tried, the harder it was to control.

When she realized the man was just standing there like a statue, holding her as much as she held him, she finally stopped.

“I…” she started to say, without looking up.

He was taller than her, but then again, most everyone was. He was strong, solid, and she could tell by the fact that he didn’t push her into the sand and leave her in a heap that he was kind.

“I’m sorry,” she finally blurted out, dashing the water from her eyes.

She hadn’t realized he’d moved them further up the beach, out of the way of the crashing waves, until her eyes finally focused on their feet.

He was wearing shorts and flip flops, worn ones that told her he was most likely a local. He had on a gray T-shirt.

Her eyes moved higher and the first thing she noticed was his smile. His white teeth were almost a beacon in the night’s darkness.

“Feel better?” he asked.