Page 27 of Surrender
My chest.
The pressure was back.
The weight of the world no longer shared, but instead pressing down on me, making it harder and harder to breathe. To see. To comprehend what the fuck was happening.
“The police kindly brought him over to say goodbye on the way to the station,” my dad explained as Nate joined him at the doorway. “Thankfully, they were understanding about how much pressure you’d both been under today.”
I didn’t…
I couldn’t…
“Nate…” I forced out between quickening breaths. “Please…”
He looked back at me over his shoulder. “Darcy, it’s okay. This is what’s best. I can finally get away from my dad, and you can take that place at that fancy ballet school in New York.”
“How do y-you…” I stuttered, shaking my head. I hadn’t even told James about Juilliard, and I’d made my parents promise they wouldn’t either. The call had come a couple of days after his diagnosis. “No. No, I don’t want that. I don’t—”
“Trust me, Tiny Dancer,” he cut in. “Youcando this.”
He stepped out into the hall, each footstep as he walked away like another blow to my chest as I struggled to hold on, to keep it all from crashing down around me.
I couldn’t do it on my own.
I couldn’t hold it together.
And as I heard the front door close behind him, I fell to my knees.
My world shattering before my eyes.
Chapter Eleven
DARCY
The hairs on my arms prickled, and I swallowed the lump of emotion that instantly appeared in my throat, my body trying to suffocate me before I could turn and see his face.
The instant I did, everything was going to change.
So, I braced myself on the edge of the sink, letting it hold me up. “How’d you get in here?” I murmured, staring at the dirty window in front of me, a few creeping vines decorating the edges.
“How do you think?” he countered, like he was confused by my confusion.
He came through the window.
Gritting my teeth, I finally turned to face him.
And regretted it instantly.
I hated that the first thing I did was memorize everything about him, like I hadn’t spent years trying to forget. He looked exactly the same, but also completely different. The tattoos were new—his hands and arms covered by colorful designs that disappeared under the sleeves of his T-shirt and worn, black leather vest. The brightly colored, intricate artwork clearly told a story—one I found myself already itching to know.
The scowl permanently etched into his brow, though, was something I’d seen before. Almost every single night. It was quintessentially Nathaniel Brooks. There had always been something about the way he stood so still and stoic. Like the chaos of the world could crash around him, and he wouldn’t so much as flinch. It was why, when my world began to crumble, I clung to him.
He was the rock, the anchor that I needed—steady andunwavering.
At least, that’s what I’d thought.
The weight of that anger I knew so well settled in my bones. It was heavy and hard to carry, but when I looked at him standing there in this kitchen like he’d only been here yesterday, I suddenly felt really fucking strong.
“You make a habit of climbing through people’s windows in the middle of the day?” I snapped, finally finding my voice.
