Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“I could,” Anne mumbled.
“Knock it off.” Kenna threw a pillow at her, and Anne deflected, then hugged it to her chest.
“I didn’t make the cut for the MBC summer intensive that year,” Everett admitted, running his fingers through his hair so it stuck straight up. “I auditioned in January, and didn’t make it.”
“Impossible.” I shook my head. “You were here that summer, and Mom only allowed kids who were accepted into that program to come . . .” My ribs tightened around my lungs.
“Yeah. That.” He nodded. “That was the price. I could train with the Rousseau girls, and she’d cover my room and board in town, as well as secure me a place in the Classic so I could compete for an MBC contract.”
I forced myself to breathe, then drank down half my glass of lemonade, focusing on the tart, sour flavor.
“Machiavelli had nothing on your mom,” Kenna said.
“I really thought you knew,” Everett said to me. “I thought that’s why you were always so nice to me.”
“I’ve always liked you because you’re . . . you.” I could hardly fault him for keeping secrets when I kept so many of my own.
His gaze whipped to Anne. “They said it would be confidential. Your mother promised me no one would ever know.”
“She only kept this copy of the birth certificate, from what I’ve found,” she told him. “But you were always going to be found, Everett. They changed the law a few years ago. Once she turns eighteen, Juniper will have access to her records.”
“Well, that’s . . .” He swallowed. “Good to know.”
“I thought I knew her,” Anne whispered. “And every day I’m realizing I knew nothing.”
“No one knows everything about everyone,” Everett said. “We all keep things to ourselves.”
Gravel crunched in the driveway, and we all looked out of the window as a black Range Rover pulled in.
“Are we having a house party I don’t know about?” Anne asked.
“That’s the third element of getting your role back,” Kenna said, unfolding from the couch and walking across the living room. “I can rehab your ankle, but what you need is an instructor.”
“Did she call your mom?” Everett whispered.
She wouldn’t. My stomach lurched.
“Doubtful,” Anne replied. “Mom is a little . . . self-absorbed at the moment.”
“What did you do?” I asked Kenna as I stood. Every instructor I knew was teaching intensives this time of year.
“I’d never call your mother,” Kenna called back from the foyer, then opened the door.
“Baby!” Eloise stepped into the house in a red sheath dress and hugged Kenna, then looked over her sunglasses at Kenna’s athletic wear. “What are you wearing? No matter. My bags are in the car. I’ll take Sophie’s room, of course.”
Oh, holy shit.
She hadn’t called my mother. She’d called hers.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Allie
When the time came for summer intensives as a kid, and Mom spared no expense for bringing her hand-selected instructors to the cape, she’d always save the hardest, the most demanding teacher for last.
It was no coincidence that teacher was her best friend.
Eloise unpacked, told Anne to prepare lunch, and ordered Everett and me into the studio.
“We have our work cut out for us, don’t we?” That was all she said as she changed the music in the stereo.
The next two days passed in a blur. Once Kenna confirmed my ankle was cleared without restriction, Eloise was merciless. She demanded perfection, and when we didn’t give it, she put us through combination after combination until we got it right or she decided we were too exhausted to continue.
When Hudson brought Juniper over the evening of Eloise’s third day, the teacher hung back as I worked with her. She watched, she assessed, and to my surprise, she smiled once we were done.
“Do you know who I am?” Eloise asked as Juniper put her slippers into her bag. “I only ask because you were staring in that mirror like you did.”
“You’re Eloise Lowell,” Juniper whispered reverently. “You were a soloist at MBC before you became an instructor.”
“That’s right.” She nodded. “Would you like me to help teach you while I’m here?”
“Think carefully before you answer, Juniper.” I took off my own slippers, wincing at the sight of my feet. That blister on my right foot had popped in the last hour despite the cushion I’d wrapped onto it, and Eloise wasn’t a fan of Ouch Pouches. “Eloise is the best, but she’s not afraid to hurt your feelings.”
Eloise arched a brow.
“Yes, please,” Juniper responded, lifting her chin. “I can take it.”
Eloise chuckled. “I think you can. Now run off to your . . .” She threw a glance toward the doorway, and I looked up to see Hudson waiting, his hair still wet from showering after the pool.
My pulse jumped, and that sweet, biting pressure I refused to name filled my chest. It was beyond liking him. Beyond caring for him. But I wasn’t giving it the power of a label.