My name comes out gruff. “I’m not trying to prove anything. This is about me moving forward with my life.”
He flinches, and there’s a flicker of confusion that quickly turns sharp. “Your life? Did I miss something? I thought that is what we were doing. Building our life together, laying the foundation for our future. This isn’t one of your auditions.”
Something in the way he says this hits a nerve, and I have no control over my reaction. “You know nothing about my auditions or the cut-throat world I live in. Dancing is my life! It always has been. It’s all I’ve ever had, even during my darkest times! What is your problem? You should encourage me to push harder, get better, work myself to the bone so I can dance again! You have a fucking mortgage on a building riding on my recovery!”
My mistake washes over me immediately. The onset of raw pain in his eyes claws at my heart, making my legs wobble.
“If that’s what’s in your mind, then you haven’t been paying attention. Let me try to set things straight. You asked if it bothered me, and the answer is no because I’ve never once thought of you as crippled. How you came up with that beats me. When you fall asleep on the sofa, I want to carry you to bed. It has nothing to do with the brace, the boot, or your capabilities. Leaving you alone worries me, but not because you’ll get hurt. You have an unstable and fucking whacked sister roaming around untraceable. She’s been quiet, which could mean anything.”
My head is screaming at me to apologize, but I can’t form words over the lump in my throat.
“You should know this, too. When Darby had her miscarriage, I did everything in my power to educate myself on what she was going through. The physical aspect was all biology, but the mental and emotional complications were terrifying. What I learned helped guide me through. Same thing with Mom. After her fall, I researched her injuries to understand the next steps. Her situation was more physical impairment than emotionally scarring.”
A wave of nausea rolls in my stomach as pain slices through my chest, knowing what’s coming.
“Witnessing your fall, confirming your injuries, seeing the devastation firsthand shook my fucking world, Poppy. You have no idea what helpless feels like until the woman you love mourns for so many losses at once. I did the only damn thing I could do and armed myself with all the knowledge available on your injuries and recovery. Regardless of what you think, or tell Rexwell, I don’t consider myself an expert. My purpose has always been to support and encourage. Today, in that office, it became clear you’re working with your own agenda. Somewhere along the way, my protective nature interfered. He’s the doctor, you’re the patient. This is your body and your decision. Push your limits, prove to yourself and anyone else you’re trying to impress. I already think you’re incredible. I may not know what it’s like to lose my independence, but swear to Christ I’d switch places with you. Especially if it meant you could live out your dream of dancing on that stage again.
“Ryanne and Dante are here if you need anything.”
With that, he’s gone and I’m left staring at the door in conflict. What just happened? Should I go after him? Out of the corner of my eye, there’s motion.
“How much did you hear?”
“Everything since you walked in,” Ryanne answers softly.
“He took everything I said the wrong way.”
Their silence is deafening, and when I dare look at them, it’s obvious why.
“Pips, we love you, but there was no way to misinterpret what you said. How long have you been unhappy?”
“Unhappy? I’m not unhappy. I’m anxious to resume some sort of normalcy without depending on others.”
“That’s why you went to Charleston, to have the support of family around. They want to help. No one considers it a burden.”
“Everyone goes out of their way to do things for me. I miss the freedom of spontaneity. Hell, it would be awesome to seduce my husband and not stop to remove a brace. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, but that’s not what you said. It sounded like he was under the impression your routines and lives were taking shape. He’s thrilled you’re together every night, the improvements and additions to your home, the place you’ve made with his family, and the interest you’ve taken in his business. You flat out told him those things are menial and give you no purpose.”
“That’s not at all what I meant!” I defend. “He’s convinced I’m pushing too hard, and that was me telling him there’s so much more in me.”
“Think about what you said, every word. You delivered a low, brutal blow by throwing the mortgage on that building in his face. He didn’t deserve that.”