His face grows serious. I know he has some experience with that kind of thing. “What kind of feeling?”
I shake my head because I’m having trouble describing it. “I don’t know. Like something’s wrong—”
His eyes snap to mine. “You think Millie’s in danger?” Luka has some PTSD from Lily’s accident just like I do, but his is worse in some ways. I’m not surprised his head is going to worst-case scenario.
I blow out a heavy breath. “I really don’t know, man. It could just be from her being mad at me and maybe my subconscious doesn’t believe she’s forgiven me. Or it could be something else entirely. That’s the problem, I just don’t freaking know.”
“Hopefully tonight gives you some clarity.”
That’s what I’m hoping too, but I’m also worried it won’t. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you keep searching until you figure out what it is. If Lily, Stella, and Wyatt’s situations have taught us anything, it’s to listen to our guts. It’s screaming at you for a reason, Rowan. You just have to listen to it.”
I’ve never experienced anything like this before, which is why I’m hoping it’s just my guilty conscience and nothing more. “What if I can’t figure out what it’s telling me?”
He reaches over and slaps his hand on top of my shoulder, squeezing it tightly for just a second before releasing it. “You will, brother. When the time is right, you’ll know.”
I really hope he’s right, because this rock sitting in my stomach is only growing heavier.
“Let me know how tonight goes?”
I nod my head in confirmation. “Will do. Have fun with Lily, brother.”
He looks up at the clock and must realize it’s time to pick Lily up from the coffee shop. He hops up from the couch and hurries towards his room. “And hey, Rowan?”
I turn around and look at him, “Yeah?”
“Trust your gut. It hasn’t led you astray yet.”
“Thanks, man.” The problem is I have no idea what it’s telling me.
I wring my hands together and pop up on my toes, moving my legs up and down in a warmup move I usually save for the ice. My nerves are high, just like before a big game.
My feet drop down to the ground and I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Class starts in two minutes, and she’s still not here.
“Mr. Pierce, if you need a partner just let me know and I can see what we can do.”
I look over at the kind, older woman, who’s probably been salsa dancing since she was old enough to walk, and smile. “That won’t be necessary, she should be here any minute.” At least I hope.
I’ve never been stood up, but this is feeling suspiciously close to that. Just as I look at my phone again, debating if it would be completely pathetic to call her, I feel a hand wrap around my forearm.
I look up to find a frazzled but breathtakingly beautiful Millie St. James.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“Are you okay?” Her eyes are wide and she’s breathless, like she ran all the way here.
Her smile is a little sad when she says, “I’m better now.”
“What happened?”
Her eyes dart to the side, her face pinched in distress. I reach for her, unable to hold myself back. “Daredevil? What’s wrong?”
She closes her eyes; when she opens them, the sadness from moments before has cleared. “Nothing’s wrong. I was juststressed from running late. I’m excited to dance.” She looks over to where the instructor has already started lining couples up to start. “Let’s go.” Her voice lifts, any remnant of worry gone.
I smile because I’m so damn relieved that she’s here, that she didn’t stand me up, but in the pit of my stomach something stirs. As she starts pulling me towards the other couples, I try to let the feeling go, promising myself I’ll ask her about it later.
She’s giddy with excitement and anticipation that would be contagious if I wasn’t so worried about not making a complete fool of myself and giving it away that I really have two left feet and no sense of rhythm.
