Life After Taylah (2 page)

“Smoother,” Lyn orders. “You’re not moving smoothly enough, Avery.”

I close my eyes, concentrating harder. Three seconds later, I’m on the floor. My ankle twists beneath me and I cry out angrily, full of frustration. Lyn sighs, and walks over, kneeling down in front of me. “You have to get this right, Avery. It’s essential. How are you to teach the younger students if you can’t get the move right?”

She has a point; I have to get it perfect. I’m studying to be a ballet teacher with the academy, deciding that perusing a dancing career wasn’t something I truly wanted to do. I want to teach, it’s where my strength lies. I’ve been at the Ballet Academy since my mother, Taylah, went missing ten years ago. These people became my family, teaching me to dance and find my outlet. It’s my everything. My only escape. My only
passion.
I want to teach other children, maybe give them the same escape I was lucky enough to have.

“Take a break for the afternoon. We’ve been training for three hours. Go home, practice the routine and we’ll start first thing in the morning. You’re doing so well with everything else, we just need to get this one right.”

I nod, rubbing my tired ankles. “Thanks, Lyn.”

She reaches out, cupping my chin. I look up into her tired, blue eyes and I can see the pain there. She feels for me. I know she does. Sometimes it’s not a good thing. I don’t like having pity; I just want to be normal. That seems like it’s something I’ll never experience in my life.

“You’re an amazing dancer, Avery. You’re compassionate and strong,” she says, softly. “You just have to let go.”

She stands without another word and leaves the studio. I drop my head, fighting back everything inside myself. I know I have to be better, but to be better I have to let go. I get up each day and my routine is the same: I work until lunchtime and then I spend a few hours here, practicing and helping out the other teachers. Then I go home, sit alone most nights and spend my time trying to think about anything other than
her.

The years do not ease my pain; they only seem to put a coating on it. It’s never easy not knowing and that’s what it’s been like for us since she went. We just don’t know. There were investigations, there were questions, and there were searches and pleas. She never came back. We never found her. We don’t know if she’s dead or alive.

Our family fell apart.

“Avery.”

I lift my head to see Jacob, my boyfriend coming into the studio. Our relationship is somewhat organized so I can’t say love or attraction factor in the equation. My father is rich and very well-known in our town. He happens to be extremely close to Jacob’s family and their businesses run alongside each other. It’s almost been set from day one for Jacob and I to marry. It seems logical. I don’t fight it. There’s more than one reason why.

Jacob understands me.

Jacob doesn’t make me feel.

Jacob is easy.

That’s the way I want it. If I feel, I’m letting her down—forgetting her. I can’t let her down. Not ever. It’s easier if I do as I am instructed. My papa encourages me to dance because it’s the only place I feel passion. I’m almost sure he feels like it will heal something in me. He’s always paid for it. Without his money, I wouldn’t be able to study the way I do, nor would I be able to help all these students learn. Without this studio, I’d never be okay again.

“Jacob,” I whisper, staring at the man who I have basically signed my world over to.

Jacob isn’t a bad man, but he’s not entirely a good man either. He has a short temper. He is very professional. He is all about work. I believe there is a part of him that wants this with me, but there’s also a part that doesn’t. For his company’s sake, though, he goes along with it. He stands to inherit his father’s business as well as mine if we marry. He’s not about to let that fly.

“How did your class go today?” he asks, offering me a hand.

There are times Jacob is kind. He’s never sweet, but he can be kind. I’ve learned there’s a big difference between the two.

I take his hand and let him lift me to my feet.

“It was okay,” I murmur, slipping my shoes off and picking them up.

“Lyn said you did well.”

Lyn lied.

“I’m getting there.”

I turn to Jacob, and stare up at him. He’s six-foot tall and well built. He’s got shaggy blond hair and big blue eyes. His skin is pale and his features all seem to fit perfectly. His nose is straight and flawless. His lips aren’t too full, nor are they too thin. His jaw is square. His forehead is just the right width. He’s been carefully pieced together, yet his looks don’t excite me.

“Your dad called; he’s made dinner. He wants to discuss the business plans. You should be there.”

I sigh. My father tries to make us dinner often, but it never ends well. My brother, Liam, always ends up arguing with him and then storms out. I’m left with Jacob and my dad, and they just go on and on about the business.

My father is a bitter man. He has been since the day Momma went missing. He only shows passion when he speaks about his company; otherwise, his answers are grunts. I’m sure her going missing broke him as much as it did us, but he refuses to show it. He just shut down.

“I am going to see Liam tonight,” I say, lifting my bag.

“It’s important we attend. You know it means a lot to him.”

“I know,” I say. “But Liam hasn’t called for days, I’m worried about him.”

