Page 15 of After All This Time

My dad used to love watching me dance. He was my biggest supporter, always sitting front and center, his eyes lighting up with pride as he watched me twirl and leap across the floor. His words, telling me how proud he was, still cling to me as if it were only yesterday.

Those memories used to hurt.They used to leave an ache in my chest so sharp I thought it might never fade.

Not anymore.

Now he's here in every pointed toe, every graceful arc, and every breath I take when I dance. It's like he never left—like he's still sitting in that front row, watching his little girl fly.

Mom's always "supported" me—air quotes absolutely necessary, because while she's great at playing the part, she doesn't actually believe I can turn dancing into anything more than an overpriced, time-consuming hobby. Sure, she throws money at it, acting like that somehow compensates for her lack of faith, like it's her way of saying,See? I care.But actions without belief are just empty gestures, and I've stopped pretending they mean anything more than that.

Ever since she married David, she's developed this habit of throwing money at anything that even remotely looks like a problem. You lose your father? You get whisked away to the Bahamas for a "grieving vacation," complete with cocktails and sunshine while your mom sips mai tais by the pool.

Then, when the school bully calls you the "kid with the dead dad," you receive an all-expenses-paid pamper day at the most expensive spa around. Because clearly, a cucumber facial and a hot stone massage will fix that emotional trauma right up.

And when you get accepted into one of the best dance companies around, you no longer have to worry about where you'll live and how you'll afford it. Nope, that's all covered as long as you don't mind being babysat by your stepbrother.

I walk over to the speaker, pressing play, and the familiar opening notes of Sergei Prokofiev'sRomeo and Julietsweep through the room. I've lost count of how many times I've danced to this piece, but it always takes hold of me the same way.

As I move, I lose myself completely; my mind empties, and there's nothing left but the notes and the way my feet burn against the floor.

I don't know how long I've been dancing, but when I finally stop, my chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. My legs carry me to the barre, where I rest my hands against the cool wood, grounding myself.

That's when I see them—those hypnotic, ice-blue eyes locked on me in the mirror.

Tobias.

He stands in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, his tattoos stretching over his biceps, as he watches me with an intensity that steals the last of the air from my lungs. His proud smile slowly curves, but it's his eyes that hold me in place as he stares at me as if he's seeing me for the first time.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, my breath still coming in short bursts.

"Long enough to know I should've seen you do this before now."

Tobias has never watched me dance before. Not really. He's had plenty of chances, but he rarely ever came home long enough to see much of anything.

"You can really fucking dance, Firefly."

I laugh, keeping my gaze locked on his reflection in the mirror. "Thank you," I reply, taking note of his clothes.

He's freshly showered, and if his slightly damp hair didn't give it away, the scent filling the room certainly would.

"You heading out?" I ask, my eyes tracing over him.

He nods, casually leaning against the doorframe. "I'll be home late, so if you hear someone creeping around, it's only going to be me, so don't come out swinging anything at me, okay?"

"You're not staying over?" I turn to face him fully as the question slips out before I can stop myself.

"Definitely not."

"Wow," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "What an asshole."

"I'm not going there to cuddle, Mills. We both know what it is."

"Don't you ever get bored of having meaningless sex?"

He raises an eyebrow, and I immediately wish I hadn't asked. "You haven't had sex with me. Trust me, there's nothing boring about it." He pushes off the wall with a cocky chuckle. "See you tomorrow."

Chapter 7

Tobias

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