Page 6 of Wounded Dance
He presses his hand to his forehead. “Damn, dance boy,” he says. “I didn’t figure on you being a heavy.”
“I figured on you being an asshole,” Blitz says. “I should have done it sooner.”
Denham struggles to his feet, his hand on the back of his neck. He takes a step toward me, but Blitz moves in again.
Denham holds up his hands. “All right, all right. Simmer down.” He tilts his head so he can see me around Blitz’s body. “This isn’t over, Livia. I’m going to find that baby.”
He glances up at the giant letters of Dreamcatcher Dance Academy. “And I know where to find y’all.”
Denham turns and stumbles off. He opens the door to a beat-up dark green pickup truck and sits down.
Blitz closes my door and walks around. We wait a moment until Denham starts his truck and screeches off down the street.
“You okay?” Blitz asks. He reaches for my hand and lifts my fingers to his lips.
I manage to nod. I’m so scared he will be freaked out by what he’s learned about me. Nobody’s ever known who Gabriella’s father is, except my parents. They wouldn’t even tell the doctor, and I knew from eighth-grade science that a baby from related people could have problems.
But we weren’t related. It had all been a lie.
I shake my head. So much to sort out. I want to talk to my parents, but they aren’t speaking to me right now.
And…as for parents, I am supposed to meet Blitz’s in a few hours.
Is that still on?
Ishestill on?
His warm lips against my fingers seem to indicate we are fine. I glance over at him. He watches me with concern. “You want to talk about it now?” he asks.
I don’t, but I know I have to.
“Denham showed up one summer, a couple months before my fifteenth birthday,” I say. “His aunt brought him. Didi. She was old and pretty sick. And Denham was wild. His mother had not been very involved in his life and had overdosed on something. Her heart stopped, I think.”
My grip on Blitz’s hand is like a lifeline. “The aunt met with Dad privately, and then left Denham with us.”
“Your mother let that happen?” Blitz asks.
“She wasn’t happy about it, but Dad said he was homeless, that he was a distant cousin’s kid. We only had to have him two years, until he graduated.”
“Was he an all-right kid?”
Remembering Denham the way he was then softens me. I can breathe again. “He was larger than life. Wild, for sure. He came in with his big black boots and silver chains and a tattoo even though he was underage. But he was a charmer, you know?” I realize I’m gushing a little and add, “Even though he’d been kicked out of two schools.”
“So obviously something happened between the two of you.”
My body goes cold. I can’t talk about that with Blitz. They are my most private memories.
I decide to keep it simple. “Yes. It went on for a couple months and then one day Denham just couldn’t take it anymore. He told me my dad was his father too.”
“God,” Blitz says. “I can’t even imagine what that felt like.”
“I ran straight to them. Dad exploded and kicked Denham out. He drove him back to the aunt’s. I didn’t see him again.”
“So you didn’t know you were pregnant then?”
“Not for another several weeks. I was upset, not eating, pretty distraught. Anything that would have been a pregnancy symptom was just mixed up in my distress.”
“And then you moved.”
