Promise Me Always

by Rhonda Shaw

  And I had to make him believe I didn’t care anymore either, somehow convincing him that our past was behind me and I’d moved on, that I didn’t think about him every day and wonder. Hiding in the kitchen wouldn’t prove that. I would say hi, then leave, and continue to bury the ache, the same as I always had for the past six years. I needed to remember he hadn’t cared then, and he wouldn’t care now. He would be just as uncomfortable seeing me and would be grateful once I left the room.

  My heart battered itself against my ribcage, my palms were sweaty, and my stomach was a churning ball of nerves, but I could do it.

  “Okay, okay.” I took a steadying breath before leaning down to put my hands on Dani’s shoulders, forcing her to make eye contact with me. “I’m going to go into the other room and you need to stay right here, okay? Do not move from this spot.”

  She nodded, and I took another deep breath, standing upright. I tugged my blouse and tried to calm my racing heart, despite being about to face the one person I worked to forget on a daily basis.

  What would his reaction be? He probably hoped never to see me again after shredding me to pieces in front of an audience. He was going to be shocked at my sudden appearance, giving me the upper hand since I knew what I was about to walk into. I would be nothing but cordial. I refused to let him see the grief I still carried around, the pain I still fought to ignore.

  Squaring my shoulders, I set off with a purposeful stride, uncertain what to expect, so reminiscent of the early days with Danny. I was hesitant to test how strong Danny’s hold on me still was. But I only had to do this once, and then perhaps I could move on—the one thing everyone had wanted to begin with, all those years before, warning me that his world was nowhere I should be. I hadn’t listened, blinded by love and promises of always. There were times when I wished I had, for it had almost cost me everything.

  Chapter 6

  ~ Gabrielle ~

  Six Years Earlier

  The day after my tryout, I walked out the front door of the school, unsure of what to expect. Would D keep his word to walk with me every day? He hadn’t attended our class—in fact, I hadn’t seen him in school at all since the first day—so I couldn’t tell him I would indeed be walking to the studio daily, having been accepted.

  For the first time in a long time, a thin thread of happiness weaved back into my life. The ballet master, Ms. Greiger, hadn’t thought twice about accepting me once I’d laced up my toe shoes and stepped through the instructions relayed to me, despite some rustiness. Getting back on my toes after being off them for so long had been wonderful. I regained a sense of peace, albeit fragile, and one I only found through dance.

  When I reached the last of the cement stairs, I didn’t have to wonder any further if I had an escort when I found him leaning against a tree, waiting, his head down as if he was listening to something. Draped over his head was his standard hoodie, and his low-riding, worn jeans dragged on the ground around his scuffed tennis shoes.

  D glanced up and our eyes locked, causing thousands of butterflies to take flight in my stomach. His gaze lingered before he broke the connection and pushed off the trunk, starting down the sidewalk as he removed his headphones from his ears. I took a deep, steadying breath and picked up my pace, thankful for my long legs, in order to match my stride with his quick one.

  “Hi, D.”

  He glimpsed down at me before returning his gaze straight ahead.

  I ignored his sullenness. “How are you today?”

  “So, you were accepted?” he asked.

  The fact that he remembered sent pleasant tingles of surprise dancing along my skin. “Yep.”

  “So, what? Do you want to be a famous dancer or something?”

  I was at first worried he was being sarcastic, but he actually seemed curious. “I don’t know about famous, but I want to be a dancer, yes.”

  He nodded as if he understood this.

  “What about you?”

  His lips quirked. “No, I don’t want to be a dancer.”

  I chuckled. “That’s not what I meant. What do you want to do?”

  He gave me a narrowed, speculative look before turning away and shaking his head. “Nothing.”

  “Come on! Nothing? You don’t dream of anything?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wish you would stop saying that.”

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “Well, you wouldn’t.”

  Not wanting to go down that road with him again, I switched gears, happy I’d been able to get him to open up, even just a little. “What’s your name, really?”

  “You don’t believe it’s D?”

  “No. I’m sure all your friends call you D, but I’m guessing it’s a nickname and your mother didn’t actually name you after the fourth letter of the alphabet.” I looked at him and smirked.

  His lips twitched, and he appeared to be trying not to laugh. When he glanced back at me, though, all humor dropped from his face. “Do you like, stand on your toes and stuff?” He mimed the action with his fingers.

  My brow arched, wondering at the change of subject, but I let it pass. “Yes, I do. They’re called toe shoes.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  I shrugged as I glanced around the worn-down neighborhood. Years of neglect showed on the houses with broken doors and windows. Others were half destroyed by fire, but the city had yet to tear them down. It was a depressing scene. “Sure, but you get used to it after a while. Plus, you can use gel pads or lamb’s wool, or something to help cushion your toes. Sometimes you lose a toenail.”

  He grimaced, but didn’t ask anything else. We walked in silence for a bit before he said, “I rap.”

  I frowned. “You wrap what?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “I rap. You know, music.”

