“Evin!” She glances to each side, her cheeks turning pink.
“Dead serious. All day, I’ve been thinking about peeling you out of these clothes. Threading my hands through your hair while deep inside you.”
Her eyes heat with undeniable hunger. “You like the hair.”
“Always, baby.” My dick goes hard, thinking about the last time she did a makeover.
She giggles, grinding her hips and whispering against my lips. “I love the shed, honey, but can we go home tonight? We have a tree to decorate, and I’m feeling exceptionally bossy.”
“We’re leaving now.”
“Incoming!” is shouted right before Dev’s little body slams back into my leg, his arms circling my calf.
She throws her head back laughing and something deep inside me stirs. Even after the events of the day where she relived all that happened years ago, Poppy is completely unshaken.
Flawless Flower Child.
Chapter 40
Poppy
My insides quake as we pass through the employee entrance. The closer we get to the stage, the slower I move.
“Baby, tell me what to do.” Evin squeezes my hand.
“It’s an eerie déjà vu. I sometimes spent seven days a week within these walls. Now, I feel like a stranger.”
He stops, stepping in front of me, and tips my chin upwards. “If you’re not ready, we’ll reschedule.”
“Sweetie, it’s been four and a half months. It’s time.”
“Want me to carry you?”
I give him a small smile. “Last time I was carried off and then wheeled out. Today, it’s important for me to walk.”
His eyes glow with understanding and support as he bends to kiss me. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. We stay this way, him giving me the time to gather myself. “I’m ready.”
Together, we walk toward the offices, my stomach coiling for a different reason. It’s too quiet. The training room is usually bustling this time of day. We haven’t seen one soul or heard a peep. The side of the stage comes into view, sending my heart racing, and then a loud whistle zings through the air.
I freeze, my eyes bulging out of the sockets, and a low squeak escapes. A crowd is gathered around the pool, and when I’m in full view, cheers erupt.
Dancers, performers, staff, trainers, choreographers—everyone associated with the show is waiting. My hands fly to my mouth as my Cirque family swarms around, engulfing me. I hug, kiss, and shout my excitement until my voice is gravelly and throat is raw. There are a handful of dancers I’ve kept in touch with some, mostly through text, but I haven’t seen anyone since my hospital stay.
All my nerves and jitters fade away. When I’ve greeted everyone and have room to breathe, I find Evin and Dante off to the side. Their stances are the same—arms crossed, legs planted, bodies solid, and eyes on me.
I fly across the short distance, throwing myself at Dante.
Because of circumstances out of his control and staff illnesses, he canceled his travel plans for New Year’s. It’s been five weeks since he left Charleston at the beginning of the Tasha debacle.
“Good to see you, Pips.” He jiggles me.
“You, too.”
“Hey! Are you crushing my talent before I can assess her?” Cal’s voice booms from behind us, and Dante sets me on my feet.
“He’d have to do a lot more than that,” I assure him, leaning in for a quick hug.
“Good to see you, Poppy. You ready for this?”
“More than ready.”
“The preppy doctor gave me the latest report. Don’t expect kid gloves.”
“Wrong thing to say, man,” Evin grumbles.
Cal and Evin formally met in the hospital and then again when we were here in November for my appointment with Dr. Rexwell. Both times were tense, but today, Evin is relaxed and grinning lightheartedly.
“I’m eager to get it underway. Have you seen the videos I sent?”
“I’ve seen you walking on your hands like a zoo animal. Let’s see what you can do on your feet.”
After the new year, I began strict personal training, going back to basics and incorporating the years of routines that focused on strength. For the last two weeks, Jesse’s been sending videos of my routines to show Cal and the other trainers my progress. I’m still an employee of the company and have an obligation to report progress.
Throughout the scandal with Tasha, one thing we could keep under wraps was the plans for the dance studio. Dante and I need to appear one-hundred percent dedicated to Cirque and my return. Regardless of my plans, Dante needs anonymity for his career.
I scoff, feigning offense. “Please, that was perfect form.”
“For a gymnast,” he jokes.
My eyes narrow, shooting him a daring glare.
“See you in the training center. You’re mine for two weeks.” He smiles sadistically, tipping his chin to Evin and heading backstage.
Dante follows, leaving Evin and me to the solitude of the stage.
“It was weird at first, but now it feels like home.”