Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
I turned, softer this time, letting my body follow the ache in the song.
My chest tightened.
I thought about the first time I’d seen him truly crack open in front of me. The way he held so much so tightly, as if letting go of any of it might shatter him. I thought about the version of him who’d spent so much of his life putting everyone else first.
And then I thought about me.
About how maybe I wasn’t all that different.
Maybe I’d spent so much of my life chasing some glittering, far-off version of success that I’d never stopped to ask whether I even wanted it — or if I just wanted to be worthy of it.
My feet carried me across the floor, my body loosening with each count, each breath.
My parents flashed into my mind — their sympathetic smiles, the way they’d exchange looks whenever I told them my next move. But for the first time, I saw it all under a different lens.
Maybe I’d taken all of that and sharpened it into something crueler.
Maybe I’d been the one holding myself to impossible standards.
Maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe I was the one who had decided that if I couldn’t be exceptional, then I was failing.
Maybe I was the one who had looked at dance and told myself it wasn’t enough because it didn’t sound impressive at dinner parties, or fit neatly into some glossy definition of success.
My throat burned.
Because what if it had always been the answer?
What if the thing I’d been searching for in all these almosts and pivots and side roads had been here all along, waiting for me to choose it?
I spun, slower this time, the room blurring softly around me before I caught myself and laughed under my breath.
My wrist throbbed faintly when I extended through it, and instead of fighting the limitation, I let it shape me.
Let it soften the line. Let it tell the truth — that I was not who I was six weeks ago.
I was also not who I had been at twenty-five.
And maybe that wasn’t something to mourn.
Maybe it was something to honor.
I opened my eyes then, finding Braden leaned against the mirrors.
God, he was always so fucking beautiful.
His strong body. His warm eyes. The way he could hold so much vulnerability and strength together.
He had his arms folded, one leg crossed over the one carrying his weight, and his eyes were locked on me in wonder.
Like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
For so long, I’d put up a shield — meeting people right where I knew they expected me to be. I deflected with humor. I made risky choices because they felt safe to me in their own right — to fail on my own terms instead of the ones others had predetermined.
But Braden saw through it.
He didn’t look at me like I was broken.
He didn’t look at me like I was falling behind.
He looked at me like I was becoming.
A fresh sting hit my eyes, and I moved again, this time with less hesitation, more trust. My body remembered things my mind hadn’t yet caught up to.
The rise and fall. The release. The ache.
The surrender. I let the song carry me through every version of myself I’d ever been — the little girl who danced in her bedroom, the teenager who believed it would save her, the woman who’d tried so hard to be impressive instead of honest.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I found her again.
Me.
I wasn’t polished, but I wasn’t rusted, either. I wasn’t running and I wasn’t trying to be someone I wasn’t.
I was just trusting that little voice inside me that had been silenced for far too long.
The final chorus swelled around me, and I let it move through my body one last time, every step softer now, more emotional than technical. I danced through the tears gathering in my lashes, through the tightness in my chest, through the hope and fear and grief and possibility all tangled together.
By the time the song began to wind down, I was breathless.
I floated to a stop in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling as the final notes echoed around me.
My eyes slid to Braden, and his jaw was tight, his lower lip wobbling. I crooked my head, and he answered with an embarrassed laugh just as a tear slid down his cheek. He wiped it away hastily, shrugging with another laugh as if he’d had no choice.
As if it was obvious that watching me dance would bring him to tears.
“You big baby,” I said over the music, but it was with my own tears breaking loose.
“Can’t help it,” he replied, standing with another shrug. “Can’t help anything when it comes to you.”
The music was still thumping through my chest as I ran to him, his arms uncrossing just in time to catch me. He held me tight, one hand at my waist, the other cradling the back of my head as he steadied us both.
My lips found his in a feverish need, my body rolling against his, all the emotion of the day surging to the surface as I clung to him.
“I’m ready for the kinky stuff,” I said breathlessly.
Braden answered me with a laugh against my lips, his arms holding me steady just like they had from the start.
“Whatever you want, birthday girl.”