  “Oh,” I said as understanding dawned on me, and was immediately fascinated. “Really? Is that what you were listening to? Are you any good?”

  He shrugged, but said nothing.

  “So, is that what you want to do? Rap?”

  He lifted his shoulders again as he peered up at the sky, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Rap something for me.” I was almost begging, the urge to hear him perform his craft so strong I couldn’t fight it.

  He laughed, a nice, low rumble, and the light expression brightened his face. “No, I’m not going to rap something for you.”

  My heart stuttered, and warmth pulsed through me. I wanted to hear his laugh again. “Why not?”

  “Why don’t you dance for me?”

  I dropped my bag and set myself in fourth position, praying I didn’t twist an ankle on a pebble, before rolling up to balance on one foot while lifting the other to my knee. I spun around twice before landing into a lunge with my arms in third position.

  “What was that?”

  I leaned down to pick up my bag. “A pirouette.”

  His mouth opened and his eyes widened before a stony expression fell into place. He turned and we continued walking.

  “I’m waiting,” I pressed.

  “Waiting for what?”

  “My rap.”

  We stopped again, and he glanced at me before staring straight ahead over my shoulder, preparing the rhymes in his head as he nodded to a beat only he could hear. His voice was sharp as he snapped out the words, bending them in a way where I could almost hear the music that might have been playing along with it. He told me a story about a girl who was white-faced and straight-laced, and, like Dorothy, was totally out of place.

  When he finished, I smiled. He’d been trying to offend me, but I found his lyrics funny. “That’s good.”

  His gaze lingered, as he’d most likely expected me to get insulted and stomp off in a huff, but when I didn’t, he shrugged. “It’s the best I could do on short notice, considering the material I have to work with.”

  My grin widened. “Are you saying I’m boring?”

  “Not too many sk
eletons in your closet, I’m guessing.”

  “And you do?”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured.

  “Why are you always doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  I walked over and stood right in front of him. He was only a few inches taller than I was, but appeared as if he towered over me. “Make me scared of you, or try to make me believe you’re some evil person.”

  “I’m trying to make it clear you shouldn’t trust me.”

  “And why shouldn’t I trust you?” I crossed my arms.

  “Because it would be better for you if you didn’t.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “If you weren’t so naïve.”

  I threw up my arms. “Well, then help me to not be naïve. Help me learn what I need to survive here. Don’t just tell me I’m naïve and walk away.”

  His gaze held mine before a beautiful smile broke out on his face, completely transforming it. “You’re a funny girl, Gabrielle.”

  I was ready to lash out at his condescending comment, but stopped when he said my name. I’d been positive he hadn’t remembered it, me being nothing more than a small blip on his radar, and hearing his low voice say it caused goose bumps to break out over my skin and a shiver to roll through me. God help me, but there was something about this rude and impolite guy I liked.

  “You should do that more often,” I said instead.

  His eyes narrowed, the hardness returning to his face. “Do what?”

  “Smile. It looks good on you. Thanks again for the escort.”

  I stepped past him, but paused when he called out.

  “Hey!”

  I turned my head and raised an inquisitive brow.

  “It’s Danny.”

  I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Danny.”

  Chapter 7

  ~ Gabrielle ~

  Six Years Earlier

  I shoved through the throngs of people crowding the school hallway and wished time would move quicker. Each day, I found myself looking forward to the time I spent with Danny on our walks. Kat had ended up in the same ballet class as me, and had even offered me a ride, but I’d declined, not wanting to lose the alone time with Danny.

  Even though he was difficult to talk to under the best of circumstances, and sometimes it was like pulling teeth to get him to say anything, I still got something out of him, and from the little I’d learned, I was fascinated. Something about him drew me in. He wasn’t nice; if anything, he acted like a jerk on purpose. But there were those brief glimpses where he wasn’t hiding behind his armor and he was quite charming. When he smiled, his face lit up in such stunning contrast to the usual hardness, revealing how handsome he was when not perpetually scowling. I could tell he had a good sense of humor, but didn’t show it for some reason, choosing rather to act aloof and tough with a mammoth-sized chip on his shoulder. And despite his off-putting manner, I wanted to learn more.

  But after the warning from Ms. Thomas not to hang around him after she’d spotted me walking with him after school, and then from Kat, explaining Danny had once run with the wrong crowd who might now be looking for paybacks, I decided to ask him about what I’d heard. I was unsure how to do it, however. I didn’t want to lose him as a chaperone, and the last thing I wanted was to upset one of the only people who’d treated me as a human being. How Danny could be dangerous, I didn’t understand—standoffish, yes, but not dangerous. He did carry a gun, but it wasn’t as if he’d pointed it at me or threatened me with it. In fact, it had come in good use and I was thankful he’d had it on him at the time. If what Ms. Thomas and Kat said was true, that picture didn’t mesh with the Danny I was getting to know. Not that he was open and friendly, but he didn’t appear dangerous or scary; or a walking target, for that matter.

