Holly took a deep breath, grabbed Nick’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Come on.” She grinned, towing him over to where the others were waiting. “Time for me to prove I’m a better dancer than you.”
His mouth curled at the corner with the smallest smile. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly good friendship with delusion, darling,” he told her, allowing himself to be led. Nate glanced at the pair of them as they joined the group, and Holly just shook her head in an,I’ll tell you latergesture as Nick went to join Cherry.
The silence of the audience felt almost physical, a living thing pressing against Holly’s ribs. The three remaining couplesstood in a tight line at center stage, hands clasped and shoulders squared, smiles stretched thin with tension. Above them, confetti cannons loomed like ceremonial artillery, primed for either triumph or devastation depending on where you fell in the results.
Indie stood beside them in a blaze of sequins and camera-ready chaos, vibrating with the glee only live television could produce. She lifted the mic with theatrical reverence.
“This,” she declared, voice ringing across the tv studio, “has been one of the most explosive seasons inTake the Floorhistory. Romance. Redemption.Ratings.I mean, I personally require a lie down.”
The audience rumbled in response, applause ricocheting off the roof as the final seconds stretched tight as wire. Holly braced, because if she was going to pass out on live television she at least want it to look dramatic.
“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Indie grinned wickedly. “In third place…”
A drumroll.
“…Luca and Dominique!”
Applause thundered as Luca and Dominique stepped forward. Dominique’s smile trembled but held, bright and unbreakable as she blinked back tears, while Luca pressed his forehead briefly to hers in a quiet, private acknowledgment of everything they’d built together. They bowed with the grace that only comes from having given everything you had. The crowd rose for them, a standing ovation that felt less like consolation and more like respect as they moved offstage.
Indie turned back to the remaining couples, the tension rewinding tight. Nate’s thumb brushed once against Holly’s knuckles, subtle but calm. They stood in the middle of it with sweat still cooling on her skin, and for one insane heartbeat she thought,We might not even win and it still wouldn’t matter,because the real victory was right here: the way Nate looked at her as if she’d hung the stars herself and all he’d ever wanted was permission to polish them.
“And the winners ofTake the Floorseason 12 are,” Indie purred, drawing it out until the entire country leaned forward.
Holly heard Nate draw a huge breath beside her.
“HOLLY AND NATE!”
Confetti exploded.
It burst from cannons like the ceiling had finally given up holding itself together, raining silver and gold over the floor in a glittering avalanche that made the stage lights strobe like a nightclub. Holly barely registered it as the roar of the crowd hit her like a tumbling wave she hadn’t been quite ready to catch. There was screaming, chanting, feet stamping hard enough to shake the cameras and all of it sounded distant, like she was underwater.
Everyone hugged everyone, and Holly felt Nick give her an extra squeeze that told her without words that he didn’t mind it being her and not him.
And then the floor blurred as Nate yanked her into his arms. Her feet left the ground and she laughed as he spun her like she weighed nothing. He was laughing too, the big, helpless kind, the kind that made his eyes crinkle and go bright, and she realized with a jolting tenderness that she’d never seen himthis unguarded in front of anyone else. Not even on their best nights. Not even when they’d burned the ballroom down. This was pure boyish joy, as though the teenage Nate in that photo had somehow made it all the way here with them both.
Her throat tightened. Her vision shimmered. She tried to tell herself it was just sweat and lights and confetti in her lashes, but her heart knew better.This is it,it whispered.This is the part where you finally get what you wanted and you don’t know what to do with how big it feels.
When Nate finally set her down, he didn’t let go. His hands slid to her waist, as if he was afraid the ground might betray her again. And then he leaned in, close enough that only she could hear him over the studio bedlam.
“We did it,” he said, voice rough with wonder.
Holly stared at him like he was a miracle, still trying to breathe around the truth of it. She’d nearly lost him to her own fear, having spent so long on the run that she’d been so certain love meant pain. She opened her mouth to say something smart, something cool, something like herself.
But Nate glanced around, scanning the chaos like a soldier in a parade, and then his focus snapped back to her with a sharpness that made her pulse trip. His expression shifted with intent, as though he’d remembered something that mattered more than the cameras, more than the confetti, and the screaming audience.
“C’mere,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a question.
He threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her off their mark. Not far, just a few steps sideways, into the small pocket of shadow between two camera rigs where the lights didn’t bitequite as hard. The crew still swarmed, one camera guy training his lens on them. Indie and the crowd were still going, but Nate moved like this moment had narrowed down to one thing and one thing only.
Her.
“Are you okay?” Holly asked, a laugh still caught in her throat.
“Yeah,” Nate swallowed. His jaw flexed like he was bracing for a hit, and for a second she saw the old Nate flicker behind his eyes. The man built out of impact and punishment. Then it cracked, and what was underneath was raw and almost shy. “Just take this.”
He reached carefully into the inside pocket of his tux, and handed her a photo.
