Chapter 74 #2
But then I feel it, the smallest flicker of hesitation in her. That split-second edge of fear under her skin. I pull back and rest my forehead against hers. My chest is burning, but I won’t rush her. Not now. Not when she’s barely putting herself back together.
So, I do the only thing that makes sense. I hook one arm under her thighs, the other behind her back, and I lift her into my arms.
She gasps, soft and startled. “Lex…”
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
Cade’s right behind me as I carry her down the hall.
I push our bedroom door open and ease her onto the bed like she’s made of glass.
She looks up at me, and for a split second, I see all of it—the war still going on behind her eyes.
The guilt. The fear. The way she’s still trying to believe she didn’t cause this, that she’s not cursed, not poison.
I kneel down beside the bed, kiss the letters on inside of her wrist. “We don’t have to do anything. We’re not here for that. We’re here for you, baby.”
“I know,” she says softly. And this time, I believe her.
I tuck the blankets around her, every motion slow and reverent. She reaches for me before I can pull away.
“Stay,” she whispers.
“Always.” I strip off my wet clothes and crawl in behind her.
Cade climbs in on the other side, his hand brushing hers beneath the blanket. And for the first time in weeks, she lets us both hold her.
???
Wexley, University
“How’s she doing?” Knox asks, eyes focused on the DJ booth as he twists a knob and taps his tablet. The bass thumps softly through the arena, testing the levels. The lights above us shift, casting streaks of gold and crimson across the polished wood floor of the gym.
“The nightmare hit around three a.m.,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was bad. Like, screaming-in-the-shower bad. But it’s the first one in a few days. They’re starting to space out again.”
Knox nods, flipping a switch and watching as one of the overhead lights flicker into place. “How do you think she’s gonna do with all this?”
I glance out at the stands as the doors open. People start trickling in—students, teammates, Legacy alumni, coaches, random fans of the Trifecta. Haley’s already bouncing around, greeting people like it’s her birthday while Ellie’s directing traffic like a damn campaign manager.
“I’m hoping,” I say, voice rough and tired. “The music. The crowd. The noise. Maybe it brings her back, even just a little… especially once she realizes that it’s all for her and her dad. We got a glimpse of the real her last night. She let us hold her in bed. All three of us, just holding on.”
“That’s a start,” Knox says, watching a stagehand haul in a rack of folding chairs. His tone is gentle, but he doesn’t look at me when he says it. Probably doesn’t want to see how fucked I look right now.
“I know it is,” I mutter, jaw tight. “But damn, Knox. This is killing me. I miss her so much. And she’s still right here. Right in front of me and I just can’t fucking reach her.”
The DJ setup clicks as another bassline hums through the air, vibrating the floor beneath our feet.
“I know, man,” Knox says after a beat. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you and Cade are going through. Or what she’s dealing with. But your family is strong. The strongest out of all of ours. You three will make it through this. I know you will.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thanks, Bestie.”
That gets a dry chuckle out of him, even as he flips open a crate of mic packs and starts organizing them. “Oh, I meant to tell you,” he adds. “Since this is basically a party-practice, you’re going to be in charge of her chair stuff today.”
I arch a brow. “Her chair stuff?”
“You know what I mean,” he says. “I’m letting you decide if she does the chair routine or not and who’s in it. I don’t want to push her. If she starts spacing or looks even remotely off, just give me the signal. We’ll cut the bit and let Haley and Ellie finish it out.”
“Thanks, Knox. I appreciate that.” I glance down at the floor, watching a few stage markers being laid out. “That means a lot.”
By now the stands are almost half full. People keep filing in, more than I expected. Rico, Javi, and some of the Legacy freshmen are weaving through the crowd, handing out folded burgundy shirts. Every single one of them is the same.
Dad had the University of Arkansas do a rush order on a custom shirt order for us. All the shirts look like replicas of a Razorback football jersey complete with HARRINGTON and 17 on the back.
It’s a tribute. A quiet, powerful one. Something Bella doesn’t know about yet.
Cade and I take our seats in the front row, right where she’ll see us the second she walks out. I can’t sit still, my leg’s bouncing and my eyes scanning every inch of the gym like I’m waiting for a bomb to drop.
The place is packed now. Legacy’s stretching, their warm-up jackets half-zipped, hair slicked back, and ready to perform. Javi’s pacing, muttering in Spanish. The bleachers are vibrating with the low thrum of conversation and anticipation.
Next to me, Dad leans forward, elbows braced on his knees like he’s gearing up for war.
Mom reaches over him and squeezes my arm.
She’s been softer lately. Warmer. Like she’s finally seeing Bella for who she is.
I just hate that it took a dead father and a broken girl to get her to act like a fucking mom.
On Cade’s other side sit Cade’s parents, dressed like they’re attending a silent auction instead of a tribute dance. And just one seat down from Clay, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his jaw like stone?
