Chapter 6
six
Teddy stared in the mirror. He never thought he could fuss so much over what workout clothes to wear, but that’s what he needed for physical therapy, and afterward, he and Finn would be embarking on their first date.
Finally.
Sweats were not conducive to seduction, though.
Teddy reminded himself that Finn had been plenty seduced even when carrying Teddy inside his house and for several sessions already with him in sweats, but today Teddy needed confidence that he was definitely lacking after noticing the way these particular sweats looked unfortunate in places.
His immediate thought was to throw away the spray cheese.
And no more ice cream in his coffee.
It was silly to fret, because of course he’d put on weight when he wasn’t keeping up his old rigorous exercise routine combined with hours of dance every day. His eating habits didn’t help, but at his age, he was never going to be his old pants size again with ease.
Unlike Finn, who was in his prime and absolutely flawless.
No, Teddy was not going to ruin this with low self-esteem when he’d been given a second chance. He might not know what he wanted to do with his life, but if his free time was monopolized by Finn Archer for the foreseeable future, that was enough for now.
He changed his sweats to something less formfitting, just in time for his phone to buzz with a text from Erina. He assumed it would be a teasing “good luck” since he’d told her about the date.
I wasn’t going to ask, but the show is going so well. Will you come see it this weekend?
Teddy’s stomach sank. She used to hate when he went to see her perform.
She’d spent most of her career in neighboring cities to keep away from him and any snarky critiques he might offer, but now she was asking for him to be there.
She either worried she wasn’t doing as well as she thought, felt truly proud of what she’d accomplished, or both.
But how could Teddy go back when it had been so short a time since his “retirement”? Before casting, when Don Quixote was still just a planned part of the Spring Season, he was slated to do the choreography, but when his hip started bothering him, he passed it to Hartley.
Erina had joked initially that maybe she’d finally come home for a show if he was taking a break. It hadn’t stayed just a break, though.
I’m not trying to be mean, Teddy. I really want you to see it, she added when he stood there staring for a solid minute without replying.
Teddy texted back:
I’d love to, but I may need a doctor’s note for a plane ride with how my hip’s been behaving. Let me get back to you.
A lie, which he knew was despicable, but he needed time to think this over.
His hip had been feeling better with careful attention to his stretches and medications.
His stitched-up thumb ached more than his hip most days.
His hip wasn’t exactly improving, though, more just maintenance.
If he was careful and diligent, it didn’t hurt, but that didn’t make it easier to do the things he used to do.
Even a few months or years from now wouldn’t change that he’d never… .
He was doing it again, right before getting in the car to see Finn. He had to stop. When everything else was finally going his way, why did he have to dwell on things he couldn’t change?
A dull ache settled in his stomach where his nerves had been as he left the house and headed for the health center. Forcing a smile, he told himself to relax, enjoy the moment, remember that today, he got to bring Finn home with him.
Then he got another text. From Hartley. It was like he’d known Erina had just invited him to the show. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d read it over her shoulder like a rat.
Performances are going even better than rehearsals. They’re saying it’s the best show in years! I always forget how talented your sister is.
As if to say Teddy wasn’t. He had half a mind to block Hartley’s number, but that would only let him win.
It wasn’t that Hartley hated or disrespected Teddy; it was just the way things were in the theater and dance world in the city, something Rick always complained about, but such was the price they paid for good culture—snooty one-upmanship abounded.
Teddy hated that he still missed it, even though he didn’t think it was possible to have the thrill he loved from that life and the relaxed sense of peace he felt living near the beach. He certainly couldn’t have it with his hip in its current state.
“Everything okay?” Finn asked once they were headed into the back. “You’re not having second thoughts about tonight, are you?”
“Not even a little, it’s….” Teddy sighed. No point in lying. “Erina.”
“Did something happen?”
“She invited me to see Don Quixote this weekend.”
“Fun!” Finn spun about with his more common grin as they entered the exam room, and Teddy took up his spot on the table with another sigh. “Not fun?”
“Difficult. More than it should be, going back for the first time as a spectator. I knew I would at some point, just not so soon.”
The sympathetic smile that had gotten under Teddy’s skin a few times before reminded him now how much Finn cared.
