Amelia runs to the stairway, clearly excited. “Mommy, it’s Taylor Swift.”
“Yes. And we can listen to it down here if you want.”
She sits on the bottom step, arms crossed, clearly pouting.
“I’m going to get your pajamas. Get ready for your shower, okay?”
She pretends she doesn’t hear me.
Not wanting to fight with her, I go into the bedroom and get her pajamas. Before I’m back in the living room, the music gets exponentially louder. Amelia is also no longer on the steps, and there is light coming down the stairway.
I toss the clothes onto the couch and shake my head. “Amelia!” I yell on my way up, even though the music is too loud for her to hear me.
I follow the increasingly loud beat through the kitchen into the living room, where it appears Bug, Christian, Carter, and now Amelia are all having a…dance party?
Bug’s blue hair is a blur as she shakes her head to the beat. Christian is standing a respectable distance from Bug, supporting himself on his crutches, moving his shoulders to the beat.
And then there’s Carter.
Carter is twirling my daughter around like she’s a little ballerina. I can hear her delighted squeals even over the music.
My anger at her defiance melts away as I take it all in. There’s a longing in my gut that I try to push away. I want to ignore it—need to ignore it. Because this is all an illusion. It’s not real. It can’t be real. Not for me. Not for us.
The only reality I know is the one that has me taking Amelia and disappearing. Maybe then we can attempt to live a normal life. Change our names again if we have to. Maybe then we’d be safe. Maybe then, my dad won’t have to suffer the humiliation Cyrus has been threatening. And if he does, at least Amelia and I won’t be around for the fallout.
Before my mind races with other ways Cyrus could get to me, I’m being pulled from the doorway by Bug. “You don’twatcha dance party,” she shouts. “Youdanceat a dance party.”
I’m at a complete loss. If I go over and pick up Amelia and drag her downstairs, I’ll be the mean mom. If I stay, I have to suffer through watching Carter be all charming and fatherly as he spins my daughter around while she giggles.
The song ends and I have a brief second to ask, “Do you have these often?”
“First one,” Bug says, still attached to my arm. “Come on, Kenna. Live a little.”
First one?I look over at Carter, who tries to act all innocent as the next song starts up. The song happens to be one of my all-time favorites. “Dancing Queen.”
“Dance, Mommy!” Amelia screams from across the room.
I roll my eyes. I shake my head. I sigh big time knowing she’s got me over one hell of a barrel. I laugh at the whole situation and then say, “Oh, what the heck.”
Bug smiles when I start dancing next to her. I may not have a fancy degree. I don’t have a ton of hidden talents. I can’t play sports to save my life. But the one thing I can do well is dance.
“You’re really good,” Bug announces a minute later. Then she dances over to Amelia, takes her little hand out of Carter’s, and pulls her off to the side, showing her some ‘boogie’ moves that make Christian and Carter fall into fits of laughter.
I get lost in the song, feeling a sense of peace in the music. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt since… well, since being on the ground in the snow the other night. I close my eyes and let the music envelop me. I try to let all my worries, fears, and disappointments fall away. Even if just for a moment.
My eyes fly open when a hand touches my shoulder. Carter is staring at me.
“Dance with me.”
It’s not a question. More like a command. One I should definitely not follow.
But my body completely betrays my mind when I step closer and put my hand in his proffered one. He leads me into a dance that’s a cross between a waltz, tango, and swing. I step on his feet more than once because I haven’t a clue where he’s going with this.
He clearly has no idea what he’s doing either, yet he appears to be having the time of his life.
He lifts my arm and twirls me underneath his. I trip and fall smack dab against his chest. He steadies me against him and holds me there long after I get my footing.
Heat passes between us. And probably a few more things I’m trying to ignore. Because being this close to him—his scent permeating every cell in my body, feeling his muscles press against me, having his strong hand around mine—is waking a sleeping beast inside me.
