Chapter 1
Chapter One
SKYLA
“W hat are you doing right now?”
I pinch my phone between my ear and shoulder and open my car door, ushering Riley into the back seat. I had to buy a huge car for my huge dog.
“I’m on my way to an appointment,” I inform my brother. “What are you doing right now?”
“I’m between meetings.” I can hear the exhaustion in Connor’s voice. “Thought I’d check in with you. Any news?”
“No.” I start the engine and wait for my phone to connect to the car. “I haven’t heard anything in months, so that’s encouraging. You know, you don’t have to call me every day to ask me if my stalker has found me.”
“That’s not the only reason I call, and you know it.”
“But it’s the first thing you ask me. Don’t worry, I haven’t dropped my guard, but it’s been nice to have some peace and quiet.”
“It’s relieved I am that you feel safe there. That’s what you wanted, that’s what you got, and that’s all that matters. I’ll be in town next week.”
I frown out the windscreen. “Really? Why’s that?”
“A potential investment opportunity. And to check in on my favorite sister.”
“Only sister,” I remind him with a smile even though he can’t see me. “Good, you’ll be here for our spring recital. I’ll save you a seat.”
“Sky—”
“Ah, ah, ah. If you’re coming to town, you’ll watch my recital. No amount of money you have will get you out of it.”
“Fine.” He sighs heavily. “I’ll watch the bleeding recital. But you’ll owe me some meat pies in exchange.”
“I can handle that. What day will you be here?”
“I’ll know for sure in a day or so. I’ll keep you posted.”
“See that you do. I’d better go, but I’ll talk to you later.”
We end the call, and I drive Riley and me from our adorable house to the doctor’s office on the edge of town.
When we walk inside, Riley is at my side in his handsome red service-dog harness, and we’re greeted with a smile.
“Hello, Skyla. I have you all checked in. You can have a seat, and someone will be out for you shortly.”
“Thank you.” With a nod, I lead Riley to the end of a row so he can lie down next to me.
I’m obsessed with Bitterroot Valley, which has mountains and a quaint downtown full of shops and restaurants I love. So many sweet people have welcomed me here. It couldn’t be more different from New York City, which I also loved, but this small town has quickly become home in the eight months I’ve lived here. I have friends and a feeling of belonging that I was afraid I wouldn’t find outside my ballet family in New York.
But I’ve found it here, and I’m so grateful.
“Skyla.”
The nurse grins and gestures for me to follow her. Riley is at my side, walking with me.
“How are you today?” she asks.
“I’m doing well. And how are you?”
“It’s been a good day around here so far.” She winks. “Let’s get some vitals on you.”
After I’ve been weighed and my temperature and blood pressure are logged, the nurse hustles out, assuring me that Dr. Blackwell will be here shortly.
Riley lets out a huff from his spot on the floor.
“I hear you.”
Not long after, Dr. Blackwell bustles into the room, holding his laptop. He smiles at me and then at my dog. He’s a handsome man, that’s for certain. He’s a mountain next to me, but then, most men are. At five foot five and lean from years of dancing, I’m used to feeling petite. Some take advantage of that. The doctor is broad and muscular, with dark hair and dark, kind eyes. I’m sure most of his female patients flirt with him endlessly. There’s no spark, but he’s certainly nice to look at while I’m here.
“Hello, you two,” he says as he sits on the stool next to me and types on the keyboard.
“Hi, Dr. Blackwell.”
“Just call me Blake. How’s that ankle been feeling, Skyla?”
“Not normal,” I reply.
He frowns. “Okay, can you be more specific?”
The usual frustration sets in. “It’s not normal. Not how it was before it was injured.”
Before it ended my bloody career.
“Well, that’s not unusual. But you’ve done everything right. You did PT for longer than was necessary, and looking at this MRI from last week, the injury has completely healed. I would give you the clearance to dance right this minute if that’s what you wanted to do.”
“But I can’t. ” I shake my head. “Of course, I don’t plan to return to New York to resume my professional career. That’s not possible. But even when I dance for pleasure in my studio, it’s not the same. The range of motion, the force it can handle when I jeté?—”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“When I leap or jump,” I clarify, “and land on it. There’s no way I’d be able to put in fourteen-hour practice and rehearsal days.”
“And you don’t have to,” he reminds me gently. “It’s my understanding that such rigorous days aren’t a part of your lifestyle anymore.”
“But I should be able to if I had to.” I lift my chin. “I hate that it doesn’t feel normal.”
Dr. Blackwell sets his computer aside to give me his undivided attention.
“Skyla, ankle sprains are sometimes worse than fractures. They heal slowly, and occasionally, the full range of motion doesn’t return. But you’re a strong and gifted athlete, and I think that with time and practice, you’ll feel more and more normal.”
“Ankles are important in ballet,” I mutter.
“I know.” He nods and glances at Riley, who hasn’t taken his eyes off the doctor. “Strength training, stretches—all the exercises you did in PT will help.”
I nod, feeling defeated all over again. “That’s all we can do?”
“I’m afraid so. Dancers’ bodies take a beating, Skyla. I’m surprised you’re not more beat up than this.”
“You don’t even want to see my feet.” I laugh. “They’re not pretty.”
He chuckles, makes some notes on his computer, and my appointment is finished. Riley and I leave the office and walk out to the car, and he jumps into the back seat.
I’m not quite ready to go home, so we stop at my new favorite place, Billie’s Books. I’ve become good friends with the owner, Billie Blackwell, who happens to be Dr. Blackwell’s sister. We share a love of romance books, and our monthly book club is the highlight of my schedule.
“Hey, girl.” Bee waves as she rings up a customer’s purchase. “That new Monica Murphy book is on the shelf there.”
With a grin, I find the paperback and hug it to my chest. Monica Murphy is one of my favorites, and I’ve been waiting for this one. Of course, I have it on my e-reader, but I’m also a paperback collector.
I turned one of my guest rooms into a library. It might not be the size of Belle’s in Beauty and the Beast , but it’s mine, and I love filling it up.
Taking my purchase to the counter, I smile at my friend as she rings up my purchase. Bee’s a gorgeous girl with dark hair perfectly styled in long, beachy waves around her shoulders. She’s in a smart gray suit today, and as usual , her makeup is perfect.
This woman knows fashion, and I love it.
“How’s it going?” Bee asks.
“I’m better now that I have this beauty for my shelves.” I swipe my card and shake my head when she offers me a bag. “Do you mind if I sit in one of your cozy chairs and read for a bit?”
“That’s what the chairs are for,” she reminds me. “Since it’s quiet in here, I’m going to run next door for a coffee. Would you like one?”
“Just a black Earl Grey tea would be lovely. Thank you.”
“You got it. Back in a few.”
Riley and I settle in our favorite spot. The purple chair is deep and cozy, and Bee added a dog bed next to it just for Riley. He turns in a circle and lies down, but he’s still on alert.
“Good boy.” I rub his head before I open the book and get sucked into this talented author’s words.
Bee drops off the tea, then bustles back to work. I enjoy an hour by the window, reading and relaxing, until I finally decide to head over to the studio to prepare for my afternoon class. It was a good choice to come to Bitterroot Valley. My ankle might not have full range of motion, but I’m strangely content and at peace.
So bloody thankful.