This was for her, not me.
I’d connected my phone to the bluetooth in the truck, playing country hits from my own playlist. The starting chords ofI Remember Everythingby Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves filled the air and I smiled—a favorite of mine. Perfect for a slow dance.
Hollie’s movements, though accurate, were stiff and her feet kept catching gravel.
“You okay?” I asked.
She paused then shook her head. “I feel embarrassed.”
“Of what?”
“Of letting something as simple as dancing wreck me so much.”
I shook my head. “Dancingdidn’t wreck you.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever truly enjoy it again.”
“You didn’t enjoy the last time we danced?”
A smile toyed at her lips, but she pushed it away. “I did enjoy that.”
“Because you weren’t in your head about it.”
“The things Garrett said to me make me never want to dance again.” She whispered the words under her breath, as if she was having a revelation.
“Like what? Keep saying them out loud.”
She huffed, the sound traced with annoyance. “Out loudis your favorite tactic.”
“Because it works.”
She fell quiet, not immediately answering my question. Pressing a little closer to me, she situated her head near my chin. And I moved my hand from her hip to the small of her back relishing in her familiar scent and the warmth of her body. Through the chorus and second verse, we silently danced. Then she made a sniffling sound. When she looked up at me, her eyes were watery. “He told me…”
My gaze roamed her face, committing every detail of her to memory.
“That it…” Her lips twisted and she squeezed her eyes shut. A tear leaked out, resting on the shelf of her cheek. “It embarrassed him when I got so lost that I closed my eyes.”
My brow knitted as I tried to understand. “While you danced?”
She nodded, sending that lone tear on its journey.
“The first time we met was after my winter showcase when I was a senior in high school. I had a solo and I cried while I performed. He said it was beautiful and passionate, but then later, when I danced at home, he said my emotions made him feel uncomfortable. But I didn’t know how to dance without them…” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I internalized his embarrassment. But I made it my own.”
Every single thing she said about that guy made me feel like I could drive my fist through a wall. Any woman deservedbetter than that, but the idea of Hollie being oppressed by his infantile self-absorption made my head swim with anger. He couldn’t watch hiswifebe happy, passionate, or emotional? What a cupcake.
I’d known a lot of good men who considered it their privilege to make their women the best they could be. It was smart too because a woman’s happiness contributes to the health of a relationship and Garrett was a disgusting pig if stealing her simple joys bolstered his life experience somehow.
But maybe the problem for Hollie wasn’t truly the dancing. Maybe it just signified the things he stole: her individuality, her happiness, her freedom of expression, her safety. Dancing likely felt nostalgic, a nod to her true self before Garrett carved her into a shell.
Steadying my voice, I responded, “The other day, I told Cade we are going to struggle with our hurts for the rest of our lives. I think the fear of loss will wane over time, but…it’ll always be a shadow that follows us, you know?” I swallowed, surprised by the sudden emotion in my throat.
She nodded again, squeezing me. I leaned my cheek on her forehead, thankful she wanted to be close to me. “Those losses and betrayals change the way we take up space in the world. Sometimes, they’ll be the only thing we can see, sometimes they’ll be under our feet. They’ll never really go away.” I took a shaking breath, thinking about Laurel and the way I would always ache for her. “But we can’t stop living, Hollie.”
She sniffled, burying her head in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“Our kids need to see us choosing to make something beautiful of life every single day. They’re worth that. And so are you.”
“I know you’re right.” Her tears pressed against my skin.
