She ground her teeth at him. “And what are they in it for? Do they want to see pirouettes?”
“I suspect they want to get a good look at those dance bottoms.”
She made a growl at the back of her throat and he laughed again.
Chapter 18
TJ had to laugh at her. There just weren’t that many options. She’d given him funny looks when she’d woken up in his arms a few mornings ago. So he figured throwing her to the ground and having his way was out of the question. Never mind the physical limitations he was operating under.
So he’d teased her. And thanks to the gods above that he had enough movement in his legs now to both hide and ease the pressure lurking there.
What the hell was she thinking, prancing around with her long midriff entirely bare? She had unmarked skin, and a tiny, perfect belly button. He didn’t need to know that. That outfit had played her curves to perfection, too. Damned women.
He considered hiring a professional to help him relieve his ‘needs,’ back when this whole fiasco had started. However, if that ever hit the press, that would be beyond bad. The guys had already talked to him more than once about his escapades. It would be a mess, no doubt. And if he hired a girl, then it was bound to wind up somewhere, some day.
So he had no relief. And Norah was dancing like the devil was at her heels. He knew why he went to therapy every day. But Norah had stopped coming with him. He found he missed having her there. Though she’d seen him fall repeatedly, she’d been watching, and that alone made him get up more than once.
Now she was always at her studio. She said she was calling clients and budgeting and balancing the books. But she left in leotards and dance gear, and she returned looking like she’d been through her paces.
He didn’t see her eat much either. He wasn’t sure if that was part of being a dancer, or if it had more to do with the fact that she was sad. She had been since the other night when she’d cried her eyes out in his arms. Twice he had caught her in tears with no ready explanation.
Once he heard her behind her bedroom door and asked if she was all right.
Norah had only replied with, “Go away, TJ.”
That hadn’t been acceptable and so he pushed. “Norah, tell me what’s going on.”
“I haven’t worked through my five stages of grief yet. Leave me alone.”
Even now he had to laugh at that one. There was something in her tone of voice that had told him she was sad but mostly whole. So he left her to cry it out as she asked.
She was more contemplative now, telling him that she had to make a decision this year about whether to keep the studio or sell it. When he’d asked her what she’d do if she sold it, she shrugged. “That’s part of the decision.”
She saddled up and rode Thunder more often, too, walking him down the driveway and out the gate. The Norah he knew left the yard by sailing her horse over the back fence. Then he realized that maybe he’d had it backward all this time. Maybe this was better.
So he teased her—just to lighten her up a little—and she teased back.
He pointed out that she was gone a lot.
She pointed out that she was leaving in four weeks. The summer would be over and she would move back in with her Dad and TJ would have the place to himself. So maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t around so much right now.
TJ was shocked that made him so uptight.
He’d wanted the place to himself. He hadn’t wanted her, or anyone, here at all. He wasn’t sure when that had changed, or when she had started drifting back to a life of her own.
So when JD called and invited them over for dinner TJ accepted, only later to realize that he shouldn’t have accepted for her. He found her in her room, reading.
“Norah.”
She looked up, so different looking with her hair down and curling around her face. She so often wore it pulled back that this was a rarity.
“JD called and he and Kelsey invited us to dinner. I said ‘yes’ unless you have other plans?”
She shook her head.
That was the end of it. Another conversation where she hadn’t said a word to him.
But that evening, she said she didn’t feel well, but she’d drive him. He refused. He didn’t want to put her out if she was sick, and they could just go another night.
Norah spent a good portion of the time in her room. He ate by himself, then watched TV until the doorbell rang.
He was actually getting pretty good at popping himself in and out of his chair. Of course these days it was much easier with a little help from his legs. They didn’t just hang there anymore, dead weight fighting him. Now they moved, he could put them where he wanted them even if he still had to bear his weight on his arms.
He opened the door to find Kelsey with a huge envelope in her hands.
“Hey Kelsey. Did you leave my brother at home alone with six kids?”
She nodded. “Yes, and he loves it.”
As much as he and his brother looked alike, there were some things about JD that he would never understand.
“Here. Look at these.” With that, she pulled out a chair at the dining room table and started spreading out prints of Norah dancing.
His eyes were drawn to photo after photo. Damn, but the woman was graceful. He’d seen her whack her knees, elbows, and toes around here, just like anyone else, but clearly she wasn’t just like anyone else.
Her head tilted at just the right angle. Her arms framed her face in an oval that was just imperfect enough to be beautiful. Her legs extended to angles far beyond human, but she made them all look natural.
One photo grabbed him. She was simply standing. But Norah never simply stood. Her feet were pressed tight against each other, one tucked right alongside the other. Her posture was perfectly straight, while somehow still looking a little weighted. Her hands were drawn up alongside her face and her eyes closed as though she had decided to nap right there in the fluffy knit of her sleeves.
“She looks sad to me.” Kelsey’s words echoed the thoughts in his head.
