Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
"What else did you do today?" I ask, trying to steer my mind away from how much I like that thought. But…I've thought about little else all day. Knowing what he really said to that interviewer, how he really sees me, threw me for a loop.
I told him I wouldn't run, but I spent all day running through a list of reasons why I should. The way he makes me feel was at the top of that list. He's dangerous to me, and I don't think he even realizes it.
"Called the police on my mother," he says, his tone casual.
I blink, not sure I heard him correctly. But judging by the tense look on his face, I definitely didn't mishear, and he isn't nearly as cool about it as he sounds. My heart sinks. "She showed up?"
"Not here," he mutters. "But Sidney got a camera notification from Hattie's place. She was out front, beating on the door." He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering a curse. "I sent the police to run her off. They trespassed her from the property. If she shows up again, she'll go to jail."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, reaching across the table for his hand.
"I'm not," he growls, his expression hard as he clings to my fingers. "It's what she deserves for the hell she's put Hattie through. I'll never forgive her for it."
Sidney has told me a little about it—enough for me to agree with him. Hattie is one of the sweetest people alive. I can't even imagine living with a mother like theirs, one who took every opportunity to cut her down. It's hard enough when it's complete strangers. Hattie had to endure it from her own mother. That's devastating.
And I'm guessing it's been equally as devastating for her brothers, who had to watch it happen over and over again. I know they tried to cut her out more than once over the years because of the way she treated Hattie, but Hattie always talked them out of it because she felt guilty.
I don't think that'll happen this time. I think they're all done with her for good this time.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask him.
He hesitates and then blows out a breath. "There isn't much to say, baby. She was never a great mother, especially not to Hattie. It's like she hated that we doted on Hattie the way we did, so she made her life hell for it. It wasn't as bad when Dad was alive, but once he realized it was happening at all, he decided to leave her. She lost her damn mind after that." He ruffles a hand through his hair, his expression bleak. "We did everything we could to keep her happy so she wouldn't fuck with Hattie until she was old enough to get the hell out of there. It was never enough," he mutters, regret and guilt heavy in his voice.
"I have no idea what you guys have been through," I say quietly, "but I know how much it sucks to realize you can't count on the people you should be able to count on. I'm so sorry your mom is that person for you, Harlan. No one deserves that."
I wouldn't have survived without my parents. They've always been my biggest supporters, the two people I could count on no matter what. It kills me that Harlan and Hattie lost their dad, only for their mother to spend all these years being an evil bitch.
"You're right," he says, scrubbing his hand over his face before he pins me with a look. "No one deserves what you've gone through, either, baby."
"I'm fine." I mean, it sucks, but when you want to dance, you learn to deal with it. And it's not like I'm the only one. Even ballerinas half my size deal with similar shit. There is a whole world of thin dancers out there with eating disorders and PTSD, simply because existing in the dance world is fucking hard.
"Doesn't change the fact that you've dealt with a lot of shit you don't deserve," he says, and then pauses when the waitress reappears with our food under silver domes.
She sets it in front of us—steak, asparagus, and loaded potatoes—and then vanishes again.
"Your dance partner is a fucking asshole who doesn't deserve the honor of dancing at your side," he says as soon as she's gone. "I'd love to introduce my fist to his face."
"He is a dick," I mutter. "But it's not like he's the only one who has something snarky or shitty to say about me. Half the dancers in our company don't think I deserve to be there."
"Why do you stay?" Harlan asks, cutting into his steak.
"No one else wanted me. I auditioned for damn near every major ballet company in the United States, and they all turned me down." I roll my eyes. "I didn't fit the image, and God forbid a ballerina doesn't look the part." To them, I'll never be anything but a threat to a tradition so old it's basically holy at this point.