Laced Steel - M.J. Fields Page 0,96
but I’m so glad it is.”
Laying in his arms I smile; he pushes my hair away from my face and I look up at him.
“You underestimated your promise,” I sigh.
“About?”
“I’m not just going to love the summer before my senior year, I’m going to fucking love it.”
He smirks, “Yeah?”
“Most definitely.”
### The End ###
Epilogue
After
TRUTH
Walking into the house after the single best night of my life, dread hangs over me like a storm cloud at an outdoor concert. I’m sure Dad will be waiting up for me. It never fails, whether I’m out alone or with the girls, he waits for me, but not if I’m with Patrick or Justice.
Heading up the stairs, my heart beats in my chest because I want to bask in the bliss, but I know I’m about to delve into disappointment.
When I see Mom is at the kitchen island, wiping it down, even though it’s clean, I feel relieved.
Smiling softly, too softly, like she knows something, as she remarks, “The flowers are beautiful.”
I nod as I lean over the counter and smell them. Then, leaning back, I tell her, “Their botanical name is impatiens bequaertii, but called Dancing Girls. They’re perfect.”
“That’s precious.” She smells them again then looks up and smiles. “How was your date?”
“Good.”
She turns around and opens the fridge. “Did you actually eat at dinner, or were you too nervous?”
“I actually ate.” I smile as I sit down.
“Room for dessert?”
Oh, dear God, I think as I literally feel my face flush.
“Maybe a water?”
“Water, it is.” She grabs two waters out of the fridge, walks back over, and sits next to me.
“So, tell me all about it.” She smiles as she pulls her feet up on the padded leather bar stool, wraps her arms around her knees, and rests her chin on them.
It’s been a long time since Mom and I have chatted like this, and it dawns on me that it’s been since my pirouette spun out of control.
She reaches over and wipes my cheek. I didn’t even know a tear had fallen.
“Talk to me, Truth.”
“We danced.” I smile and a giggle escapes. “We danced, Mom.”
After we hug and laugh together, Mom pushes my hair away from my face and tucks it behind my ear. She looks down at her finger, and I see some Tiramisu.
“Dessert.” I cringe.
She wipes it off on a napkin. “It’s been almost a year; do you think maybe you’re ready to dance on stage again?”
I couldn’t even describe what I’m feeling. It wouldn’t make sense. Overwhelmed? Terrified? Happy? “I don’t know.”
“I think you are,” she says softly. “I think maybe, as much as your father and I tried to be louder than the voices causing you to doubt yourself, it wasn’t enough. But I do see a light returning to your eyes. Your confidence coming back.”
“I miss it, Mom. I miss it so much. But there isn’t time. College auditions are just around the corner, and I’m not even close to being ready.”
Dad’s voice comes from behind me, “Get rid of the doubt, Truth. You can do this, if it’s truly what you want. You just have to do the work.”
I turn around and look at him. He’s dressed in sweats and a tank top, with slides on. Clearly, he wasn’t in bed.
My voice is shaky when I ask, “Where did you come from?”
“Just talking with Tobias outside.” He raises an eyebrow.
Fuck!
“Please tell me you were nice to him. I love him, Dad, and he and I—”
“Not doubting you do. And he’d have to be a fucking idiot to not feel the same about you. Kid who’s lived like he has and is pulling a 4.1, got a full ride to Columbia, one who faced me and didn’t lie, isn’t fucking stupid, so there’s no doubt there, either.” He scrubs his hand over his hair and sighs. “But if he’s gonna thrive in this family, he’s gonna start doing Steel Sund—”
“You have to give him time to—”
“No, I don’t. And he agreed to it. So, tomorrow morning, you get up, make some calls, get rehabbing that ankle, and get dancing.”
A lightbulb goes off in my head. “I won’t be able to go to Italy if I’m going to be ready for auditions, and I’m old enough to stay—”
“Truth, I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve been real good about what’s going down here. No matter how grown you think you are, you’re my little girl. You’ll be going to Italy for the first two weeks of summer, every summer,