Chapter 48 Mid-Serve, and God Said No
MID-SERVE, AND GOD SAID NO
Holly
“I didn’t even have time to panic properly before Nate was there. And the look on his face…”
The studio stage buzzed like lightning on the horizon.
Nate stood beside her in their matching retro-fitted costumes, black with electric blue piping.
His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to be indecent, her fringe skirt swung against her thighs like a dare.
He smirked as the announcer called their names, and she couldn’t help herself.
Her fingers reached out, caressing the inside of his wrist intentionally as Indie worked her way through their intro.
“And now… here’s Holly and Nate, dancing the Jive!”
By the time they were out on the floor ready to go, Nate was looking at her like she hung the fucking moon.
The upbeat, cheeky tempo of Good to Go by Daphne Willis and LòNIS kicked in, and they hit it.
Their eyes never left each other, their bodies moved like they were built to.
Holly was sharp and flirtatious. Nate was loose and easy, keeping pace with her like he was the only one who could.
It was fire. It was fun. It was them, unleashed.
Every count of the music surged through her bones, like lightning, sharp and euphoric. Nate's grin was wicked, his footwork clean and cocky, and his hands on her waist made it feel like the whole show had been leading to this moment. This wasn’t just a jive. It was a promise in motion.
They’re back.
She could feel the crowd cresting with them and the lean of the judges as if they knew they were witnessing a resurgence.
For once, Holly let herself believe this was real.
The air between them was still charged, yes, but it’d been rewired for better efficiency.
Reworked to allow for trust and heat, and something soft she didn’t have the courage to name just yet.
No drama, distance, or damage that couldn’t be undone. Just the two of them against the world, on the same stage and the same side of whatever this was, finally in sync.
And then it happened.
They were launching into the final chorus, the setup for the lift that was designed to land them not just in the top spot, but into the show’s hall of fame.
Nate stepped into position, arms ready, expression focused.
She sprinted toward him in her Latin heels, core tight and strength coiled, ready to soar…
before something rolled under her foot. Small, round. Lethal.
Pearls.
They were scattered under the lights like landmines, and Holly had half a second to realize what they were before everything came crashing down.
Her ankle rolled hard to the side and twisted, snapping with a sick, wet crack that echoed inside her skull.
Pain roared through her as her hip slammed into the floor, her wrist twisting beneath her as she tried too late to brace herself.
The breath left her lungs in a stunned, gasping grunt as the studio fell into absolute silence.
Music cut mid-beat. Spotlights hovered. The audience, the judges, even the crew were all frozen in that unbearable stillness where no one has actually registered the moment everything went to hell. But one person was still moving.
Nate.
She saw him in slow motion as she slipped, eyes widening when he realized she was gonna hit the deck and there was no way he could make it to her in time.
The panic in his face when she landed told her this wasn’t just a slip, and then her whole world had narrowed to the raw, white-hot scream coming from her ankle.
“Oh—fuck—fuck,” she hissed, jaw clenching as tears stung her eyes.
She tried to sit up, blinking through the dizziness and nausea crawling up her throat, but her leg shifted slightly and the pain flared so violently it stole her breath.
Nate was beside her in an instant, eyes wild, breath ragged, looking at her as if he didn’t know what to do but wouldn’t stop trying to soothe her anyway. Then he let himself touch her, hands warm and familiar and way too callused to be this gentle. One on her back, another cupping her elbow.
“Holly—shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m here, just breathe. No, don’t move...”
“I—” She tried to speak, but her voice cracked and crumbled in her throat. She swallowed against the pressure in her brain, trying to breathe, trying to not fall apart under the weight of it and in front of the whole of America. “Nate,” she whispered, choking on the words, “I—I think it’s broken.”
And just like that, the glittering world she’d built step by step, show by show, and breath by breath collapsed around her.
Nate didn’t falter, not for a second. One moment, the cold stage floor was pressing into her bruised hip, and the next thing she felt was warmth.
Strength. Nate’s arms were around her, one under her knees, the other cradling her back like she was made of spun glass and heartbreak.
He lifted her with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, like she weighed nothing, like her pain had rewritten gravity.
The studio had burst into a cacophony of gasps, shouts, and someone calling for a medic, but none of it reached her.
All she could hear was his voice, low and steady, as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“I’ve got you, Holly. I’ve got you, baby. It’s gonna be okay.”
The lights were too bright. Her ankle throbbed with pulses of fire.
Holly curled her fingers into his shirt, gripping hard, hiding her face from the cameras as she grounded herself in him.
Her skin was clammy, her heart pounding.
Somewhere behind them, the judges were standing, shouting questions, Chantreuse pointing at the pearls scattered all over the stage.
Production was scrambling like ants on a kicked-over hill.
Cameras followed them all the way offstage, because of course they fucking did.
Nate carried her through the chaos like a storm in reverse, quietly controlled and deliberate.
She could feel how tight his jaw was, could feel the way his chest moved like he was holding back the urge to break something with his bare hands.
But his hands on her were impossibly gentle, as if he didn’t care who saw or what they thought.
When they finally passed the curtain and the shouting faded behind them, she let herself sag against him, pain and adrenaline and something deeper crashing down all at once. She didn’t want to cry. But God, she was close.
Strictly Scandal Online:
brEAKING: Chaos at Take the Floor
Pro dancer Holly Martinez suffers a catastrophic fall during the final moments of her electrified Jive with Nate Eriksson.
Sources say foreign objects (possibly pearl beads) were found scattered across the stage.
Was it sabotage… or sloppiness? More as this story develops.
u/goalie_thirsttrap on Reddit:
bro went from enforcer to emotional support golden retriever in one reality show
I’m not okay
@ballroombaddie on Instagram:
“Fix You” by Coldplay plays
“Not me watching Holly try to stand on a shattered ankle and Nate immediately turning into a human ambulance with a jawline.”
#dwts #hollymartinez #nateeriksson #imsobbing
Mamá
Hola mija just saw the video and almost threw my ivpole at the tv who put pearls on the dance floor esto es criminal are you okay you looked like you were in so much pain my heart is in my throat I swear I will come down there with a chancla and a lawsuit text me when you can mi amor I’m praying over your ankle right now x
Holly
Hola Mamá, it’s Nate.
Holly’s resting now, but I’m right here with her and won’t leave her side. She took a bad fall but she’s being seen by the best, and she’s already giving the nurses attitude so I think that’s a good sign.
I know this must’ve scared you. It scared me too. But I’ve got her. I swear to you.
I’ll make sure she eats something with protein, too.
Thanks for checking in. I’ll keep you posted.