by Nana Malone
"Is that how you really feel?"
Tate scrubbed his hands down his face and started to pace. How was he supposed to break this kind of news? Tell his brother he was in love with his ex. "I need to tell you something."
"Fuck you and what you need to tell me. The truth is you've always been jealous of me. Everything you name, I was better at. I even got the girl you wanted. And you couldn’t stand it. I'm going go see her again. Maybe tap that and it will drive you fucking nuts."
"No. You won’t, because she's my girlfriend."
Donovan's mouth opened. Then shut. Opened again. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm sorry Donovan, but Cara and I are seeing each other. I wanted to tell you myself before it got serious."
Rage and disbelief. They warred for dominance in Donovan's eyes.
"She's mine, you know. You know she's the one who got away."
The guilt swirled around Tate's spine. Deep down, he knew why Donovan had started to spiral out of control. It all started when he suspected Cara had feelings for someone else. He'd imploded. For once, he'd lost to someone else. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It just happened."
Donovan charged at him but stopped just short of hitting him, eyes wide and wild, his jaw clenched tight. "I at least hope that pussy is so good it's worth trashing our relationship. She's a fucking stripper so I guess she's not so much the virgin anymore, right? Man, what I wouldn’t do to have the whore version of her."
Tate's hands balled into fists, but he snapped the control back. "I'm not going to listen to you say any more shit about her. That stops today. You want to be pissed at me, you want to take it out on me? Fine. But you don't say another fucking word about Cara."
"Or what, big brother? Or what?" Donovan shoved at Tate's shoulders. Just like when they were kids, Tate shoved back. He'd seen the next move coming. But his brain refused to believe it. Donovan's fist came at him with alarming speed and clipped his chin. Tate stumbled back and stared as his brother left the office.
Or I will fucking choose, and you might be on the losing end of that situation.
11
She didn’t want to do this. Cara stared at the door of Brooks Auditorium and gave some decent consideration to turning back. The hell you will. You’ve danced your whole life for this opportunity. But she was terrified.
The plaguing thoughts of what happened last time kept filtering through her head. What if Donovan being an obsessive asshole had saved her from knowing she wasn’t good enough? After all, those who can’t, teach. Right?
Stop being a pussy and get your ass in there. You said you wanted this dream, now fight for it.
Tate had gotten this for her. To give her part of her dream. To make up for the one Donovan stole.
She wanted it. There was no point in being here if she wasn’t going to grasp it.
She watched as other dancers strode into the building with confidence, with their familiar graceful gait. This is the golden ticket. You can do this.
Fuck it, she was here; she just wished Tate had been able to come with her. But he'd been called into some emergency meeting at the office.
He'd promised to text her to wish her luck. So far no text. See, this was the problem. Already she was too dependent on the guy. He's already done this for you. It's your turn to make it happen.
She picked up her bag and dusted off the gravel and rocks. It was now or never. Part of her preferred never. After all, if it was never, then she could always talk about the dream instead of the failure.
Following two dancers in front of her, she walked up the stairs to the audition building as she clutched her phone. Come on Tate, please call. Please text.
So what if she was dependent on him? That didn’t matter to her right now. That's only because you want him as your crutch. Whatever.
Once inside, she took out her dance shoes and slipped them over her feet. Normally if it were just a class, she might have worn some half soles or something.
At the registration desk, she picked up her number and pinned it to her top. From her count, there were over a hundred and fifty girls in the room. All of them looking for that one spot. And these were just the ones she could count here. If they didn’t see anything they liked, they'd keep auditioning more girls.
Tossing her bag into a corner, Cara joined the large group on stage for the introductions from the choreographer, Darren Chris. He'd danced with all the big music tours and pop stars and even did a stint in Vegas with one of the biggest pop stars around. He'd done commercials, but before all that, he was a regular on Broadway. He also didn’t fuck around. His choreography had won him an Emmy. So there was that.
"Listen up ladies." He snapped his fingers in the air and everyone went dead silent. "You will have thirty minutes to learn the combination and then it will be time to audition. Do not disappoint me. If you are here, it’s because someone important thinks you have talent. Do not disappoint them."
No. She wouldn't be disappointing Tate today. She took her position in the front right and steeled herself. It was going to be a long day.
Now or never. Cara stood with the ten other dancers in the break down groups and she swallowed hard. She was already tired from rehearsing, but she could do this. She knew she could do this. She wanted to do this.
Then why are you so terrified? Because after this, she didn’t really have a plan B. This was all she'd ever wanted to do. No other dream. No fall back. Just this. And five judges watching and judging how well she did. Determining her fate. No pressure or anything. You were born to dance. All she had to do was convince the judges of that.
She watched the ten dancers before them as the sounds of Beyoncé filled the room. She and the other women leapt and twirled and gyrated, their hips rocking in beat to her words about upgrading Jay Z. And then she saw it.
