Cayden
THIRTY-SIX
“Who the hell designed these seats? A kindergartener?” Kane mumbles next to me as he tries to get comfortable.
“It’s an elementary theater,” Foxx shrugs.
“Still…my knees are touching my throat,” Kane mutters under his breath.
“I told you guys that you didn’t have to come,” I remind them, but Kane is right. These seats are not made for six-foot-four hockey players.
Or anyone close to our size, for that matter, as I spot the Montgomery Brothers a few rows ahead of us, sitting with Knox and Savi and looking just as uncomfortable as we are.
“We wouldn’t miss Scar’s first dance recital,” Kane sighs, giving up on the idea of being able to move as he settles back as best he can.
“She made us pinky promise at practice, and you don’t break a pinky promise,” Hayes says, shaking his head. “Everyone knows that.”
Mae told me she cornered the guys last week in practice and told them all about her recital. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that she not only got them to come to a kid’s dance recital on a Saturday afternoon, but she also made them pinky promise so they wouldn’t back out of it.
I glance down our row that’s crammed in like a pack of sardines and chuckle softly. She got an entire row to show up just to watch her twirl on stage for three minutes. It never ceases to amaze me how someone so little can have so much power over full-grown men’s hearts.
Including mine because somewhere along the way, I stopped protecting her from every little part of the world and started letting some of the world love her too.
My gaze lands on McCormick, and his face is blank as he stares at the program in his hand. Anyone else wouldn’t think anything of it, but I see past the armor he’s wearing.
His body is tense and rigid as I take in his tight jaw and white knuckles from gripping the program too hard. He’s clearly uncomfortable here and battling his own set of demons.
But he showed up.
They all did for my daughter.
Even when I’ve pushed them away on days I was drowning in grief and never let them fully see past the mask I got used to wearing…they still showed up.
“Thank you, guys, for coming,” I suddenly say, as all eyes turn toward me. “I know it means a lot to Scarlett, and it means a lot…to me,” I add quietly.
“We wouldn’t have missed it, Daddy Blade,” Hayes says, then grins wider when I get a physical reaction to him calling me that again.
The guys chuckle softly, easing some of the tension in McCormick’s shoulders.
“If you ever call me Daddy Kane, I will personally make you eat ice at your next practice,” Kane mutters, causing Hayes to laugh.
“Geez, I never knew there was so much hatred toward being called Daddy. I hear it all the time,” Hayes grins.
“From women,” Kane hisses under his breath. “I don’t need your voice haunting me at inappropriate times.”
“Exactly,” I agree, shuddering at the thought.
“I’m flattered you think of me during inappropriate times,” Hayes says, placing a hand on his heart.
“Jesus,” I frustratedly mutter under my breath.
“It’s like talking to a goddamn toddler,” Kane mumbles.
The lights suddenly dim, saving me from the rest of this conversation as our eyes are drawn to the stage.
I watch Luna walk out, and my entire world narrows to the woman under the spotlight as she lifts the microphone. She’s wearing a pink flowy dress that hits her mid-thigh, and her hair is secured in a tight bun at the nape of her neck.
She’s beautiful under the spotlight—there is no denying that. But it isn’t the dress or the way she looks that has everyone watching her. It’s the way she lights up as she talks about those kids.
She makes every single person feel how much she loves what she does.
“Dance isn’t just learning steps or performing on stage. It's about confidence. Finding a piece of yourself that you might not have known was missing…it’s about letting go,” she says, her gaze landing on me briefly as my chest tightens, knowing she’s not just talking about dance anymore.
She’s talking about me.
“It’s trusting yourself enough to stop fighting the things you feel and being brave enough to take the next steps, even when you don’t know where it leads.”
Her eyes drift around the room, and a bright smile stretches across her face. “It’s learning to just…be.”
I think back to our first yoga session and how hard I fought to hold onto that control. She’s slowly shown me how to breathe again…how to live again.
She talks a little bit more about the recital tonight and how proud she is of the kids before applause fills the air. By the time she leaves the stage, you can feel the energy rise in the auditorium as everyone eagerly anticipates the performances tonight.
