A Wright Christmas

With a sigh, I rapped on the door. “Peyton?”

“Isaac?” her voice called out in confusion.

“Is there anyone else in there with you?”

“No.”

“Can I come in?”

She paused. “Yes.”

I pressed open the dressing room door and found Peyton still in costume, lying on a chaise. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she’d been crying.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Where’s Aly?”

“She left with my mom at intermission. I wouldn’t have even let her dance if it hadn’t been a responsibility. She’d been a nightmare all day.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. She had been bad in the morning, and then she got in trouble at school. So, I told her we had to cancel baking cookies with you. Then, she turned into a nightmare and had to go into time-out. It was a whole thing.” I stepped forward. “Why aren’t you out of costume?”

She blew out a heavy breath and looked at the ceiling. “We had…an incident with Katelyn.”

“Cassidy said there was high school girl drama.”

“Yes. She planted one of Bebe’s shoes in my exit wing. I tripped over it.” She sighed. “And landed on my knee.”

My eyes darted to her knee. Now that I knew, I could tell that it was swollen. “Your…hurt knee?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, Peyton. Are you okay?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. It hurt when it happened, but I ignored it to confront the girls, and now, I’m not sure I should move.”

I dropped down before her and took a look at her knee. “Did you tear it again?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not that bad. I’ll probably be fine if I ice it and take some medicine and rest. It only hurts worse than normal. I just don’t know how I’m going to drive home.”

My eyes flicked up to hers. “Worse than normal?”

She bit her lip and looked like she wanted to kick herself. “Um…”

“Your knee still hurts? I thought you’d recovered?”

“I did. I mean, I mostly did.” She winced. “I’m, like, ninety percent better. I did PT and I work out and the pain is almost always gone.”

“When does it hurt again?” I asked in horror.

She gulped. “I don’t know. When I dance…”

“Peyton…all you do is dance.”

“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes and letting tears fall down her cheeks. “I can’t quit. I can’t give it up, Isaac. I just love it too much.”

“Okay. Well, let’s not talk about quitting. Let’s get you home and see how bad it actually is. Maybe it’s just inflamed because you danced on it for a half hour.”

She nodded. “All right.”

I helped her sit up, and together, we stripped her out of her costume. As much as I wanted to admire her body, I kept myself clinical. She needed help, and I was here for her. No matter how beautiful she looked right now.

She tugged a shirt on over her head as I went to carefully lower her tights. She hissed slightly as I pulled them over her knee. It was definitely swollen. But not as bad as it had looked when obscured by the pink material. I stripped her shoes off along with the tights, helped her into a pair of sweats, and then her winter coat.

“Where’s your bag?”

Peyton pointed it out, and I grabbed it, slinging it over my shoulder. Then, I leaned down and slipped my hands under her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide.

I hauled her into the air. She gasped, and I saw pain cross her face.

“Is this okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.”

I carried her back out through the empty backstage, across the lobby, and to my truck, gently placing her on a foot at the passenger side.

“Sorry you had to carry me,” she said.

“It’s fine, Pey. You don’t weigh anything,” I said with a chuckle. “Plus, I couldn’t just leave you there.” I wiped a tear off of her cheek. “I’m going to get you home safe.”

“What about my car?”

“We’ll leave it. It’ll be fine. We can pick it up tomorrow if we have to.”

She nodded, grabbing my jacket and pulling me into her. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and held her tight to me.

“I thought you were ghosting me.”

I kissed her forehead. “That was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“I kept telling myself you weren’t that kind of guy, but then…”

“Then, I acted like a jerk,” I told her. She blinked up at me. “I just…freaked myself out. Why don’t I get you home, and we can talk then?”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

Peyton hobbled into the passenger seat, and as we pulled away from the performing arts center, snow started falling. She laughed with all the enthusiasm of a child and watched the snow with wide eyes.

“I never get tired of that first snowfall. It’s all sludge in New York afterward, but the first snow…it’s magic,” she whispered.

I reached across the console and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. We drove the rest of the way back in comfortable silence.