“Neither am I.”
“I don’t know if I want to go back to the ballet company.” Her voice cracked. “But I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too.” He took her hands and squeezed. “So let’s start new. Let’s start now.”
Her lashes fluttered. “With you?”
He met her eyes, steady and open. “If you’ll let me.”
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t pull away either.
She didn’t knowhow long they stood there. Her on shaking toes, him anchoring her with nothing but those strong hands and that maddeningly stubborn heart.
Eventually, she lowered back onto the balls of her feet. Her arches ached, but not as much as her heart.
He didn’t let go and the music ended, leaving vibrations in the air around them.
“Come here.” His voice sounded rough around the edges.
He led her toward the couch, gently guiding her down beside him. Outside, the storm howled. The fire hissed and popped. But inside the cabin, there was only silence.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. She curled up with her feet beneath her, wearing pointe shoes. She could see the tension in his shoulders. The weight he always carried, and the weight tonight had added.
“I don’t have a ring,” he said.
She touched his shoulder.
“It’s in the bathroom, and I didn’t think it would come out like this.” His voice broke. “Not in the middle of a blizzard, not while Damian is in the next room, not while you’re trying to dance in pointe shoes alone, in the dark.”
A pause. The fire popped again.
“But the truth is,” he went on, staring at his hands. “I’ve wanted to ask you since the moment I found you on a flooded road.”
She dropped her hands into her lap. “That day we met.”
“Exactly.” He turned toward her now, eyes tired. “I love you, Daphne. All the pieces of you. Even the broken ones. Maybeespecially the broken ones. I don’t want to wait for perfect timing. I just want to start.”
Her eyes burned. She stared down at her fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. “You don’t want to save me?”
“No.” His answer was immediate. “I want to be beside you. That’s different.”
Her heart ached. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to leap into him and never look back. But her body was sore from the cold, and her brain was foggy with old ghosts of Nutcracker ballets past. She couldn’t even balance properly on her toes. How could she stand beside someone like Abe? A man who was strong and loving and brave?
His hand brushed hers. Not insistently. Just there.
“I want to,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to say anything tonight.” He kissed her fingers, then stood.
The emptiness he left behind rushed in faster than she expected.
“I set up the guest bed upstairs for you. I found one last quilt, and it’s warmer up there.”
She blinked up at him. “You’re not coming?”
He gave her a half-smile. “Not until you make up your mind.”
That shouldn’t have hurt. It was respectful. Kind. Safe.
