Chapter Eleven
T he day Blake Valensky decided to take me to the ballet shop on the outskirts of town, I realized two things: his piercing blue eyes could potentially melt steel when focused solely on me, and that there was no such thing as a simple trip when your world was literally cracked in half.
"We'll need to skirt around the south end," Blake murmured as we approached his shiny black car. His voice had a protective growl underlying each word, which made you feel like nothing bad could ever get close enough to touch you. The southern route was longer, thanks mainly due not just to traffic, but also because parts of it were still demolished from the earthquake.
As he navigated through twisting backroads lined with crumbled brick buildings and twisted rebar hanging like metal curtains across abandoned pathways, tension knotted between us. It wasn’t unpleasant. It just clung tight around us, like vines gripping ancient trees; quietly persistent and inexplicably thrilling. Every brief touch, as his hand brushed against mine while shifting gears or an accidental caress at a cramped intersection, sent electric shocks dancing down my spine.
A whisper of rain began to patter on our windscreen when Blake spoke again, “I know this isn’t ideal for your first visit back into the city.” His voice held that characteristic tone threaded perfectly between concern and command, which vibrated warmly against my skin despite cold droplets decorating the outside of the glass pane. “But trust me,” he continued, turning briefly, his electric blue eyes, piercing directly into mine, "the ballet shop will be worth it."
Turning back to the ruined world out the window, my heart skipped a beat, a foolish response to the promise of new beginnings and the passion of dance again.
My brow furrowed as we took a road I didn’t recognize. Lips pursing in confusion. Where was he taking me?
"Never been this way before?" he asked without looking over at me directly; instead, focusing intently on managing the twists in our route, which seemed designed more by disaster than any city planner’s foresight.
"No... normally I use the bus, which travels straight through downtown,” my reply stumbled out more uneven than intended under his gaze.
As the city’s famous old oak tree came into view, its gnarled limbs stretching toward the sky, like ancient hands grasping for freedom, I felt a shiver snake down my spine. It wasn’t just the chill in the air; it was the weight of knowing that as an omega, these streets could turn from sanctuaries into traps in a heartbeat.
Pulling up outside the ballet shop, I looked up. The front of the shop was quaint, almost whimsical. It was painted in a soft lavender that matched the morning sky. The sign above it swung gently in the breeze and read, "Pirouettes an understanding perhaps too delicate to define in mere words but potent in its silence.
We spent some more time in the shop, exploring racks laden with dance apparel and accessories. Each item sparked anecdotes or dreams about what performances might come.
Then, after I had been measured for the correct pair, we departed from the shop, with a bag swinging lightly between my fingers.
Blake took my hand and whisked me to two more shops. One for ‘normal’ shoes. Because apparently walking around barefoot was a hazard to my health. I smirked as he explained. So, I humored him and trekked around a few more shops in search of a pair of shoes.
I chose a cute pair of white and pink trainers and a pair of tan ankle boots. Then, we spent the afternoon clothes shopping, to pick up clothing in my actual size. I sighed. I mean, I didn’t mind wearing their clothes. In fact, I loved it. But it was nice to have something of my own.
As we walked back to the car, Blake took the bags from me and smiled. I rolled my eyes, then pursed my lips. “I’ll pay you back Blake,” I said, wishing the ground hadn’t swallowed up my home, so I could access my debit cards.
He chuckled. “There’s no need, sweetheart. What’s mine is yours.”
My eyes narrowed, and I looked at him. “But why?”
He stopped, took my hand, and pressed it to his heart. “You know why.” I still frowned, and he sighed. “One day you will realize that you own my heart, and everything else that comes with it. You’re ours Summer Rayne. Always and forever."