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Sky laughs derisively. “You have no idea.”

I close my eyes and steel myself for rejection. Looking back, I don’t want to regret letting my pride get in the way. Losing him twice is unimaginable. “Can we change that? We can start as slow as you want, calls or just texts to get to know each other.”

He’s quiet, letting the question hang there between us, an unpinned grenade.

“Maybe. I’ll think on it,” Sky says, and hangs up before I can respond.

Chapter 6

Skylar Engelhardt/ Lark Angel

I curl into a ball and stay that way for an eternity, sleeping on and off until it’s time to teach the next morning.

The girls are rowdy, all glittery with the scent of fruit shampoos and syrup lingering in the air. They’ve had their sugar, and it shows. I’m strung out and showing weakness.

“You look like doggie doo,” one quips, and her BFF piles on.

“Did you get hit in the face? You’re really puffy.”

“I have a secret.” My shy student links her fingers and twists her torso.

“Secrets shouldn’t be shared. They are between you and the person who told you.” We stretch, keeping the focus on dance.

My mind drifts to Mav, and the girls call me out when I forget a sequence in their recital dance. A couple of moms give me the stink eye from the bench in the waiting room, aka the entryway. My focus needs an ass-kicking.

Old Mav would’ve never called me after seeing my site. I can’t decide if it’s a dream or a nightmare. There’s no way I can pretend his betrayal didn’t kill me.

Skylar has been dead for years, and I don’t need him anymore. Which means I don’t need Maverick. I’ll block his number after class and be done with this glitch in the matrix.

“Okay, ladies. You worked hard, and your reward is to leave”—I extend my arm pretending to consult a watch—“two minutes and fifteen seconds early.” The girls cheer. “But you need to stretch before you leave.”

They groan, understanding that their leaving early was a ruse. The girls flop around, complaining about simple stretches. “See you next Saturday.” I wave both arms and laugh. These girls are the best medicine for my bruised heart. They’re so dramatic and put life in perspective.

“Mr. Lark.” My shy one stands behind me. “What if the secret is about you? Can I tell you?”

Her face is so innocent, but my soul leaves my body thinking she’s discovered my “other” business. Pushing the panic aside, I sink to my knees and offer her my hand. “Sure, sweetie, you can tell me.”

“Mom said it’s a secret unless you tell us.” Her petite fingers fold over my hand.

My head’s whirling, and I’m three seconds from passing out. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

She leans in, smelling of strawberry shampoo. “You met Patrik Lisko.” She hides her smile behind her hand.

I put my finger to my lips. “I may or may not have met Mr. Liska,” I say, emphasizing the A at the end of his name. “What did you hear?” I ask, shielding my mouth, mimicking telling secrets.

“Mom saw a picture of you online with him.” She giggles.

I giggle too and close my eyes as my heart rate decreases and my soul returns. “It’s a little secret, not a big one. You can tell people.” You’ll never catch me turning down more business teaching adults how to dance. I’ve had a few DMs referencing the pic, asking if I choreograph wedding dances, which I’ve ignored. I peer over my shoulder. “Your mom’s waiting.”

“Byeeeee.” She throws her arms around my neck and runs off yelling, “You know famous hockey players.” Her mom turns bright red, and I salute her as payback for the stink eye she gave me earlier.

I collapse flat on the hardwood floor and glance at my pathetic self in the mirror wall. It shouldn’t bother me that my other job could damage the Enforcers. Someone had to realize they were hiring adult entertainment. There’s nothing for me to regret.

I’m a big fat liar.

There’s only one person I can call who will understand this and not make it more complicated. I dial before overthinking it.

“Hello,” says an unfamiliar, gruff voice.