Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emily
“Okay, I was really hoping for something kinky, but this smells a little like a school gym,” I said, smirking from under the blindfold Braden had fastened around my eyes.
He chuckled, the sound a low, delicious rumble in my ear as he guided me by the shoulders, steering me slowly through some sort of building. “I promise to fulfill your kinky wishes by the end of the day.”
“Can it involve this blindfold?”
“Whatever you want, birthday girl.”
“Wow. The whole blowing out the candles thing really does work.”
I felt that low chuckle in my ear again, just as Braden carefully helped me step through a door.
And for a second, I let myself relax into it — into him and the ease that felt so familiar, even if a small part of me still noticed the way he’d been just a little quieter lately. A little harder to read.
But he was here. With me. Laughing again.
So maybe whatever had shifted between us had settled.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to look too closely at it yet.
I couldn’t see a thing, but the moment we were inside, the hum from the part of the building we’d been walking through before quieted. I heard Braden flick on a light, felt the cool air of the room wash over my skin.
It was my birthday.
I was thirty years old.
In some ways, it was turning out to be the best birthday I’d had in a long, long time.
First, I’d had my cast off this week, which meant I was free to move my wrist — carefully, at least. It was delightful, wiggling it and stretching it after being restrained for six weeks — even if it did feel a little weak and stiff.
It was one step closer to recovery, and it was the best birthday gift I could have received.
Or so I thought.
Darcy and Marcus had surprised me with a homemade brunch, knowing how much I love French toast and mimosas.
They’d gone in on a gorgeous Louis Vuitton bag for my gift, one so stunning it had my jaw on the floor when I unwrapped it.
I’d never been given something so luxurious, and the fact that I knew they’d had to save up for it made my heart burst.
I felt so loved.
My parents called me to wish me the best day not too long after Darcy and Marcus had left, while I was getting myself ready for my secret date with Braden. He hadn’t told me what we were doing, just how to dress and when to be ready.
It had been a lovely day already — friends, family, and surprises. I was on the road to recovery with my wrist, too, and everything was falling into place.
But I couldn’t shake the unsteadiness in my soul, like I was standing on the precipice of something new and scary and I was about to fall head first into it because I didn’t know how to take a gentle step.
Thirty was still young. I knew that.
But it felt old in an expectant way, in an urgent way, like I needed to have things more figured out than I did presently.
That unsettled feeling had been in my stomach when I went to sleep last night, and it was still hanging on as Braden grabbed me by the hands, carefully holding my injured one as he guided me forward a few more steps.
“Okay, this feels echoey,” I said, suspicious. “Are we in a warehouse? Is this where you kill me? I knew you were too good to be true. Golden retriever, my ass.”
“Says the one who wanted to fuck wearing murder masks on Halloween.”
“And I have no regrets,” I said with a smirk.
Braden laughed, smoothing his thumbs over my skin as we settled in what I imagined was the center of the room. “I wanted to do something special for your birthday. I know this one feels a little…”
“Daunting? Terrifying? Like I’m over the hill?”
“Different,” Braden supplied. “Everything you’re feeling right now is valid. Thirty always feels so far away until we hit it, and then it feels like we’re supposed to have all these milestones checked off the list.”
“Says the wise twenty-four-year-old.”
“I’m wise enough to know that life isn’t about what achievements we stack up in our years. It’s not about rushing to some finish line, either. It’s about all the adventures we take along the way, the detours and the roundabouts that take us on unexpected paths. Life is short. It’s unexpected.”
His voice softened with that, and I squeezed his hand, knowing he was thinking of his sister.
“We have to lean into what we’re given, make the most of our circumstances, and find our own stories.
We’re not meant to follow the same road as everyone else.
It’d be boring as fuck if we did. And that’s what I’ve learned from you.
What you’ve changed in me. I used to think boring was safe.
Now, I’ve realized I don’t care about being safe if it means I don’t get to live in the process. ”
I smiled. Why is my heart aching?
“I didn’t see you coming,” he said next, his voice soft, thumbs still brushing my skin.
“I tried to resist you, tried to stay on the path I thought was safest. But being with you, Em… it’s opened me up.
