Page 89 of Yours, Unexpectedly

Before I decide whether or not to reply, Gabe’s name pops up on the top of my screen. I click over to his message.

Gabe

You backstage with Anders? We’ll save you a seat.

Fuck. In my haste to leave the theater, I completely forgot that my entire family has made the trek down to Manhattan to support Anders tonight. The ache in my chest is unbearable, knowing the worst part about this will be how disappointed he will be when he realizes I’m not in the audience. The thought almost makes me turn around to head back. Almost.

I can’t do that though. I’m so confused and absolutely furious. I need time to gather myself, and I won’t be able to do that if I go to the showcase. My feet carry my body back to the hotel, but I swear, it feels like I left my heart in the alley behind that theater.

Don’t turn around and get her phone number.

Don’t turn around and get her phone number.

Don’t turn around and get her phone number.

Bex never makes it backstage and doesn’t answer my texts before I put my phone away for the performance. I assume she got caught up, but I can’t help the small part of me that’s worried something happened. I look for her each time I’m on stage, but the lights are bright and it’s hard to make out faces in the audience.

I do, however, give the performance of my life. I’m extremely confident as we all take the stage for our final number; it’s a group song that does an amazing job of highlighting each of our individual personalities while also showing that we could easily be excellent members of a company.

We are all beaming as the number wraps up and we take our final bows. The energy in the theater is addicting, and I’m on a high as I head to the dressing room to pack my things, eager to find Bex. I turn my phone on and a slew of messages pop up. My brows furrow as I try to decipher what the hell is going on.

The first messages I see are from Gabe asking if I’ve seen Bex. The next message is from my father, so I ignore that one. Finally, there’s a text from Bex.

Baby Bardot

I’m so sorry. I’m at the hotel whenever you’re done. Take your time, enjoy tonight. You deserve it.

She missed the show?

The rest of the excitement from the night drains, leaving me feeling an immense loneliness, even in a room full of people. I switch over to the message from my dad.

Erik Oleson

I have something for you.

And suddenly I know. I know with certainty that this has to do with him. I hastily throw all of my things into my bag and make a beeline for the lobby. I shove the backstage door open and almost completely bowl someone over. I’m about to apologize when I realize who is blocking my way.

“You,” I growl at my father. “What the fuck did you do?”

“The bitch already told on me, huh? That was fast.”

“She hasn’t said anything. She’s not even here. What”—I crowd him until he backs into the opposite alley wall—“Did. You. Do?” I ask again. We are about the same size, but I can tell he’s been drinking, so I can easily take him if he tries anything.

“I tried,” he slurs, “making a deal with her. I was hoping she’d want what’s best for you, but the little slut kneed me in the dick instead.”

I see red. “What’s best for me? You know what’s best for me? You staying the fuck away from her,” I seeth. “Actually that’s what’s best for you. Because if you touch her again, I will ruin you. Don’t forget, I have enough shit on you to make your life a living hell.”

He doesn’t seem concerned about my threat, instead shoving a bag into my chest. “Here. She dropped this before she ran.”

If Bex felt the need to run then that means he did something to make her uncomfortable. Before I have a chance to change my mind, I pull my right hand back, putting all of my force into a sucker punch across my father’s left cheek. He crumples to the floor and I stand over him holding the bag in my other hand.

“Don’t fucking come near us again.”

There’s a look of pure wrath in his eyes as he spits out, “You’ll never see any of your inheritance, you little shit.”

“Good,” I throw over my shoulder as I turn to walk away. I can’t believe he thinks I still want his fucking money. It took me a lot of therapy to see that my value lies in more than the money I have—a lesson my father never learned. I keep walking, leaving my past writhing on the ground and moving as fast as I can to get to my future.

I saw Gabe and the rest of the Bardot family in the lobby as I left. I stayed long enough to reassure them that I had heard from Bex and was going to find her. The concern on their faces matched the guilt swirling in my chest. This feels like it’s my fault, even though I know, logically, it isn’t. Erik Olsson is the scum of the earth. I foolishly never thought he’d take things this far though.

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