Breaking Skin (4 page)

“What is it, Nikki?” he finally asks.

I grind my teeth at his impatient tone. “When you decided we were through, it would have been considerate of you to inform me. Don’t you think?”

“When
I
decided.” He steps closer. “This is your doing, not mine.”

“Excuse me? Meredith is my doing?” I can’t believe his gall.

He takes a step closer. “When was the last time we were together? Not just to fuck, but to do anything?”

I cringe at his crudeness. “We’re always together. I see you every day at—”

“Rehearsal? Is that what you’re going to say? That’s work. When was the last time we were together outside of work?”

When I think back, I realize he has a point. “I have to rehearse. You know I’m trying to get a solo part.”

“It’s hardly a sacrifice, though, is it? You don’t care about me. You only care about yourself.” He crosses his arms and shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t want to have to say this, but you need to hear it. You’re a good dancer, Nikki. When you dance, it’s a beautiful thing to watch. It truly is. But you’re not a great dancer, and there are very few people on this planet who can tell the difference. I’m one of them, and so is Dennis.”

My mouth falls open.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Dancing is everything to me too. But you need to put it in perspective. One day you won’t have dance anymore, and you’ll look around and realize you don’t have anything else either.”

His words slice into me. He just took my greatest fears and gave them substance, found my weak spot and stabbed it with a hot poker.

“You’re such a bastard.” I push the words past the tightness in my throat.

Tag releases a heavy sigh. “I’m just being honest. I’m sorry if the truth hurts.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me to stare at the empty space he once filled. He couldn’t just say he wants to be with someone else or that things aren’t working between us. He had to make it my fault and rip me to shreds in the process.

When someone approaches and stops in front of me, I exhale and lean back against the wall.

“Are you okay?”

Deedee’s concerned face hovers before me and I nod, but it isn’t the truth.

“What happened? What did he say?”

“Nothing.” There’s no way I want to repeat Tag’s words to Deedee or anyone else, but they continue to echo in my head.

“Nikki, come on. Did you let him have it, at least? Call him any interesting names?” She examines me closer and scowls. “No. You didn’t. You’re too nice for that. Where is he? I’ll go do it for you.”

I grab her sleeve. “Please. No more drama. It’s been a long day.”

She gives me a sympathetic look, not unlike the one Tag just wore, except hers is genuine. It doesn’t turn my stomach.

“Come on,” she says, reaching for my hand. “I’m taking you home with me. Ian can go entertain himself for the night. I’ve got wine and free cable I steal from my neighbor. We’ll hang out, and then on Sunday morning, you’re taking Brandi to the park for a walk, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I laugh, but the sound is hollow. “First I have to go out there and show everyone I’m okay.”

The truth is, I just want to go home and forget what Tag said because a quiet voice inside me keeps whispering
he’s right
.

There was a time when I believed in myself, but that time is long past. Ballet is too competitive, too cutthroat to encourage praise, but criticism exists in abundance.

Dennis fosters a brutal atmosphere in the rehearsal studio. He thinks it makes us work harder, but I think it’s breaking me down little by little, day by day, until someday soon I’ll have nothing but hate for the thing in life I once loved the most.

I
peel my eyes open and see Renee, a nude silhouette, tiptoe around my bedroom in the dark as she picks her clothes up off the floor. She doesn’t want to wake me, wants to leave without a word.

My beautiful neighbor is a puzzle I can’t quite put together. Sometimes she comes on too strong and acts as if there’s more between us than there really is. Other times, she pulls away and becomes distant. Most often Renee pulls away, and it’s just as well.

“I thought your sitter was doing an overnight.”

She startles and places a hand over her chest. “Sorry, Cole. Did I wake you?”

“It’s okay.” I push myself into a sitting position to see her better.

“Isn’t your son coming in the morning?” she asks as she tugs her shirt over her mussed dark hair.

It’s an excuse. She knows better. “He’s not coming until lunchtime. I thought I mentioned that.”

“Oh, right,” she says, continuing to dress as she nearly trips over her own feet and then rights herself with a soft giggle.

I wonder if the wine she drank last night is still in her system.

“Even so,” she says, “I have a lot to do tomorrow. Langley needs a whole new wardrobe. She’s growing like a weed.”

“Kids will do that.”

Langley is Renee’s little girl, a sweet kid with long brown curls, but she’s quieter than most of the kids I’m used to, just like her mother is quiet. I don’t know who Langley’s father is or if Renee is divorced or ever got married. I only know that no one who could be the kid’s father ever comes around. No one really comes around at all. It looks like Renee and Langley are on their own.

When I ask Renee about herself, she speaks in generalizations. I know she has a mother who’s ill and a sister she doesn’t like much. I can’t blame her, based on what she’s told me about this sister.

Langley proudly says her aunt is a dancer with the San Francisco Ballet Company, and she obviously idolizes her. Renee teaches dancing to kids at a local studio, which makes me wonder if jealousy taints Renee’s opinion of her sister. Even so, from what I can see, this sister never visits, never comes to see the niece who talks about her all the time. According to Renee, she never helps out with their mother either.

When you leave your family behind and don’t look back, it says something about your character. I’ve met too many people like that. I was married to a woman like that. Never forget where you come from, and if you have the means, give back when you can. My parents ingrained that in us, and my siblings and I live by it.

