“I mean, it sure feels like it.” I swallow hard. “Let me talk to my physical therapist and get back to you.”
“You’re still gonna talk…?” I’ve never heard anyone as shocked as Terrence is in this moment. “Okay, but Lucy? Don’t wait too long. Things move fast in this industry. Attention spans are short and dancers are a dime a dozen.”
I nod, almost as dumbfounded as Terrence that I’m pausing. “I won’t wait too long. I just want to be sure, you know?”
“I guess,” he replies, unconvinced. “I’ll stall with the director, but call your guy now, if you catch my drift.”
“I hear ya,” I say, then tap the ‘end’ button.
I’m pacing again, gripping my untouched coffee, so amped up I’m not sure caffeine is prudent. This is it. Everything I wanted, everything I worked for. A second chance in an industry that doesn’t give them.
And I told my agent to wait.
Why?
When I first got hurt, I was willing to dance through the injury so I wouldn’t lose the job. Now, in one breath I’m swearing the ankle is stronger than ever and in the next I’m pausing to think before accepting my second chance.
I put my coffee on the counter with a loudthunk,the liquid sloshing over the brim onto my hand. This is too big to think through on my own. I need to talk about it. I grab my phone, then pause. Who do I call? Not Nash. He’s busy at work and this is a conversation that should happen face-to-face. Not my parents… Not Stella or Gabby… They’re too biased.
Mentally scanning through my contacts, I land on Bennett. He knows my situation but is removed enough that he doesn’t have a stake in the outcome. He’s the perfect person to help untangle my thoughts.
A quick text has him agreeing to meet me after his shift. A check of the time shows I have approximately five hours to drive myself insane.
The Brass Lantern is so not my vibe. It smells of beer and fry grease. The guy behind the bar looks like a grizzled veteran or a lifelong sailor who forgot how to smile a decade or two ago. The lighting’s weird. The jukebox is ancient and dusty—I mean who has a jukebox anymore, anyway? But then I catch sight of Bennett, and everything feels better. He waves me over and I slide into the booth across from him, tucking one foot under the other, like muscle memory from all those middle school afternoons when we’d hang out after school.
He lifts his beer, brows raised. “I knew you’d finally choose me over Stella. Just didn’t think it wouldtake this long.”
I roll my eyes. “Remember when you two used to get along? Any chance we could go back to those days?”
“We could… but we won’t.” Bennett grins. “So, what’s up? You here to challenge me to a cornhole rematch after dinner at Mom’s tomorrow?”
“Yep. I’m in need of a win. And seeing as I’m nursing an injured ankle and a bruised ego from my prior defeat. I figured you’d take it easy on me.”
“Absolutely not,” he deadpans. “I will destroy you.”
Despite myself, I smile.
He eyes me for a beat longer, then tips his head. “Tell me why we’re really here, Lu. You could have called anyone else. Why call me?”
I sigh and glance out the window, where the parking lot is bathed in the soft gold of early evening. “I got a call from my agent.”
His brows lift. “Good news or bad news?”
I explain while Bennett listens intently. “My agent says it’s a miracle. That this kind of second chance doesn’t happen.”
“And?” he prompts. “You don’t seem thrilled.”
“I should be.”
“But you’re not.”
I shake my head, my fingers picking at the corner of a napkin. “I told him I’d think about it. That I needed to talk to my physical therapist, also known as Nash. The man I’m living with. Your brother.”
His face flashes through my mind, the warmth and vulnerability in his eyes the night we danced at the pier. The slow thawing of the gruff emergency room doctorinto a man so kind and caring and deep that I’m not sure I’ve ever met his equal.
“I’m familiar with his work.” Bennett studies me for a long moment. “So you’re talking to me instead of my brother because you’re stalling.”
I look up, meet his eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything right now. I was kind of hoping talking about it would help me figure out what I should do.”