TJ only nodded. He didn’t add, I wonder what she was thinking about. He didn’t want to tell, uncertain if any of them knew about Norah’s husband and baby boy.
“The rest are amazing. She’s flawless.” Kelsey pulled the one photo aside. “I like it, but it’s not what I would hang in a dance studio.”
She said goodnight and kissed his cheek—a sweet sisterly kiss that she had to bend over to give these days.
After she left, Norah emerged from her room. “Is she gone?”
TJ frowned. “Yes.” But he picked up the one photo and brought it with him. “She dropped these off. She said you should start picking some out, so that she can get them framed and ready before the students arrive.”
Norah just looked the photo over, somehow with no expression on her face. “She’s amazing. These always seem to be art as much as portraits.”
So he started it. “You look so sad.”
“Yes, I do.” She set the photo aside on the arm of the couch and ended it. Curling herself into a tight ball tucked into the corner of the sofa, she looked up at him. “Do you want to watch something?”
TJ ignored the question. “Kelsey said she hopes you’re feeling better and she invited us over for next week.”
Norah just shook her head.
“You don’t think you’ll be better by then.”
Her smile was wry. “I’m not sick. I just can’t go over there anymore.”
“The baby?” Maybe he had pushed her too far.
“I’ve been admitting a lot of things to myself these past days.” She started, staying tucked behind the knee she was hugging. “I don’t forgive you for driving drunk.”
He tensed, waiting for her condemnation. It would be less than he probably deserved.
She continued. “I don’t have to, there’s nothing to forgive. That’s all about you. I’m getting there on forgiving the man who killed them.”
She didn’t e
laborate on ‘them,’ she didn’t need to. The breath he’d been holding let out.
She took a breath in, “And while I’m admitting things to myself, I realized that I can’t be around Kelsey and JD anymore.”
“What did they do?” The rest had made sense, up until that.
She looked up at him, a grin on her face even though she looked close to tears. “Don’t you see it? I’m jealous.”
It hit him like a fist in the gut. “You still have a thing for JD?”
She laughed out loud at that one. A laugh like he hadn’t heard out of her in a while. “Don’t be stupid.”
The relief that flooded him was overwhelming, but he didn’t question it. He was just supremely grateful that Norah thought it would be stupid for him to think she still carried a torch for his brother.
She got herself together enough to explain. “I’m jealous of what they have. All these years, I never admitted to myself that I was lonely. And those two are the worst. They’ve been married, what? Six years?”
He nodded. “Almost seven.”
“And they still hold hands, run off and make out in the hallway, act like they just met. I’d be jealous of anyone falling in love, but they’re worse.”
Before he could respond she picked herself up off the couch. Saying good-night to him, she disappeared down the hallway.
Chapter 19
TJ’s breath fought its way out of him. His weight was on his arms. They were working doubly hard pushing up on the walker because he was trying to allow some weight onto his legs. And his legs kept collapsing underneath him, leaving his arms to support his full weight, often at a moment’s notice.
He threw his weight forward over the front bar, balancing and relieving some of the pressure. His arms were close to shaking. He just lay there and breathed for a few moments, regathering his strength.
He was halfway down the hall, his chair behind him. He would have to turn around and get back just before he could sit again. He hadn’t thought the day would come when that damnable chair would look good to him, but here it was.
He was also alone in the house. So there was no one to call out for, no one to come fetch him if he didn’t, or couldn’t, make it. Granted, that person would have been Norah, and at this point he figured that would keep his mouth good and shut. He would make it back. He just had to.
TJ pushed back up, willing his legs to work. They seemed to simply quit when they got tired, and they got tired very quickly. The first time it happened he had gone insane, thinking he’d pushed too hard and snapped something vital.
But he was going to walk again. He was going on stage with Wilder. For a moment, he simply blessed Brenda, their manager. When he’d had his accident, she started canceling the tour. He’d found out earlier today from JD she’d actually only cancelled the first four month’s dates. She’d cancelled another two later. But that put him on the road in just over three months.
He had to be walking, running, and singing at full volume by then. He’d never realized what kind of physical shape that required until he’d lost it. But he was not going to have Brenda canceling any more performances.
He heard the click and slide of the key in the front lock, and knew he was caught.
“TJ?” Norah hollered for him. He was usually pretty quick in the chair. Hanging on his walker this way, snails would beat him handily.
He didn’t yell back, she’d find him soon enough. It took all of about three seconds.
“TJ! Are you on that thing again?”
He didn’t answer that. It had to be obvious.
She’d said she was going to the studio, but he hadn’t seen her leave. She looked like she’d had a good workout. With good reason, he turned the tables. “What the hell are you wearing?”
She frowned at him. “Dance clothes.”
“Are those mine?”
She was wearing men’s underwear. In public.
“No!” She looked at him like he was crazy. She who was wearing not boxers—which he might have accepted—but boxer briefs. “They’re mine.”