Roman fucking Russo.
Yeah. That Roman. He asked to come. Insisted, really. Said he wanted to see his daughter dance, for Henry. Cade and I told him no. Twice. But he showed up anyway. Said he’d stay in the crowd and stay out of her face.
She’s not ready. And if he tries to push her, I’ll drag him out of this arena by his throat.
The gym gets louder, cheers and whistles echo now as people realize it’s almost time. Knox throws me a look from the DJ booth. Everything’s on standby.
My phone vibrates. I glance down.
BELLA: I need you.
My throat closes. Cade’s already leaning toward me, like he felt the shift in my entire body.
“What?” he asks.
I show him the screen. He doesn’t wait, just stands. I’m already moving. Elbowing through the crowd. Past the line of Legacy girls waiting to go on.
We push past the last curtain and step into the narrow backstage corridor just in time to see her. Bella stands near the mirror wall, her back half-turned as Ellie adjusts her earring and Haley smooths down the edge of her outfit.
But it’s the outfit that nearly kills me.
A beautiful black and burgundy one-piece, short as sin, dripping in fringe that shimmers with every movement.
Her legs look a mile long, those toned thighs wrapped in knee-high black boots, dusted with burgundy glitter that catches the backstage lighting like fire.
Her hair’s curled and wild, lips painted a deep bruised red.
She’s chaos and elegance and danger wrapped into one lethal vision.
She turns and the second her eyes land on us, her whole face softens. Thank fuck. She walks straight toward us no second-guessing and throws her arms around both of us in one tight, trembling hug.
“I can’t do this,” she whispers. “I’m so nervous. I don’t get nervous, that’s not me.”
“Breathe, baby,” I say, cupping her face, gently pulling her back just enough to see her. “You’re okay. You’ve got this. You’re not alone.”
She sucks in a breath, then steps back and her gaze drops to our chests. “What are those?” she asks, squinting at our shirts.
Shit.
Cade looks at me like you wanna handle this or should I?
“Uh…” he clears his throat. “Well. That was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Surprise,” I say quickly, shrugging. “My dad had ‘em made. Custom Razorback shirts. You know, for your dad. Thought it might… help a little bit.”
Her eyes dart between us, wide and already glassy.
“Guys! That’s amazing. I love them!” she says, and then she grabs my shirt, yanks me down, and kisses me.
No warning. Just mouth on mine, fierce and hot and fucking alive. Her lips crush into mine. Months of silence and guilt burn off in the heat of it. My hands fly to her waist, holding her close, bracing myself before I float right off the earth.
Then she breaks the kiss, turns to Cade, and pulls him in too, just as greedy, just as desperate. He groans into her mouth, palms cradling her cheeks like she’s something breakable and sacred.
We hear Knox announce Ellie, Haley, and the rest of the Legacy.
“Will you guys go out there with me? I know I’m supposed to sing to kick today off, but like… I might need a little push. A gentle shove. Or, you know, Cade you could drag me out by the hair, Lex throw me over your shoulder like a neanderthal. We’ve got options,” she smiles and shrugs.
We both laugh and holy shit, it’s real. A joke. She’s joking.
Cade brushes his thumb across her cheek. “Oh my god. Our girl’s joking.”
Before she can answer, two beeps. Walkie on.
Knox’s voice crackles through the comms. “Alright, Bella. Everyone’s in place. You about ready to come out, babe?”
She looks between us, then nods. Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath and something in her eyes sharpens. Like a match finally finding flame.
She straightens her spine and shakes out the last bit of nerves. “Yeah, Knox,” she says. “I’m ready.”
The lights in the gym dim suddenly, then flash back to life in deep red and bright white, slicing through the space in rhythm with the bass Knox drops over the speakers. The crowd erupts, that pulsating pre-show buzz sweeping through every seat.
“Alright, Wexley, this is it. The official dress rehearsal for Nationals. You’ve already met The Legacy. You’ve already fallen for our girls Haley and Ellie.”
The lights pulse once, twice then the red intensifies, spotlighting the center of the court. “But now… it’s time.”
Another bass drop. The crowd leans forward.
“Time to meet the one you’ve heard about. The one you’ve seen run this floor like it’s her own personal kingdom.” A beat of silence. A slow rise of tension. “The center of the storm. Give it up for the one and only Bella Blackwood!”
The roar hits like a wave.
Bella flinches, just barely. But we’ve got her. Cade and I tighten our arms around her, one on each side, her fists gripping our arms like lifelines. We guide her forward, step by step, onto the court.
Onto her throne. The lights follow us as we walk, three shadows cast in scarlet and white, like a coronation. Her head held high, that shimmery burgundy-and-black outfit catching every ray of light.
When we hit center court, she halts. The spotlight finds her. And for a split second, the whole damn world goes quiet.
“You’ve got this, baby.”