Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Shit, he’d said the wrong thing. But she was off again before he could get a word in.
“I’m notjealous,I’m just . . . you know what, sure, fine, let’s say I am. I’m not, but if Iwerejealous, I’d have every right to be.” She ticked things off on her fingers. “Gina’s living her dream, headlining a Broadway show, and she’s got a hunky man along for the ride who worships the ground she walks on.” She ticked another finger. “Kevin is getting job offers left and right, and yet he always seems to have free time. I don’t understand it. I work my ass off, I’m tired all the time, and I never have any money.”
Dimitri had a theory about that, but figured now wasn’t the time to bring up her financial practices.
“Three, my life is falling the fuck apart.”
He swung an arm around the back of the sofa and leaned in, trying for a boyish grin. “On the plus side, you get to spend more time with me.”
Again, that glare. What did it say about him that he found it sexy when she glared at him?
But the tears gathered again on her lashes. Before he could brush them away, she shook her head angrily.
“I’m a goddamn failure, and soon, everyone will know it.”
Alarm made him sit up straight. “What do you mean?”
She gestured at her leg, then around the room. “Look at me. I’m a screw-up. The only times I’ve ever managed to take care of myself were when Gina was around. As soon as she’s gone, I lost my car, my apartment, my money, and now . . .” Her breath hitched. “If I can’t dance, it’s all over.”
Her words triggered his protective instinct, even though in this case, he was defending her from herself. “You’re not a screw up. You’ve had some bad luck, exacerbated by the fact that you’re working yourself into the ground.” He pointed at her ankle. “This happened because you’re working too hard.”
She sucked in a breath. “This happened because I was up all night withyou!”
He shook his head. “That was probably the best sleep you had in weeks. For once, you turned your brain off, and let yourself be in the moment. This is your body’s way of telling you to sit your ass down.”
“Ineedto work,” she said through her teeth. “If I don’t work, I can’t find a place to live, and if I can’t move out of here, I lose my job at the show.”
“Like I said, there’s no rush to move out. No one needs to know—”
“Kevin and Lori know. Everyone who was in that emergency room knows. It’s only a matter of time, and there’s that stupid new rule—”
He waved it away. “I don’t care about their rules.”
“That’s all well and good for you. You’re a judge and a movie star. I’m just another dancer trying to make it in this town, and I will not go back to—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“To what?” he pressed.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just . . . I have to be able to dance. That’s all there is to it.”
“Or what?”
That caught her off-guard. She gave herself a shake.
“What do you mean, or what?”
He leaned back and spread his hands wide. “What if you can’t dance?”
Her mouth fell open, and the expression on her face was so full of hurt, he wanted to take the words back. But it was something she had to deal with, something every dancer had to confront after an injury. He felt like an ass for saying it, but he added, “Who are you if you’re not a dancer?”
She choked on a sob. “I . . . I don’t know . . .”
He rubbed her arm. “It’s okay, it’s just something to think—”
“Nothing.”She smacked her hands down on her thighs. Her lips were set in a tight line, like her fate was decided and there was no arguing. “I’m nothing if I’m not a dancer. Just a giant idiot for thinking I could do this.”
“Hey, stop it.” He trailed his hand up to the base of her neck and tried to massage her there, but she shook him off. “You’re not an idiot. You’re not nothing.”