“At risk of sounding like a hypocrite again, you are allowed to not be okay. Especially this early in the healing process. Did you want a note to get out of going?” he said with a small smile, reading Teddy’s mind, but he couldn’t do that to Erina.
“I’d be a coward and a terrible brother if I accepted that offer, tempted as I am. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. Like I said, you’re allowed.”
Teddy smiled back at him, still feeling silly despite Finn’s understanding. “I suppose you’re used to sob stories.”
“Well, yeah.” Finn settled in the chair at the desk, facing Teddy.
“But it’s hard for me, too, when there’s someone I can’t help, or when how I can help isn’t what they think they need to be happy.
Losing a limb or mobility, having chronic pain, so many of the things I deal with are a big part of a person’s identity, and people don’t handle losing control of their identity well. ”
“Like your father.” Teddy’s heart broke for Finn as soon as he said it, because that sorrow was bare and potent before Finn collected himself.
“Yeah. I’m still sorry I—”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m glad I was there when you needed someone to listen.”
Teddy had read between the lines of what Finn said that night, and part of him wondered if his father had killed himself, if he’d even had help. Teddy couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for him after already losing his mother.
He would have been angry and sad and confused, and now, as an adult looking back, he wanted to understand while still feeling all those same emotions.
“Thank you,” Finn said earnestly. “You know, that might be the toughest part of my job, recognizing that sometimes I can’t save everyone. It’s hard knowing I can’t always make a difference no matter how much I try.”
That was probably the most vulnerable thing Finn had yet shared with him, which made it easy to reply, “You make a difference with me.”
There came the sunshine again with the creases of Finn’s dimples. “Come on. We have to get some work done if we’re going to earn our date. You sure you don’t mind waiting for me after? Frankie’s my last patient, but that’s still another hour—”
“Actually, I have an idea about that.” An idea that had struck Teddy just that moment.
“Oh?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re done.”
They kept the exam short to get to Teddy’s exercises, making good time once they were in the workout room, but even so, Frankie came in before Teddy was finished, obviously showing up early now to see him.
Instead of saying hello, Teddy called out loud enough for both Finn and Frankie to hear, “How about I help Miss Nutcracker with her PT today?”
“What?” Finn blinked in confusion.
“I’m not ready to dance now,” Frankie sputtered in equal shock.
“Ever hear the expression ‘sometimes you need to run before you can walk’?” Teddy rolled to his feet, abandoning his last set of exercises to approach her.
She grabbed on to the bars of the walking station but seemed hesitant to let her crutches fall.
“Is that why you keep talking about The Nutcracker?” Finn turned to Teddy with a creeping smile. “You’re going to teach Frankie to dance?”
The poor kid looked caught between being terrified and elated.
“We’ll start small,” Teddy said.
There were two obvious first steps in any dancer’s repertoire that would be beneficial to someone still learning their balance. Teddy moved to be in front of the walking station, motioning for Frankie to come closer at his right.
“Lose the crutches. You can do what I’m about to teach you without them. If you start to fall—”
“You’ll catch me?”
“No”—Teddy scowled—“you can grab onto the bar behind you. Grab me and I’ll go down with you.”
Frankie smirked.
“You too, Finn. Come on.” Teddy waved Finn over to stand in line with him at his left, and Finn obeyed with a crook to his smile.
After a moment Frankie threw her crutches aside and walked—gingerly—to stand by Teddy.
“Slow, minimal movement, shifting your weight between your feet. Right”—he leaned onto his right foot, lifting his left slightly—“back”—he stepped back with his left behind the right, putting all of his weight there—“change”—he stepped back onto his right, bringing his left up where it had started and shifting to do the same movements on the other side.
Left, back, left, shift, right, back, right, shift. A simple ball change using the balls of his feet.
Finn likely would have picked it up quickly, but Teddy thought he might be feigning struggle to make Frankie less frustrated.
The moves she could do, but whenever her weight was all on her prosthetic, she wobbled, panicked, and reached back for the bar or set her other foot down to keep from falling.
“I have one more move to show you today, but only if you can do the first without second-guessing yourself.”