Page 74 of Playing Rucking Hard

I resist the urge to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, knowing she’ll only pull away or give me her classic eyeroll. Instead, I smile at her through the lump in my throat. “You okay?”

Sage gives a slight nod and a group of girls call for her to join them. “Go on, have fun.”

But before she can move, the principal steps onto the stage and taps her microphone. “Welcome, everyone, to our annual school dance! To start the night, we’d like to invite our students to the dance floor for the first dance with their fathers or significant male role models.”

My stomach drops and everything makes sense. The increase in nightmares. The school meltdowns. Why didn’t Sage say something—show me a brochure or something? How am I supposed to know what is going on in her mind when she keeps me locked out?

I can’t do this if she refuses to trust me.

Around us, fathers step forward, daughters and sons taking their hands, giggling as they are led onto the dance floor.

I reach for Sage, but she’s no longer at my side. No. What if she panics? What if she rushes out into the night and I can’t find her? Why didn’t I know about a father-daughter dance? I would have kept her at home—or planned a night out roller skating or at the movies.

I would do anything to protect my sister from this night.

But then, I see him.

Dylan.

He’s here.

And Sage has taken a step towards him, as if she expected this? What? How did he … how did she …?

The breath whooshes from my lungs. Literally, I can’t breathe as Dylan strides through a parting crowd to my sister. His broad frame is impossible to miss in a dark suit, his tie slightly loosened like he’d been in a rush or, more likely, like he just doesn’t give a shit like dressing up. He stops a foot away from Sage, crouching down to be at eye level.

“Hey, Sage, did you get dressed up for me or yourself?”

She shrugs, but her smile says a thousand words.

“You look too beautiful to stand in a corner while music plays.” Dylan extends a hand, palm up, while I hold my breath. I’m afraid any sudden movement will break the moment and Sage will fall to pieces.

But she doesn’t. Still grinning, Sage shocks me by placing her small hand in Dylan’s.

The excited crowd of eleven and twelve-year olds and their chaperones part to allow Dylan and Sage onto the dance floor.

I’m almost blinded by the cameras flashing, forgetting to get out my own phone and capture the moment. He came. He came to support my sister. She knew about it. My head is reeling withtoo much information, and insufficient time to process.Dylan is here.

“That’s Dylan Fleski.”

“Wait, the rugby player?”

“That’s my brother,” Squid’s voice rings out proudly from somewhere in the crowd. “He’s dancing with my best friend, Sage. You know, the swimmer.”

Dylan doesn’t react to the murmurs, to the camera phones snapping photos, or to the way parents are trying to dance next to him so they can get photos. His focus is entirely on Sage, laughing as he can’t keep up with her dance moves, and twirling her around to show off her dress.

My sister is laughing.

My sister is smiling and laughing.

I don’t bother trying to stop my tears. Months of emotion are unleashed as my sister dances in the arms of the man I’ve never loved more than I do right now. I don’t know what magical karma is in play, or whether my parents are up in heaven and calling favors to give me hope.

I don’t care how this night happened, only that it has. My sister still has the capacity to be happy—and I dare to believe that tonight is a step in the right direction.

All thanks to Dylan.

The song ends, and Dylan bends over to whisper something in Sage’s ear. She laughs and drags him towards me. I can’t run. I can’t flee. We are in a public place, but I only see him.

His hand slides around my waste and I don’t fight my body being pulled against his. His spare hand wipes away my tears.

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