Page 23 of The Comeback

“And now, she dances?” She rolls her eyes. “Great transition from basketball to spinning around in circles. Besides, I can’t dance.”

“Have you tried?”

“No, and I’m not going to. My body is too stiff. When I move, it hurts. You and mom need to get over things going back to how they were. They aren’t going to. I’m not going to be an athlete again. I’m lucky I can walk.”

I growl under my breath. How do parents do it? I want to shake her every time she sounds like a victim. She’s never been like this. She was the most determined kid I knew. At nine months old, she was standing, and by ten months old, she took her first step. The fact she’s giving up at thirteen years old is beyond comprehension.

Take a deep breath. Don’t engage in an argument. I inhale and slowly exhale, snapping a smile on my face. “Then you can watch me work out.”

“Great. That sounds like a blast.”

Lord, grant me the serenity. “Here it is.” I drop my arm from her shoulder and twist the doorknob open.

Charlotte is a gorgeous woman, and watching her dance was mesmerizing. I was a fool to think ballet wasn’t a sport. The fact she can point her toes above her head…. I moan under my breath. I don’t need to think about how sexy she is with my sister in tow.

I like Charlotte. She’s the type of person I see spending the rest of my life with. Except, I have too much going on to sweep her off her feet and convince her that life with a football player wouldn’t be as bad as she’s envisioned.

“Don’t get all kissy face with this woman. I don’t want to see it.”

“What are you talking about?” I stop in the middle of the doorway and stare down at her.

“Please.” She shakes her head. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You’ve got a thing for the instructor, or you wouldn’t be dragging me around trying to convince the woman you’re a catch. Although, I must give her credit if she’s resisting all your moves, and you have to resort to me.”

I narrow my eyes. “That might work if you were a cute two-year-old rather than a goth-wearing thirteen-year-old with a poor me attitude.”

“You have a valid point.”

Charlotte marches up to us and shoves out her hand toward Piper. “Hello, my name is Charlotte Tillman, and you must be Piper.” She smirks. “And you’re both in luck. I went through a goth stage while growing up as well.”

As they shake hands, I try to envision her in all black, but the closest I can get is a black corset on white silk sheets. It’s not goth, but it’s more effective.

“So, are you ready to watch your brother slip on a pink tutu and leap across the stage?”

“That’s not–”

“Yes, I am. He got me up at 4:30 a.m. and dragged me across town. He should have to wear the full outfit.” Piper smiles for the first time in months, and I’m almost willing to toss that tutu on over my black gym shorts. Almost. But I’m not crazy.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Charlotte laces her arm through Piper’s like they’re lifelong friends. “Come on back to the studio. Weston told me you used to dance.”

“Yes, several years ago. I took classes from preschool to fourth grade but stopped when I got heavy into soccer.” She swallows as the smile drops from her face like an anvil falling from the sky. “But now, neither of them is an option.”

“What did the doctors say was your prognosis?”

Piper’s face is devoid of emotion, but I can tell from the set of her shoulders that talking about her injury is making her uncomfortable. “He said I could resume normal low-impact exercises such as walking and yoga, but my competitive sports days are over.”

I follow behind them and try not to fall harder for Charlotte. Piper was right. I’m more interested in her than I want to be. No, that’s not true. I want to be interested in her, but I shouldn’t be. I can’t be.

My only focus is football. There isn’t another option. Falling in love and getting into a long-term relationship is down the line. After I get my contract, I can think about that. Or after retirement.

Charlotte’s hair is pulled up high on her head, leaving a few tendrils of hair brushing against her neck. Her confidence in her body, even after all that she’s been through, it’s something I admire. She tilts her head, and I want to stroke my finger along the curve of her cheek.

Forget retirement. I’m not waiting that long. Secure the contract. Then, get the girl.

“Here.” She picks up a chair and sets it by the edge of the wooden dancefloor. “Have a seat. This way, you’ll have a front-row view of your brother.”

“Peachy.” Piper falls into the chair, crosses her arms over her chest, and slides down until her butt is barely keeping her on the chair. Teenagers. Was I this big of a pain in the ass? Surely, I wasn’t.

Charlotte walks across the room and turns on the stereo. The room fills with the sounds of a romantic ballad, and I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously? Where’s the football-themed music?”

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