Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Dylan sat in the audience of the ballet feeling more than a little out of his depth.
His muscles ached from the long drive and the cramped theater seats didn’t help.
He’d agreed to work with a horse upstate so he figured he may as well take Noah up on his offer of an opening night ticket.
Looking around, he realized he lacked the appropriate wardrobe for going to the ballet and felt particularly shabby in his black sweater and jeans.
When he caught sight of Brodie and his family a couple of rows in front, he slunk down in his seat so as not to be seen, but then thankfully the orchestra started and the lights dimmed.
Suddenly everyone was quiet. Dylan found himself leaning forward in anticipation, watching as the curtain went up.
There she was. He almost laughed aloud at how beautiful she looked.
Lit from the spot, her hair glowed, the curls were all smoothed back but it didn’t matter, he could barely take his eyes off her.
When she moved, he found himself mesmerized by the elegance of her limbs, the grace of her movements, the way her dress fell in delicate folds.
When she smiled, he could have seen the sparkle in her eyes all the way up in the mezzanine.
Dylan had never seen anything quite like it.
He was transfixed by her, by the dancing, by the story, by the music.
He watched the tone change, suddenly saw her sadness, the shine of her eyes.
Felt the music draw him in. Every crescendo of the orchestra seemed to lure from him a barrage of memories; with every graceful step Willow made across the stage right up on her tiptoes, he felt himself give way to emotions he had never before allowed.
Images in his head seemed to merge with the dancers.
He saw his mom in the kitchen, her sad eyes smiling when she saw it was him at the door; he saw his brother Tyler taking the brunt of any rage, then the police escorting him off the property for some pointless crime and him never coming back; he saw Ruby playing with her toys on the living-room floor.
And he saw his dad, looming large as the mountain, brutal and terrifying.
He saw every line on Bob Hawkins’ face, the dimple in his chin, the spittle from his mouth, the power of his hand when it hit hard as a cricket bat.
He saw the worried pity on Mrs. Kennedy’s face.
Coach giving him the money to leave and quite possibly saving his life.
The music changed again, and the story lightened. Willow’s smile dazzled as bright as the lights.
Dylan settled back in his seat, resting his chin in his hand.
He thought of his mom the last time he’d visited; she was a teacher now, dressed up all smart, shoulders back—no longer hunched over in fear.
And his sister was heading off to college, all pouting lips and confident swagger.
He saw Tyler, same arrogant older brother as always.
But when Dylan had said he was coming back to Autumn Falls, he’d seen the look of caution in Tyler’s eyes.
He hadn’t needed the brotherly warning to be careful, but he’d appreciated it.
By the time the show ended, Dylan was wrung out. Embarrassingly, he found himself having to dab at his eyes. The dancers came back on, everyone applauded. Dylan clapped for the whole cast, but mainly he was just looking at Willow.
He watched her taking her bow, looking beautiful in her final outfit—bodice latticed in gold, tiny sparkling tiara in her hair—and he thought that she had made the right choice going back. She looked like she was where she belonged.
The thought made him realize why he had come.
He had hoped, he understood now, that he would watch her and think that she had made a mistake, that she was better off in Autumn Falls, maybe even better off with him.
He knew then that he had taken the job upstate purely so he could see Willow—he never took jobs in New York state, it was not the place for him.
He knew that secretly he had been imagining the wreckage of his old house and seeing instead just a piece of land that he might do with what he liked.
When he took his seat in the theater, he hadn’t been thinking about watching ballet, he had been thinking about afterward, going to her dressing room or waiting for her on the sidewalk outside the stage door and asking her if maybe she might want to go back with him.
He’d secretly harbored a vision of the future that didn’t make him recoil. A vision with Willow in it.
But as the crowd got to their feet in a standing ovation, he knew he wouldn’t say anything.
Because while he longed to tell her exactly why he was there, he knew from the radiant smile on her face that he couldn’t.
Because though he wanted her to choose him, he couldn’t ask her to leave this.
Even if he lived in New York, it would be too much of a compromise.
She’d feel bad because she was performing every night, he could see how it would play out.
They’d barely be together, he’d be itching to get out of the city—he was already itching to get out of the city.
She’d be swept up in her dancing—that was her life, not him.
She belonged on that stage, he could see it now.
And he didn’t want to do or say anything to get in her way.
So when the curtain closed for the final time, Dylan made his way out of the theater, slipping through the crowds till he was outside the front, breathing the cool night air. He could have turned around and watched it all again. He could watch it every night of his life if she was in it.
People were spilling out of the doors onto the sidewalk, traffic clogging the road.
They were all chattering about the performance, heading off to different parts of the city.
Dylan let himself get lost in the crowd, walking to nowhere, kicking himself for how naive he’d been to think he could swoop in and win Willow back.
It made him huff a resigned laugh—it was a nice dream, he supposed.
At least it had taught him that he wouldn’t be averse to settling on his family’s land.
Maybe one day he might even tempt his brother back, maybe get his mom to visit or his sister. Maybe he needed this to realize that.