It’s made me better on the field. It’s helped me loosen my grip on every day, helped me stop trying to control everything.
Even with Ginny and her scare…” I heard him swallow.
“Having you there for that moment helped soften it. You made it easier to bear.”
Okay, yeah, now my nose was stinging. I was thankful for the blindfold.
“I think you feel a little lost, and that’s okay.
This injury threw you for a loop. Your twenties were filled with you doing a lot of exploring.
And that’s the thing, Em. You’re not behind.
Just because you haven’t made it to the destination doesn’t mean you’re not driving and covering miles.
And my take is that you’ve had the more scenic route. ”
My chest was so tight, I struggled for my next inhale.
How does he see me this way? How can he see all that through the mess?
“With all that in mind, and the fact that you’re cast free—”
“Woo hoo!”
“—I wanted to take you somewhere where you could reconnect with yourself. Where you could maybe see another future path, should you decide this is the way you want to steer.”
He dropped my hands carefully, moving around behind me to unfasten the blindfold. His lips dipped to my ear just before it dropped.
“This isn’t the end, Emily. We’re just getting to the good part.”
I blinked my eyes open and found us standing in a gorgeous dance studio.
Sunlight spilled through a wall of tall industrial windows, washing the honey-colored wood floors in gold.
One full side of the room was lined with mirrors from floor to ceiling, the opposite wall fitted with ballet barres and cubbies full of rolled yoga mats, resistance bands, and neatly stacked foam blocks.
A sleek black speaker sat in the corner beside a little table with a water cooler and paper cups, and there was a faint smell of lemon cleaner, old hardwood, and something powdery and familiar — like hairspray and little feet.
It was beautiful.
And achingly intimate.
My chest hollowed out as I looked around, like all the air had rushed from it at once.
Slowly, I turned in a circle, taking it in piece by piece, my heart beginning to pound harder the more I looked. My gaze snagged on the mirror, and before I could think too hard about it, I drifted toward it like I was underwater.
Braden stayed quiet behind me as I lifted my good hand first, then hesitated before raising the injured one, too — careful, cautious, still not trusting it all the way.
My fingertips skimmed over the glass, soft and almost reverent, and the second I saw my own reflection standing there in the middle of a dance studio, my eyes burned.
Oh.
Oh, no.
I swallowed hard and turned back to him, blinking fast. “What is this?”
His expression softened. “It’s a small studio in Fremont,” he said. “I rented it for the afternoon.”
I looked around again, like maybe I’d misunderstood him somehow. “You… rented a dance studio?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave me that crooked, almost shy smile that somehow still undid me every time. “Yeah.”
“For me?”
“Who else would I rent a dance studio for, Em?”
A watery laugh escaped me, and I pressed my lips together, trying to keep myself from completely unraveling.
Braden stepped a little closer. “I wanted you to have a glimpse of what it could be like if you chose dance. Not just performing,” he added gently. “Teaching. Leading. Building something of your own.”
He nodded toward the mirror, toward the open floor, toward all the possibility sitting quietly between us.
“I keep thinking about that flag football jamboree,” he said.
“The way those little girls followed you around like you hung the moon. The way you lit up when you were with them.” He smiled softly.
“You were helping them with their stances and showing them drills and hyping them up like it was the Super Bowl, and you looked…” He exhaled, searching for the right word. “At home.”
Emotion climbed so fast up my throat I could barely keep up with it. What is happening?!
“And when I first brought up teaching,” he continued, “I saw your face. I saw your wheels turning, even if you tried to brush it off.”
I shook my head a little, my voice barely above a whisper. “Braden…”
“It’s been hard. I know. You’ve been on the sidelines.
You got injured. You’re the oldest on the team already, and everything in your head is whispering to you that you’re not enough.
You think dance is ending for you because eventually the NFL is going to decide you’re too old for this version of it,” he said, holding my gaze. “And maybe one day that part does end.”
That landed like a stone in my stomach. But before I could spiral, he stepped closer still.
“But you are never too old to dance, Emily. And as someone who was completely fucking hypnotized the first time I saw you dance, believe me when I say dance had chosen you. It’s just waiting to see if you choose it, too.”