When I talked to Luna earlier, she told me Scarlett’s class would be third. Mae volunteered to help backstage with Luna’s mom and Maya. With their help, they were able to fix my poor attempt at a ballerina bun.
Big hands and tiny little bobby pins and clips do not mix very well.
And who knew so much hairspray was needed to keep it in place?
We watch the first two groups, and I recognize Luna’s nieces in a couple, along with some of the Montgomery girls. They are all really good, and I can tell they’ve been taking lessons for a while.
That and Luna’s just a damn good teacher. The kids are not just enjoying themselves up there on stage…they are thriving in it.
When the lights come back on for the third group, Luna brings out the tiny dancers. They file out one by one with pink tutus and ribbons. It’s like the whole place instantly melts as awws fill the air in unison.
Scarlett spots us right away, her face lighting up as she waves with both hands.
And just like that, she has five professional hockey players who spend their nights intimidating their opponents, fighting for the attention of a toddler wearing a glittery tutu.
“Just in case you ever question it, you are doing everything right with her,” McCormick says next to me.
“I question it every day,” I slightly chuckle.
“Don’t,” he says, looking straight ahead at my daughter. “She’ll never have to question whether she’s loved. You show up for her. Hell, all of us are proof of that today.” His fingers curl at his sides as his jaw ticks from the pressure…or maybe a memory because his eyes seem to be miles away.
He finally turns back to me, and his grey eyes are stone cold. “Never question whether you are doing enough, Blade, because I can guarantee you that she doesn’t.”
My gaze goes back to the stage as the music starts. Scarlett’s face is filled with so much joy that you can’t help but feel it.
Luna guides and directs them on stage as they follow and mimic her dance movements. There’s not a person in this place who isn’t grinning as they do their ending pose.
Our row claps and whistles like we just won the fucking Stanley Cup as they do their cute little curtsy before walking off stage. I notice Luna takes Scar’s hand and whispers something to her as pride etches across my daughter’s face as she excitedly bobs her head.
“Why do I feel like a proud dad in this moment?” Hayes asks, taking one last picture before they walk off. “That was so fucking adorable. Almost makes me want to settle down and have one myself.”
“Can you imagine another Hayes walking around?” Kane chuckles. “God, help us all.”
“Please spare the world,” McCormick mutters.
“I said almost. The world isn’t ready yet for the greatness that I will create,” he grins.
“We can always hope the apocalypse will come first,” Kane mumbles, causing us all to laugh.
The next group comes on, saving us from Hayes’s next comment as we settle in and watch the next few dancers.
When the lights dim for the last performance, Luna’s silhouette walks out on stage. She gets into position, and a single spotlight hits her body.
She’s changed into another outfit, and this one has me studying every detail. It’s flowy like the last one, but it’s the design that has my chest tighten.
One side is white with a few soft feathers placed around the bodice, while the other side is black and torn in places. The dark feathers on top and the contrast from soft to sinister give you the feeling of angel vs. demon.
It’s my tattoo.
When the music comes on, and she starts to dance, my heartbeat starts to thump loudly in my chest as I realize what I’m seeing.
She’s performing the dance she made for me.
The same one I watched that night.
It’s my dance.
My gaze is locked on her as her body moves and flies across the stage, caught between light and dark
Pain vs. love.
When she collapses on the floor, the music changes to a softer note as her body emerges into the light, leaving the pain and fear behind.
She dances for hope now.
She dances for love.
I don’t breathe.
I don’t move.
The ending gets near, and when she does her final leap, reaching into the air for something before landing and hugging herself, I see it in a different light.
It’s no longer something that I want to fight…that I want to control.
I’m the one she’s reaching for at the end, and I realize that no matter what I control or how hard I fight it…
It was always meant to be us reaching for each other in the end.
The crowd erupts around me as people stand and cheer, pulling me back into the theater as it slowly comes into focus.
I slowly get up and cheer, but what I really want to do is run up on that stage and get my girl.
“God, she’s fucking amazing,” Hayes says in awe as Luna stands up and takes a moment to soak it all in.
When her gaze finds mine in the audience, she grins wider, and my smile matches hers.
“She is amazing,” I finally reply, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
Something settles in my chest, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel heavy with everything I’ve lost.
It feels full with everything I still have.