Renee pulls on her skirt, and I admire the delicate swell of her hips. She’s a beautiful woman, but every time I’m with her she makes me feel as if I’m hurting her. Not physically, but emotionally, as if she doesn’t want me anywhere near her the moment after she comes. I dig deep, looking for some feeling that goes beyond lust and sympathy for Renee, but it’s just not there.

When she’s finished dressing, I stand up and pull on my jeans. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s what? Thirty feet to my front door?”

There’s a smile on her lips but she seems flustered, brushing hair away from her face that wasn’t there in the first place. It’s a strange reaction, considering what we just did together in my bed.

“I want to.” I smile casually in hopes of putting her at ease. The more I think about it, the more I decide something happened to this woman, something terrible.

An awkward silence ensues as we walk through my house, and I almost wish I’d stayed asleep in bed the way she obviously hoped I would.

I agree to say good-bye from my front door, but only because I can see her house from there, and I intend to make sure she gets home safely.

When I automatically pull her in for a casual good-bye kiss, her body stiffens and I think,
This is it. This is the last time
. I don’t know why she’s here. Maybe she’s using me for something, but whatever the reason, I don’t think I’m helping. It feels more like I’m hurting.

I watch Renee until she disappears safely inside her house. Then I go into my kitchen and sit down at the table. It’s two in the morning, and dealing with Renee leaves me feeling empty. This was definitely the last time.

I look out the window, toward the old maple tree that grows in the middle of the backyard. When I bought this house, I knew that strong, thick trunk was perfect for a tree house. Derek and I are designing it together. We got the frame up the last time he was here, and I promised not to work on it until he comes back again. The promise was unnecessary because I don’t intend to cut a single piece of wood or hammer one nail without my son by my side. I wish he could be with me all the time, but thanks to Celeste, that’s not possible anymore.

Staying married to Celeste for Derek’s sake was a sacrifice I was willing to make, but my ex-wife didn’t feel the same way. When my hockey career ended, I had a feeling she wouldn’t stick around. I saw the writing on the wall.

She moved on to a teammate of mine because she didn’t intend to lose the good life she had, filled with parties, cheering fans, and championships. Celeste wants the limelight. She doesn’t want CT scans and rehab, or fans who move on to other players in the blink of an eye. Instead of being supportive, she was angry at me because I got hurt and her life changed.

Now Celeste and Luke, my former right defenseman, are getting married. Derek spends half his time with them and the other half with me. If I think about it too hard, it burns me up and makes me want to do something drastic, like take Derek and run. But I can’t do that. He needs his mother. So I try not to think about it and instead make my time with Derek count. Celeste was a mistake, but because of her I have Derek, and I could never think of him as a mistake.

Before going back upstairs, I clean up from last night, wash out the wineglasses and put the plates that held our takeout Thai food in the dishwasher. When I toss the cartons in the garbage, I spot the empty bottle of wine sitting at the bottom of the pail. I know we didn’t finish the wine last night, and I left the bottle on the counter before we went upstairs. Now it’s empty and lying in the garbage.

Did Renee come back down and drink it after I fell asleep? Was that why she looked tipsy before she left?

I press my lips together as I push the pail back under the sink and wonder what demons are chasing Renee, not that I can ask her. She wants me inside her body but not her life. It’s for the best since Renee needs more than I can give her.

I reach for my phone and pull up my schedule. I’m supposed to pick Derek up this afternoon, but I can’t remember what time. It’s in my phone, along with everything else I can’t afford to lose track of. Sometimes trying to recall things is like grasping a tiny thread, frayed at the end and unraveling more each day.

One day it will become so bare that it slips from my fingertips and disappears entirely.

T
he beeping of my cell phone drags me out of a deep sleep, and the first thing I’m aware of is hot, dank breath moistening my cheek.

What the hell?
It takes a moment to orient myself, but once I do, I smile.
Siegfried.

I turn off the alarm on my phone as Siegfried jumps down to the floor. The sound of a seventy-pound dog hitting the hardwood makes me wince when I think of my downstairs neighbors and all the new noises that must be coming from my apartment. The fact that they haven’t complained is a surprise.

Then again, I have no idea who lives down there. I move too often to get to know my neighbors, always on the lookout for short-term cheaper rentals and ways to save money, but I respect their tolerance. I just hope it holds up, otherwise I’ll have to pack up and move again.

You’d think the world of ballet would pay better, but I barely make enough to live on. Every dollar I can save counts, which is why buying a dog was a really dumb idea. But I can’t seem to care when Siegfried licks my face and brings a slobbery tennis ball back to me.

Now that I’m awake, Siegfried is undoubtedly sitting by his bowl in the kitchen, waiting for his breakfast. With him out of the room, it’s perfectly quiet, as if the rest of the world is asleep the way I should be so early on a Sunday morning. But I’m excited to get to the youth center today. I always look forward to going, but today is different because I’m introducing the kids to my new old dog. New to me, old in dog years.

Deedee’s plan for me to walk her dog in the park for the purpose of picking up single men didn’t go exactly as planned. Instead of meeting eligible, animal-loving single guys, walking her dog made me want a dog of my own.