Page 63 of Slow Burn
My gaze bounced between both my parents before it settled on my dad. "You know how I've been filling in for Lucetta while she's away?" Dad rolled his eyes, and I forced the rest of the words out of my mouth when they wanted to shrink back down my throat.
"She's not coming back and she wants me to take over. Not only will I be able to do something I love but I'llhave the opportunity to finally earn a living off of this. The thing is, I only have about seventy-five percent of the amount she's asking, and I was hoping I could—"
"No!" My dad bellowed. "There's no way in hell, I'm going to support this craziness. You can just for—"
"Fraser." Mom reached over and placed her hand on Dad's.
He wasn't having it. Shaking her off, he jumped to his feet and towered over me. "I shouldn't have entertained the idea of this silly hobby. I know how it can destroy."
"Destroy?" I pushed to my feet so fast, my dad had to take a step back. "What on earth is dancing going to destroy? It makes me happy, Dad. And the only one destroying anything is you!"
"Madison," he warned.
"No! All I have ever asked of you was to support my dreams. I'm not you, Dad. That hardware store doesn't bring me joy. I hate it. Because you love it more than your own daughter."
My dad's face turned bright red, the veins on his forehead and neck bulging with fury. He looked to my mom then glared at me before stomping off like an enraged beast. I never knew what real heartbreak felt like until I watched my dad walk away from me like that.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to yell. But mostly I wanted to run away. To be somewhere safe where it was okay to be me.
"Maddie." My mom clasped my hands in hers and pulled me back into my seat. "We should have beenhonest with you a long time ago. I don't even know why we never said a thing."
I'd never, not once, seen my mom look so forlorn. A part of me wanted to throw my arms around her and just hold her close. I might've done that had it not been for the hurt little girl inside of me demanding to be heard and understood.
"What are you talking about?" I flinched at the ice in my tone.
My mom let go of my hands and smoothed hers down the front of her floral skirt. Her gaze drifted to a spot on the fence, and when she spoke, her voice sounded almost hollow. "There's a reason your father and I don't like dancing."
"That's putting it mildly." I snorted. "You hate it, Mom. Probably because it makes me happy."
Her eyes snapped back to mine lightning fast. Brows pulled together she searched my face. "Is that what you believe?"
I felt the sting of emotion at the back of my eyes and I willed it to stay put until we were done. "It's kind of hard to think anything else when you haven't even given it a shot."
Not once in my life had I spoken to my mom the way I was speaking to her right now. The fact that she wasn't admonishing me about it should've been a warning for what was to come.
"Did you know your father had a sister?" my mom asked softly. I gaped at her because no I hadn't known.My dad barely spoke about his childhood other than he'd lost both his parents in a bus accident at the age of twenty.
When I said nothing, my mom gave me a wistful look. "You were named after her." She shook her head. "To this day, your father believes we cursed you when we gave you your name."
"What? Why?"
Smiling ruefully, my mom reached for my hand and I let her take it. "Your father's younger sister—your aunt—loved dancing. She lived and breathed it. And, oh Maddie, she was good too. Just like you."
There was a huge ball of emotion lodged in my throat. I could barely breathe around it, let alone swallow. I had no idea my mom had ever seen me dance. And I wanted to know all about the hows and whens right after I learned more about my namesake.
Mom gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "She was two years your dad's junior, and she had more drive and determination in her little finger than most people had in their entire lives."
After sucking in a rough breath, my mom's gaze shifted back to the fence. By the deep lines on her forehead and the sharp angles of her brows, I knew she was lost in some memory.
"What happened to her?" I asked in a whisper, afraid my interruption might startle her to her senses. Then Madison of the past would be lost to me forever.
"She had big dreams of joining the ballet and performing on the world's biggest stages." My mom didn't look at me as she spoke. "And your dad encouragedher to follow those dreams." Her eyes finally met mine. "He was her biggest cheerleader."
Oh, how I wished she hadn't said that. The knife stuck in my chest twisted and sliced away another piece of my heart. Why? Why couldn't he have beenmycheerleader then too? Gritting my teeth, I willed the stupid tears to stay away.
Maybe it was written all over my face, or it might've been a mother's intuition, but she knew. She was out of her chair and crouched in front of me faster than I could blink. Unlike me, she allowed the emotion to wet her cheeks.
"It's not your fault your father has not forgiven himself over what happened to his sister." Mom wiped a rough hand over her cheek before splaying her fingers over my leg again. "When he thinks of you dancing, all he sees is the way he found his baby sister in some dingy motel that charges by the hour."
