Page 35 of Until We Come Home

“Danny, lift through your center,” I encourage, demonstrating the extension. “And let your breath carry the movement. Yes! Just like that, gorgeous work.”

I catch sight of Lucy marking her counts in the corner, while Emmy works through the sequence near the barre, both of them throwing their whole heart into the routine. Emmy takes the floor section and goes down stiff and all at once, then stops and glances over at me with a question in her eyes.

“Fold at the hips first,” I tell her, showing her. “Then let the spine curve and spiral down. Don’t drop it, take the long way.”

She tries it again, slower, folding and letting the spiral carry her through the sequence, and comes out of it clean.

“Oh!” she gasps. “That’s so much easier.”

“Good. Let’s go again,” I say, and she goes.

All of these kids come from strict classical ballet backgrounds, aiming for professional company contracts if their dreams pan out. But taking contemporary or jazz on the side is normal for dancers at this level, extra tools in the kit.

And contemporary has its roots in ballet anyway. God knows my style does. The lines are still there, the discipline, the control it takes to make a movement look loose when it’s anything but. The difference is the freedom, the permission to be heavy and messy and human, and I want them to walk out of here with a little more confidence in what their bodies can do than they walked in with.

I’m building the choreography as we go, teaching the technique while shaping it into a piece they’ll perform at the benefit show in the fall. The intensive runs straight through to the show, so by the time they’re on that stage, they’ll have lived inside this piece for months.

They’ll close out the first act with it, something hopeful and strong for a room full of first responders and the people who came to support them, and I already feel like a proud stage mom, just watching them throw themselves at the floor.

Plus, I’ll be taking the stage myself that evening, guest-performing a new piece alongside Jada and a few other company members. Crafting that choreography has been incredible. God, it feels so damn good to be back in the studio creating like this.

The music swells toward the final count, Emmy hitting her mark while Todd leaps across the floor with everything he’s got, the entire group locking into the ending pose together. Serious, dedicated little artists. I could watch them all day.

And the truth is, this has been good for me too. Touring is my life, and I wouldn’t trade it, but it’s the first week of August already, July gone before I could blink, and the last few weeks have felt like a recharge. Walking into the same building every morning, the same faces in the hallway, actual friendships forming, the rhythm of the classes.

One bed to crash in every night instead of a different one every city. Like I’m settling. Or maybe I’m just getting older, now that I’m not twenty-one anymore and the bus bunks aren’t as charming as they used to be.

CHAPTER 8

Mateo

"We're doing a lake day," Calvin tells me through the phone, the faint TV noise of Henry's morning shows drifting in over the line. "The entire family is making it out—Alex and Isabelle are even catching a flight up from Napa so we can finally get everyone together in Washington for a change."

I balance the phone between my shoulder and ear while perched on the back bumper of the rig, stocking fresh gauze into the open medical kit and checking expiration dates. “Which lake was it again? I feel like you mentioned this last summer.”

“Hollis Lake, about half an hour out from Dark River,” Calvin explains. “And yeah, we tried setting it up last year, but you were stuck back in Boston that week. Plus, schedule conflicts kept Jack, Lark, Alex, and Isabelle from making it. But everyone can actually be in the state this time, so we’re locking it in. Just a few weeks out.”

"Makes sense," I say, continuing to organize supplies.

"Forecast looks clear, and we rented a row of cabins right on the water for the weekend," Calvin adds. "The kids have a blast, and so do the adults—boating, grilling, the whole deal. Lark asked Mia along this morning and she jumped at it, so clear your schedule if you can. It won't be the same without you."

That makes me smile. They never fail to make me feel like I belong, and Calvin always makes a point of pulling me in.

“Count me in,” I tell him. “Send over the details and I’ll swing the time off, barring a major wildland deployment or some unexpected emergency.”

“Deal,” Calvin chuckles. “Duty first, lake second. Maren and Henry are right here with me, by the way. They say hi and that they miss you.”

My smile widens. “Tell them I miss them too. Mia and Lark are shooting a dance piece up in Dark River next week, so I’ll probably head over for the afternoon to catch rehearsals. I also picked up a little wooden truck for Henry, so I’ll drop that off then.”

“He’s going to lose his mind,” Calvin says with a laugh. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll text you the location and times. Stay safe out there, man.”

“Will do,” I say, and the line clicks off.

Calvin has a tendency to worry, which, given my line of work, isn’t entirely unwarranted. I’m pulling the zipper closed on the EMS bag when the tones drop—three sharp notes echoing off the bay walls that go straight down my spine and set my legs moving, an automatic response honed over a decade on the job.

“Engine 7, Engine 4, Ladder 2, Battalion 1,” dispatch crackles over the speakers. “Residential structure fire, 1140 North 98th. Two-story single family. Caller reports thick smoke from upper windows, possible occupant trapped inside.”

Possible occupant trapped inside.