28. Wake-Up Call #2
I lean back to look at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” His hand tightens on my lower back. “Put your feet on top of mine. You can’t slow dance in a boot.” His breath brushes my neck, sending goosebumps racing down my arms.
Heat rushes to my face, and I’m grateful he can’t see it. “Oh… alright.” Carefully, I step onto his feet. “Tell me if I’m too heavy,” I murmur, anxiety prickling at the edges.
His grip firms. “You won’t break me. You’re the furthest thing from heavy, and you know it.” His breath warms my skin, lingering.
Bit by bit, the anxiety ebbs. I let my head rest against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Okay,” I whisper.
Nik sways us gently, the studio hushed except for snow and wind brushing against the window.
With my head resting against his chest, he lays his chin atop my head and sighs. “Why are you here, Eleanor?” he breathes into my hair.
Is this a trap? “I wanted to be here for you,” I explain.
After a few quiet beats I add, “You’ve been there for me through my worst—well, except for the ankle.
” The memory pinches my heart. “I just… wanted you to know I’m here for you too, and—” I want to say I love him, but the words feel wrong at the moment.
I don’t want him to think I’m saying it because he’s hurting.
When I tell him, I want him to know I mean it.
“And?” he mutters.
I swallow. “And because I’m getting help. I’m seeing Evelyn, actually. I’m taking it seriously… and I want to give back what you’ve given me.”
He leans back, tilting my chin up. “You’re seeing Evelyn?”
I nod. “I am.”
A flash of emotion crosses his face. A mix of relief and something heavier he doesn’t voice. “I’m happy for you,” he says at last, and I know he means it, even if he’s holding something back.
We stay that way, swaying in silence, eyes locked. And then, like a tidal wave, love crashes over me, flooding every vein. The way he looks at me—steady, unreadable, but so achingly close—makes me want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Before I can stop myself, I lean in and press my mouth to his, pouring everything I feel for him into the kiss. The need, the longing, the desperation.
But his lips stay soft, still, and unmoving beneath mine.
The realization pours over me like ice water. I stumble back, heat scorching my cheeks. “I—I’m sorry.” My chest heaves. Crap. What did I just do?
Nik doesn’t move. His eyes search mine, pained, stunned. “Eleanor—”
“I want to go home.” The words tumble out sharp and broken. I grab my purse, fumbling for my phone, hands shaking. “I—I’ll call a cab.”
“Eleanor, stop—” Nik reaches for my hand, but I twist away, eyes darting as I search for my phone.
I dig into the purse pockets, breathing shallowly, until my fingers close around the smooth rectangle. Relief surges through me until Nik’s hand closes gently over mine and eases the phone from my grasp.
“Can you just stop for five minutes?” His voice carries that impossible mix of gentleness and aggravation.
I lunge for the phone. “Can I have that back, please?”
He lifts it out of reach, his jaw tense. “Not until you talk to me about what just happened.” A guarded expression washes over him as he struggles to catch his breath.
I huff, trying to swallow the panic clawing up my throat. “I’d rather not.” I bite back the tremor in my voice.
His lips press into a thin line. “Then you’re not getting this back.” He slides my phone into the pocket of his sweats with finality, his eyes never leaving mine.
I ball my hands into fists. “What do you want me to say?” I hiss, desperate to get away from here, to run until I never have to face this moment again.
He didn’t kiss me back. That is enough of an answer. Whatever chance I had with him snapped right alongside my achilles a month ago.
His brows pinch. “I want you to tell me what that was.” He waves a hand toward the empty space we just abandoned. Where I was foolish enough to press my lips to his.
I drag a trembling hand down my face and leave it there, as if it will shield me from him. “It was a kiss, Nik. A stupid, reckless mistake. It won’t happen again, I promise.” My words are sharp, but the tears stinging my eyes betray me.
Nik crosses his arms, frown deepening. “So you regret it?” His tone is steady, almost too steady.
A hot tear trails down my cheek. “You didn’t kiss me back… why wouldn’t I regret it?” My voice cracks in spite of myself.
He steps closer, his voice breaking now, too.
“My mother just died, Eleanor. A month ago I watched you collapse on that stage, and then you vanished. Do you understand? This has been the worst month of my life.” His jaw tightens.
“You’re not some princess, and I’m not some frog you can kiss and make everything magically fine. ”
The words pierce me, but he isn’t finished.
“You lied to me,” he says, softer but no less sharp.
“You made me believe you were getting better. How am I supposed to trust you?” His voice wavers, then drops to a whisper.
“Yes, I’m glad you’re seeing Evelyn. Elated, even.
But you can’t just walk back in here and expect everything to go back to what it was. ”
My lips tremble. I thrust out my hand, desperate for escape. “Just… give me my phone, please.” I press my lips together, fighting the sob threatening to tear through me.
He closes the distance between us until I can feel the heat of his body and the crushing weight of his grief between us.
His hands cup my face, forcing my gaze to his. His voice breaks into a whisper. “You need to heal. And so do I.” He gives a bitter laugh. “And besides… you shouldn’t be here right now. You’re still one of my dancers. Bound by contract.”
I understand what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. How can I earn his trust if I can’t show him I’m trustworthy? I say nothing. I simply savor the feel of his hands on my face, as if this might be the last time.
His grip tightens a fraction, like what he’s about to say will cost him. “I’ve prayed over this. Over you. Over whatever is happening between us.” His frown deepens. “But it can’t happen. At least not right now.”
I nod, and his hands fall away.
He stares out the window for a beat, then looks back at me, reaching into his pocket, and pulls out my phone. He holds it out. “I’ll take you home,” he mumbles, shrugging into his coat.
There’s so much I wish I could say, but the words die before they reach my lips. I know I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was temporarily blinded by the need to make him feel better, acting selfishly.
It doesn’t matter how much we want each other. Nik has to navigate the loss of his mother. I have to figure out who I am, how to live without food being punishment or praise, how to reclaim myself. And, of course, the contract still ties me to this building.
The drive to my apartment is silent. Nik’s frown is permanent, and I can’t stop replaying the kiss, over and over, examining his reaction.
I keep circling back to his words. He’s been praying. For me. For us. Something stirs deep in my chest at the thought of prayer. Months of listening to him, his mother, even Lily, Gabriel, and Dillon talk about faith barely registered before, but now I feel it tug at something inside me.
I glance at Nik. I don’t know if faith is the answer. But I can’t ignore the feeling it stirs.
For Nik. For him, I will try. I’ll give up everything if it means I can have him.