One of the girls, her foot slid out from under her and she fell into her split instead of the controlled slide they were looking for. Next thing they all knew, she was clutching her hamstring and crying.
On the one hand, Cara wanted to run over and comfort her, but on the other hand, a tiny part of her thought, ‘Thank God that isn’t me right now.’ The other girls finished the routine while the medic dealt with the girl with the tears streaking down her face. All the while the judges remained impassive, just whispering amongst themselves and shuffling head shot photos.
And then it was her turn. Oh goody.
The ten of them took their positions and Cara drew in a deep breath. The moment the music started with its intro, dah da dah da dada, before Beyoncé started singing, every single move went out of her head. Gone, completely.
It wasn't until the girl next to her telegraphed the first step that her memory unlocked just in time. Along with the others, she executed her kicks, leaps, pirouettes, Rond de jeunes, and hitch kicks. She followed the choreography. Didn’t miss a beat.
Perform. Listen. All these thoughts running through her head, but she pulled it together and gave the best audition she'd ever given. At the end of their combination, they all held their poses until the choreographer said thank you.
As they gathered their bags to sit and wait, the judges shuffled paperwork and their head shots around, occasionally pointing in their directions. She prayed they were saying good things.
Cara watched and tried not to fidget as four other groups went before they started making the announcements for call backs.
She heard the calls for 172, 89, 129 and 47. But no number 138. She said the number enough times that she tried to will them into calling it. Number after number until they'd called about twenty names. Then the choreographer stood and said, "The rest of you, thank you very much. We won’t be asking you to stay.”
The pit dropped out of her stomach and her head spun as her vision started to grey on the edges. She’d failed.
12
His hands were fucking shaking. Tate stared down at them as the water in the sink ran. Droplets fell off into the sink. Donovan had hit him. Hi
s twin. That hadn’t happened since they were little. That had been his brother's favorite method of getting his way. Before Tate could defend himself.
This was such a colossal cluster fuck. Donovan was out of control and Tate had to do something about it: The drinking, the drugs, that constant look of exhaustion about him. Tate had tried, but in protecting his brother from their father's wrath, he'd likely hurt him. And now his brother would take it out on Cara.
Cara. He was supposed to call her and wish her good luck.
Even as he simultaneously dried his hands and ran into his office, his phone rang. It was her. "Cara. I am so fucking sorry. I let you down. Shit blew up here and I'm sorry. I will make it up to you any way you want. How did it go?" He would tell her about the Donovan situation later tonight after they celebrated. She deserved to have her dreams come true. There was silence on the line and he prodded her again. "Cara? Are you there? How'd it go?"
"I—" She stopped and he could hear her shaky breathing and his chest tightened.
"Cara talk to me. What's going on?"
The words came in fits and starts and a few gut wrenching sobs. "I … I— I didn't get ... back ... So many girls and I ... no call back."
Fuck all that was holy. "Where are you?"
"What am I going to do, Tate? This was it. And I fucked up. I couldn’t get out ... head ... So hard. Tried ... "
"I know you tried sweetheart. Take a deep breath. Tell me where you are and I'll come pick you up."
"I don't want you to save me. I'm not—"
He made sure his voice was firm. He didn’t like how she sounded. Desolate and desperate. All he wanted to do was take care of her. "I know you don’t want me to come in and fix it." But like hell he was listening to that. "I just want to hold you. Is that okay? Can I come get you?"
"Uhm. I'm at Brooks Auditorium. On the side stairs at the south side of the building."
"Sit, tight, do you hear me? I'm coming for you."
Her voice was weak. "Th- Thank you."
He called his assistant, Crystal, into his office. "Listen. Tell my father, I needed to step out. Tell him I'm working on what he said I needed to work on this morning. Cancel the rest of my appointments all day. But I'll be reachable on my cell for emergencies."
"Of course, sir. Anything wrong? I saw Donovan storm out of here earlier."
He swallowed, knowing full well everyone would know that the heir apparents had had a colossal fight. "It's fine. There’s just someone I need to take care of."
Her brows rose and he could tell it was because he'd said he was taking care of someone. But he didn't care. His only focus right now was getting to Cara.
Tate parked illegally in the alley on Band Street beside the building. Right about now he had zero fucks left to give if he got a ticket. He wasn’t in the tow zone.
He saw her immediately, huddled into a ball at the top corner of the stairs.
Running out of the car, he called her name. “Cara.”
She looked up, tears streaking down her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come and get me. I feel so stupid and weak right now.” She frowned. “What happened to your jaw?”
“Don’t worry about it. What went wrong?”
She didn't listen to him. “That’s looks like something to worry about. Did someone hit you?” She reached out for him. He’d never turn down her touch, so he leaned down. It hurt when her fingertips dusted his jaw, but he wanted her to keep touching him.
“Donovan and I had a conversation. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for you. Please talk to me.”
“We’re going to talk about the bruise.”
He nodded. She was so stubborn. “I know. But you first.”
