It smelled incredible, and Teddy could tell Finn was eager to taste the creation. He was probably the type who could eat anything and never gain a pound.
Unlike Teddy, who didn’t need something this rich when he should be watching his diet. He’d always had to be strict with himself to stay fit, which had been easier as a dancer, always moving, but now….
Teddy frowned at getting up in his head again. Why was he doing that, distracted and feeling sorry for himself right when he had something good in his grasp?
“Something wrong?” Finn asked, since Teddy was supposed to be flipping the pot stickers for the final simmer, but he’d stopped.
“Sorry. It’s not you. Not this. This”—he gestured between them, at Finn being there, and even had to glance into the living room at Smudge and Nora playing—“this is really good. It’s just me.”
“Erina’s show? Your hip?”
“All of the above.” Teddy finished flipping the pot stickers and turned down the burner. “I guess a bad day is hard to shake. I know you know that, but I’m still sorry. I don’t want you feeling guilty about the other night. You needed it, more than I have any right to complain about being a little sore and sorry for myself.”
“That’s not fair.” Finn moved to stand closer to him. “One person’s pain isn’t more valid than another’s. You just need to recapture what you lost.”
“That’s what I can’t do. You’re helping me recover, and that’s great, but you can’t help me dance again.”
“What would you call earlier with Frankie?”
“A ball change and a box step are not the level I was used to. You can’t turn back time for me.”
“No, I can’t,” Finn said, leaning against the island parallel to Teddy. “It sucks, and it’s going to suck for a long time. In fact, it might always suck because dance is always going to be something you love and miss and can’t do anymore the way you used to.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it.” Teddy swallowed through a thickening in his throat.
“Do you want me to sugarcoat it? I could tell you it’s going to get easier and better, but that might not be true. What I can do is help you figure out what you want the next chapter of your life to be.”
“Is that part of your physical therapy degree?” Teddy snorted.
“Sometimes. Do you want to know why I’m a physical therapist? Because it has nothing to do with liking physical therapy.”
“I thought… because of your father,” Teddy said, glad that this time, Finn’s expression didn’t darken quite as much at the mention.
“That was part of it, but I do what I do because I like people. I like helping someone realize something about themselves they didn’t believe was possible, surpass insurmountable odds, even if all that means is getting across a room a little easier—or doing a ball change.” He grinned. “I foster pets for the same reason. Because I love seeing the joy on someone’s face when they get paired with the perfect cat or dog. That joy, those brief but important moments, they’re why I do what I do.
“What was it for you?”
“Huh?” Teddy startled at the question.
“What made you love dancing?” Finn restated.
“Oh. I guess….” Teddy unfocused his gaze, trying to think of the answer, and ended up closing his eyes as he recalled the last time he’d truly danced and lost himself in the movement. “Those moments when everything else faded away and it was just me and the motion.”
Finn’s silence made Teddy open his eyes, finding him smiling. “And what made you love it when you were showing someone else?”
“I didn’t always love that,” Teddy admitted, “but I suppose… getting one of them to find that moment, too, seeing it on their faces, in their body, until there was nothing but the dance.”
“You can still have that,” Finn said.
“Frankie—”
“For more than just Frankie.”
Teddy turned to poke at the pot stickers so none of them stuck to the pan but glanced back over his shoulder. “How? I can’t teach if I can’t show.”
“Says who? Teach me something.” Finn pushed from the island. “Right now. Something more complicated than what you taught Frankie, without showing me what to do.”
“What?” That was impossible.
