Page 44 of The Last Pirouette
When she finally called an end to the session, a palpable sense of contentment filled the room. Mats were rolled up, water bottles capped, and smiles exchanged. Several students lingered, wanting to express their gratitude. Eleanor, her face flushed with a healthy glow, held Harper’s hand for a moment, her eyes shining. “I haven’t felt this connected to my own body in years,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Harper. You’ve given me something I thought I’d lost forever.”
Harper squeezed her hand in return, her heart swelling with a profound sense of purpose. This was it. This was where she was meant to be. Not striving for unattainable perfection on a grand stage, but fostering healing and connection in a small, unassuming studio. She fully let go of the ghost of the dancer she was supposed to be.
Liam arrived, leaning against the doorframe just as the last of the class dispersed. He watched Harper for a moment, unseen, a look of immense, quiet pride on his face. He wasn't seeing a fallen prodigy; he was seeing a resilient, radiant woman creating something beautiful and new. The set of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her smile as she spoke to Eleanor, the way she moved through the room with such easy confidence. He knew how much work it had taken to get here, how much she had overcome.
He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked towards her, a familiar grin spreading across his face. “Hey, teach,” he said, his voice laced with affection.
Harper turned, her face lighting up at the sight of him. “Liam! What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d pick you up,” he said, shrugging casually. “Unless you’ve got other plans?”
“None that I can’t reschedule,” she said, grabbing her bag.
As they walked out of the community center, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows behind them, Harper asked, “How was practice?”
“Good,” Liam said, his voice surprisingly subdued. “Coach ran us through some new drills. Actually enjoyed it today. Didn't feel like so much pressure. Just... hockey.”
Harper smiled. “That’s great, Liam. I knew you’d find your way back to it.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, glancing at her. “It’s a lot easier when I know I’m not doing it for anyone else but me.”
As if summoned by the thought, his phone buzzed in the center console. He glanced at the screen."Dad."
Harper saw him take a quiet, steadying breath, but the panic that used to seize him wasn't there. He tapped the speakerphone button. "Hey, Dad. What's up?"
His father's boisterous voice filled the car. "Liam! Great news! I was talking to Coach Donnelly, and he said a scout from a D-1 school is coming to your next game, specifically to seeyou. This is it, son! This is the shot!"
Harper instinctively tensed, her heart aching for him. It was the same pressure as before , the same "golden ticket" expectation.
But Liam didn't tense. He just steered the car with one hand, his voice calm and even. "That's great, Dad. I'll be sure to play my best."
"Great? It's a full-ride scholarship, Liam! You gotta be focused! You need to—"
"Dad," Liam cut in, but his tone wasn't angry or defensive. It was just... firm. "I'll play my best because I love the game. That's it. The scholarship, the scouts... that's all just extra. It's not the goal anymore."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. "...Not the goal?"
"No, sir. I'm... I'm actually helping Harper build an adaptive movement program. I'm even thinking about changing my major to kinesiology or physical therapy. Hockey is part of my life, but it's not my whole life. I've got... other things I care about now."
Liam glanced at Harper, and she felt a warmth bloom in her chest that had nothing to do with the car's heater.
His dad stammered, "But... a scholarship..."
"I know. And I'll work hard. But I'm not going to break myself for it. It'll work out or it won't. Anyway, I'm with Harper right now. I gotta go. I'll see you at the game on Friday. Love you."
He hung up before his father could argue, letting out a slow, long breath. The car was quiet for a moment.
"Wow," Harper said softly. "Are you okay?"
Liam turned to her at a stoplight, and the smile he gave her was the lightest, most genuine one she'd ever seen. "Yeah," he said. "I really am."
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “You are, Harper. You really are.”
Instead of heading home, Liam drove them to the local ice rink, which was empty and echoing under the hum of the overhead lights. He had a key. He presented the quiet, private space to her as a gift, a chance to revisit their past on their own terms. The familiar scent of ice and the cold air hit her as they walked through the entrance, bringing back a flood of memories, both good and bad.
“What are we doing here, Liam?” she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.
He just grinned and held up a key. “Surprise.”