Her breathing was choppy as she tried to drag in air. “I don’t know. I was fine. I was prepared. I knew what to do. But I just couldn’t get out of my head, you know? I was dancing but it’s like I couldn’t feel it.”
“But you auditioned?”
“Well, of course I did. It’s not like I was just going to back off because I was scared.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Yeah well, I didn’t get a call back. So there’s that.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry. But we can try again. The Cara North I know is not a quitter.”
“Tate, you weren’t there. It was like I was some kind of novice. I just took the only dream I ever had and I failed.”
He tucked a finger under her chin and tipped her head up so she met his gaze. “Stop. Look at me.” Her dark eyes flickered up to meet his. “You are a survivor. You are not a failure. You think nobody fails? I fail all the time. Hell, I failed today. But you are the girl who gets up and keeps going.”
“I just keep thinking that all this time I told myself I didn’t get a spot at the last company because Donovan sabotaged me. But what if I’m just not good enough?”
“I’ve seen you dance and I’m telling you, you are good enough. You are the girl I believe in. The one I saw dance for those kids. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never could.”
“Tate, it’s just—”
“It’s just what? It’s hard? It’s supposed to be. This is a setback, not a failure. So they said no today. They will say yes eventually. Or someone will. I believe in you.”
She sniffled. “Why? You don't even know me. Not really.”
He swallowed and told her the truth. “Because that dancer I saw that first night, she had the power to make people feel something. She reached right inside me and made me realize I’d been sleepwalking my whole life. I feel like I didn’t really wake up until I saw you dance. And the way you were with those kids? I couldn't look away.”
She blinked dark, wide eyes at him. “How do you know the right things to say to me?”
He flushed. Instead of saying “Because I practiced what I would say to you if you were ever mine,” he said, “Because it’s the truth.”
You have to tell him. She'd held onto it for too long. “Tate, there's something I need to tell you.”
“What's up?”
Cara licked her lips. Now or never. “That night, when I was supposed to meet you?”
“Yeah?”
“I got a text from you saying to meet at the house instead.”
He frowned. “That's ridiculous. I never sent you a text.”
“I know. Donovan did.” She wiped her palms on her leggings. “He met me in your room, tried to convince me that he was you. But I knew. He got really pissed. Calling me names. Then he—”
Next to her, Tate went still. She heard him swallow before he asked his next question. “Then he what? Cara? What did he do?”
Her mouth was dry and she tried to swallow the sawdust. “He said no matter what, he was having me and he was tired of waiting. He—he grabbed me, tore my shirt. I still don't know how I got away. I kicked him and ran. I didn't look back. When you saw me coming out I couldn't deal so I left you behind.”
His frown was deep. “Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“He was an Anders. Who would believe me?”
Tate pulled her into his arms and held her for so long she lost track of time. When he pulled back, he tucked her loose curls behind her ear. “I would have believed you. I am never going to let him hurt you again. Do you understand me?”
“Tate, I don't want to make it a big deal. I just want to forget.”
“He has to pay for that.” He kissed her head then stood. “Come on. I have the rest of the day off. We’re going to spend it together.”
“Can you do that? I know how busy you’ve been.”
“Don’t worry about it. For once, I’m going to do what makes me happy.” He stretched out his hand and she slipped her palm into his. “Let me take the most beautiful girl in the city and cheer her up.”
“I think you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
“As always, I’m up for the challenge.”
13
Cara snuggled into Tate's arms. He'd held her all night,
keeping her tucked next to him. Keeping her warm and safe. Three weeks ago, she only thought about him in those lonely moments when she felt weak. Now she was in his bed, in his house, and his hand was wrapped around her breast possessively. How had this happened so quickly? Granted, she'd fallen in love with him two years ago.
He gave her a testing squeeze and she laughed as she turned into his embrace. "Good morning. I guess that was your way of telling me you're awake.”
His chuckle was low. "No." He nudged his pulsing erection against her cleft, sliding against her slickness. "This is my way of telling you I’m awake."
"Oh, I see now. That’s what all that poking was about."
He laughed and his eyes crinkled as he showed even white teeth. "Yeah. Let’s see. I've been poking you for about an hour, so that's how long I've been up, hoping you'd wake."
She rolled her eyes. "Men."
"What? Sexy, beautiful woman in my bed. Of course I’m going to have a hard on."
"Well, that seems like more than your average hard on." She reached between them, palming his erection and sliding her hand over the velvety skin. "This seems like a little bit extra."
"A lot extra." He nodded vehemently as his hips jerked into her hand. "Yes ... ahhh. A whole lot extra."
"Okay. Okay. A whole lot extra." She giggled and he tipped her chin up so he could kiss her.
"You are so beautiful, you know that?" She was in the process of shaking her head when he continued. "I love you."
Her brain stuttered. What did he just say? Her body went stock-still as she tried to process the input. But even before her mind could make sense of what he'd said, the words tumbled out and she said, "I love you too."