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)
Breathe. You have to breathe.
“Not the point. How did you know I’d be here? I still have your phone.” His stern voice was at complete odds with the gentle pressure he used to keep me steady.
“I didn’t know you were here until I saw the truck.” Juniper motioned to the royal blue late-model pickup in the driveway. “I came to see her.” That hand swung around, gesturing at me. “Just because you took my phone doesn’t mean I can’t log on to the website when Mom isn’t using her computer. It notifies both people when it finds a connection, you know.” She looked at me, her entire expression shifting from fearless to apprehensive as she swallowed, her hands falling to her sides. “You weren’t lying. You’re not my mother. But it says we’re related. How?”
So much for waiting for Caroline.
I took a deep breath and prepared for the world to change. “I’m your aunt.”
“So you really have a ballet studio here?” Juniper asked ten minutes later, staring at the double doors off the foyer that kept the studio private.
“We do.” I handed her a glass of lemonade as Hudson followed me out of the kitchen post-emergency-game-plan-session with his, not that either of us had a clue what to do. I sipped mine, hoping the quick burst of sugar would kill the knee-wobbling feeling of being way over my head. “My father inherited this house. It was his favorite place to be. But the only way my mother would agree to let us spend summers out here was if he turned what had been a ballroom into a studio so we wouldn’t miss the crucial summer months of training.” Reaching past her, I turned the handle and pushed the door open to reveal the L-shaped studio.
Juniper gasped and her eyes brightened in a way mine never had for the space.
“It looks smaller from this angle than it is, because it runs down the side of the house.” I walked around her and into the studio, flicking the switch on the right as I passed. The lights came on, not that they were necessary this time of day. The twenty-by-thirty-foot space was perfectly lit by the wall of windows that made up the front and southeast faces of the house, and the line of continuous mirrors on the other side didn’t hurt either.
The floor shone. The mirrors didn’t hold a single fingerprint. There were no water bottles scattered around the windows, or ballet bags tossed against the wall. The speakers built into the ceiling were silent, and yet I was struck with the overwhelming urge to hurry to the barre before my mother caught me slacking.
“It’s beautiful,” Juniper whispered reverently, stepping inside.
“No shoes.” I shook my head.
“Oh, right.” Lemonade kissed the edge of the glass but didn’t overflow as she kicked off her sneakers and hurried in, like I might retract the invitation if she waited too long.
“That means you too,” I said to Hudson as he followed her in.
“I remember the rules.” He motioned toward his shoeless feet with his empty hand. “Though it’s been a few years.”
I sucked in a breath. The last time we’d been in this room together, he’d watched me practice the variation from Giselle for hours in preparation for the Classic. He’d been my number one supporter and, little did he know, my biggest distraction. After all, who could concentrate when Hudson Ellis was in the room?
You can, because you’re not a teenager anymore.
Juniper walked past me and looked around the corner, where the true space began. “And you have a gym too?”
“The last ten feet,” I confirmed, watching her expressions shift from wonder to curiosity as I caught up. “What we do back there makes it possible to do what we can up here.”
“This is how you’re training away from the Company,” Juniper noted, setting her lemonade on the windowsill and climbing over the Pilates machine at the edge of the mat. “Eva made it sound like you were quitting by coming out here.”
I blinked, and my steps faltered.
“She watches Seconds,” Hudson reminded me in a whisper, reaching my side.
Oh. Right.
“I mean, most ballerinas rehab at their company.” She shot me a knowing look and walked by the free weights stacked along the mirror. It was an accusation and question all in one.
“I’m not quitting.” My spine stiffened at the implication. “I recover better on my own, without”—competitors salivating over my demise—“eyes on me.” I took another sip of the tart lemonade and composed myself. “Besides, Eva knows how the algorithm works. Anything controversial or negative is going to get engagement.” And what she really wanted was followers.
“So you’ll be back for the fall season?” Juniper trailed her fingers along the barre.
“That’s the plan.” In time to debut Equinox in the fall season, as long as Vasily liked what he saw on the recording and gave us the go-ahead.