  Plus, Kat told me the garage he worked at wasn’t anywhere near the studio, so he’d lied about that in order to walk with me. While unusual, it didn’t seem like someone I needed to avoid. There seemed to be a hidden motive at play, and what exactly, I was determined to find out.

  Danny waited outside the school when I emerged after the last bell. And, as with every day before, once he caught sight of me, he started walking, not bothering to give me a moment to catch up.

  Just when I got up the nerves to say something, always discomfited at first by his intense silence, his hand clamped down on my arm, shocking me mute, and he pulled me closer to his side, shielding me from view with his body. I frowned and was about to ask what was going on when I noticed a car on the street slowing down as it passed. All I caught was a quick glimpse of the driver, but what I saw was an older man with wild hair surrounding a haggard face. The ancient car’s muffler rumbled, the vibrations palpable. I jerked when it backfired as the car slowed almost to a stop, and glanced at Danny for a clue about what was happening, but he kept his eyes forward as if he detected nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Hey boy!” the man from the car yelled.

  Danny ignored him and continued walking, the car creeping next to us.

  “Don’t you fucking ignore me! I know you fucking stole my stash!”

  Danny closed his eyes and steeled his jaw, the only acknowledgment of the man shouting at him, but he didn’t stop moving, pulling me along with him.

  “Are you going to answer him?” I whispered.

  “Ignore him.”

  A chill of unease slithered through me. “Do you know him?”

  I bit off a shriek when the horn on the vehicle blasted. The noise drew people to their doors, curious about the spectacle on the street in front of their houses. The man changed from short, sharp beeps to laying on it without yield. Danny finally stopped, yanking me to a halt with him.

  “Go home!” he yelled.

  The blaring ceased, but the man continued to glare at us. Nervousness crawled along my skin. I didn’t like the unstable look on his face.

  “Go on! Get the fuck out of here!”

  When the car still didn’t move, Danny cursed and let go of my arm as he stomped over to it. He leaned in the passenger side window, and while I couldn’t overhear everything, I caught “Get out of here” again, along with “You’re high.” Whatever else he said worked, and he strode back to my side, watching the vehicle amble its way down the road.

  “Who was that?” I asked when the show was over.

  He took a deep breath and set his icy blue eyes on me. “My father.”

  “Your fath—” I snapped my mouth shut, unsure of what to say. What kind of man drove around during the day, yelling at his son for no apparent reason? And Danny said he was high. I wasn’t sure what to think, but I felt sorry for the man and Danny.

  Danny, studying me, misread my reaction as disgust. “I know, I know. Your father is probably the perfect daddy with his perfect little job, and he comes home every day to his fucking perfect little family.”

  Resentment shone in his eyes and bitterness colored his tone, and I jolted. Heaviness settled over me and my limbs felt like they were made of lead. “You have no idea—”

  “Oh, I’m sure I do. You wouldn’t understand—”

  “He’s dead. He killed himself.” I swallowed hard. Those words always ended up clogged at the back of my throat.

  The anger plunged from his face replaced by shock. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Life sucks, you know?”

  He let out a breath. “Don’t I?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m an asshole. Forget I said anything, okay?”

  He started to walk away, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. It was now or never. “Why are you doing this?”

  He glanced down at where my hand rested before raising his gaze back to mine. “What?”

  I fought through the rising panic, his hard expression making me uncomfortable, and I almost told him to forget it, but I didn’t. If I wanted answers, I needed to push through. “This. Walking with me every day.”

  “Because I said I would h
elp you out.” He frowned. “If you don’t want me to, just say so.”

  “No, it isn’t that. You told me you worked by the studio on Parks, not five miles in the opposite direction.”

  All expression fell from his face. “I said it was on Parks, not right next door. What does it matter anyway? What a way to make someone feel fucking appreciated.”

  His retreat, always his immediate reaction, frustrated me and I lost it, not caring if I made him mad. “I don’t understand you. Why are you doing something nice, but want me to believe you’re a jerk? You act like you’re put out, but you’re the one who offered! What do you want from me?”

  “What do I want from you?” He ran his hand through his hair and scoffed. “What the fuck do I want from you?” he murmured. He paced around before spinning back to face me, his hands jammed in his pocket. “What do I want from you? Gabrielle, you have no idea how much I fucking want from you.”

  I gasped and my heart rate tripled. “What?”

  He took a step toward me. “Since the first second you walked into that classroom, all scared and nervous, I haven’t been able to get you out of my fucking head. You’re all up there and no matter what I do, you won’t get out and it’s driving me nuts.”

  I shook my head in denial, unable to process what his words meant. No way would I have ever guessed he was interested in me when he acted as if I was a piece of lint, stubbornly refusing to come off his sweatshirt.

  He smirked at my apparent disbelief. “Now, I know you’re thinking I must be crazy because there is no way a guy like me and a girl like you could ever like each other, let alone get along, and believe me, I’ve told myself that a million times. We’re not just opposites; we’re like motherfucking polar opposites.”

  “No. No, that’s not what I’m thinking.”