Like that solved all the worlds ills. “Norah.”
“What?”
“I live with you, and that’s indecent here. I can’t believe you wore that in public.”
“I just went to the dance studio and back. Lots of dancers wear these, and I’m more covered than I am in a bikini. I’ve worn far less on stage.”
All valid points. All missed the point. He groaned.
She parried. “Since when did you become the decency police?”
He opened his mouth.
She put words in it. “I’ve seen photos of you with your tongue down some girl’s throat. And that girl was usually wearing far less than I am right now.”
His arms hurt. His head hurt. “I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea about you.”
She walked away, her ass hugged by burgundy rib knit. The waistband read Hanes plain as day. She threw her last line at him over her shoulder. “Shut-up, Pot.”
“Thanks, Kettle.”
All of ten minutes later, she returned, scrubbed clean, her wet hair combed back. At least she was fully dressed in jeans and a tank top. All of it clung to her slender form.
He was half-way turned around. TJ had taken to locking his knees in order to hold his weight while he moved the walker in a semi-circle one agonizing inch at a time.
She squeezed by him. “So.”
“So?”
“You’re only supposed to be on that thing for ten minutes at a time.” Her hands were on her hips and she was planted between him and his chair. “So, if you’re going to defy your orders, you should at least plan ahead and lie to me about what they were.” She held out her arms. “Come on.”
He barked out a good laugh. “What? You’re going to carry me?”
She rolled her eyes at him. The gesture looked so young on her scrubbed face. There wasn’t a trace of makeup on her, and she looked even younger than she was. “No. I’m going to support you while you brace your hands against the wall. Then I’m going to take your walker and bring your chair to where you can sit down.”
“No, you’re not.”
She pressed her lips together. “You’d already been at it for a while when I got here. You were worn out then. It’s been another ten minutes while I was in the shower. You’re done.”
“Norah, I’m just going to my chair.”
Her mouth set. And just like that she walked away. Only she didn’t just walk away. She grabbed the handles on his chair and wheeled it down the hall away from him.
“Hey!”
But she kept going. Leaving him stranded there with nothing but the walker. Maybe it would be a good time to find the wall and slide down it.
He heard her before he saw her. She had brought the chair full circle around the house, arriving close enough behind him to practically bump him in the knees. TJ wondered if she knew that he’d locked them. That, if she did bump them, he’d collapse right into the chair.
She didn’t bump him.
With a heaving sigh, he sat. He’d known he was caught the moment he’d heard her at the front door.
Norah had the decency not to do anything more for him. She just squeezed around the chair and took the walker-from-Hades away. It didn’t fold up, even though it resembled an old man’s frame walker. It was made for rehab, and was far sturdier.
For a moment he wished she would do more for him, his arms were worn out. They didn’t want to push the wheels. Hell, he needed to go back to his motor chair. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden in the thing. He let his head tip back and just tried to breathe.
Returning to the end of the hallway after putting the walker away, Norah stood with her hands on her hips. She cocked her head and faced him, making him think it was some kind of shootout. Although with his head resting against the back of the chair, it probably looked like she’d already shot him dead.
He wasn’t prepared for the smile she gave him. Or for
the question, “What’s your deadline?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a deadline, even if you just gave it to yourself. That’s why you’re pushing so hard. So, when is it?”
He hated her for being able to read him like that. She probably also saw his muscles trembling from the exertion. He desperately wanted to at least roll down the hallway with some dignity. By force of will, he straightened his back. “Just over three months. We have tour dates then.”
“Wow.”
He waited for her to leave, so he could slump back into his seat, but she didn’t. Her hands stayed perched on her hips, and she looked like a dancer even in that pose. A small smile played across her face, and she walked up to him only to pass him by and take the handles of his chair. For the first time, she pushed him.
He closed his eyes, trying to concede defeat. But she pushed him to his bedroom, and turned back the covers. Without asking and with no further fuss, she pulled one of his arms across her shoulders and supported him over to the bed.
He was too stunned to do anything. Norah made him do for himself. Norah, who had him carry things for her and made silent demands that he be useful, was pulling off his shoes. Her fingers reached for his waist and tugged at his shirt.
Holy shit.
If she was offering herself he was going to use every last ounce of strength to scream in pure agony. There was no way he could perform now. Although if she wanted him to never overwork himself again, that would be the way to achieve it.
She pulled his shirt up and over his head with little help from him. TJ just waited, wondering what rabbit hole he had fallen down.
Laying him out across the bed, Norah pulled his legs straight, and puffed a pillow behind his head. “I’ll be right back.”
The ceiling mocked him as he lay there, too exhausted to move, every muscle beyond his will power.
She waltzed back into the room with some red and blue bottle in her hand, she was already flipping the lid and pouring something into her palm. “Now, this isn’t going to happen again.”
He just wished to hell that he knew what this was.
Love Notes Page 9