“Your brother is selfish and his attitude doesn’t help anything. He doesn’t deserve your concern.”

I stiffen. He knows nothing. He will never understand the kind of heartbreak that is left behind in such a situation.

“Don’t start with me, please. I don’t have the patience tonight,” I whisper, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“Well then maybe it’s best you don’t come, if you’re only going to upset your father with your unfortunate attitude.”

I grind my teeth together and turn, facing him. “You know what? You’re right. It is better I don’t come.”

I turn and walk towards the exit before he has the chance to speak. I’ve got nothing to say to Jacob when he’s acting as though I don’t care.

I care.

I’ve lived with my father daily after Mom went missing. I’ve lived with his grief, his anger, his frustration and his pain. I’ve watch my brother become involved with drugs and bad people. I’ve watched him sink. Through all this, I’ve lived with my own hurts. My own loss. My own broken soul.

He’ll never understand.

I get it better than anyone.

~*~*~*~

“O
pen up, Liam,” I yell, banging on my brother’s door. It’s a new apartment, but the door is broken, with big splinters of wood protruding out. That’s a result of the constant parties he has here.

It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen him, and he’s not returning my calls. I can hear loud, booming music coming from behind the door, and I know my brother is having yet another party. It’s his way of coping, and as much as I hate to seem him channeling his pain like this, I can’t blame him for it. We all have our own ways of dealing with these things.

“Liam!” I scream.

The door flings open and a tall, red-headed man stands in the gap. He stares down at me for a moment and a grin appears on his face, showing me a row of less-than-charming teeth. Yuck. I wrinkle my nose and stare past him at the unit full of drunks. They are swaying, staggering, singing horribly to the music and lying all over my brother’s furniture.

“Where’s Liam?” I ask.

“He’s occupied, but I’m sure I’ve got five minutes for you.”

I stare up at him, and mutter, “Yuck. Don’t flatter yourself. I’d rather lick the pavement.”

His face hardens, and he glares at me. “Too uppity for this side of town. Girls like you don’t belong here. Go home or I’ll sort you out myself.”

“Is that a threat?” I challenge, putting my hands on my hips.

I’m tall and slim, but I’ve got some grunt when I need it. I shove my long, honey-blond hair over my shoulder and stare him dead in the eye. He narrows his gaze, but soon becomes bored and turns. “Enter, I couldn’t care less.”

I step past him, staring around my brother’s unit. It’s so disgusting—yet the tragic thing is it’s a brand new unit. There are pizza boxes that have become soggy and moldy all over the coffee table. Beer bottles are strewn about, and there are clothes everywhere. People are filling the couches, the kitchen and apparently the bedrooms. I shove through them, needing to find my brother.

“He’s busy, Avery.”

I turn and see Liam’s best friend, Kelly. He’s standing with his hand on his hips. He’s a gorgeous man; I’ve always thought so. Kelly is a surfer, and he makes a living out of his skills alone. He’s got beach-blond hair that lightens at the tips. It’s only short, but it has soft curls that give him the ideal look for the beach. He’s olive, that beautiful kind of olive that makes his light-blue eyes look as though they’re almost translucent. He’s always here, trying to help Liam.

He never gives up, no matter how bad Liam treats him.

“I know,” I say, stepping closer.

Kelly reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll round him up soon. Go and get a drink. Sit outside, it’s nicer out there.”

“How are you?” I ask.

He smiles, showing me two, gorgeous dimples in his cheeks. “Competition next week. It’s a big one.”

“You’ll nail it.” I smile.

“What about you? How’s the dancing and the studying?”

“I’m doing okay. My mind just isn’t in it right now.”

He pulls me closer until my body is pressed against his. He wraps his arms around me and I sigh, leaning into him. Even though Kelly is Liam’s best friend, he’s always been extremely close to me, too.

“Don’t let people choose how your career goes, Avery. You have to fight for it.”

“I’m trying,” I murmur against his chest. “I truly am.”

He pulls back, and smiles down at me. Without Kelly, there are times I’d have sunk. He keeps me afloat. We’ve been friends for about five years, and he’s managed to be my rock through some seriously hard times. He’s got that beautiful kind of soul you don’t see often in people anymore. 

“You just keep trying.”

He gives me another smile, before turning and heading off. I shove my way through the people around until I reach the back door. My brother’s unit is ugly as they come because of the damage he’s inflicted upon it, but the entire block share a dazzling courtyard. I don’t know why it’s so nice, but somehow they all manage to keep it as the highlight.

I walk down the back steps and past a couple who are kissing so passionately I can see their tongues. I shudder and walk into the middle of the courtyard, taking a seat on the old garden chair. I breathe in the fresh air, and wonder who and what Liam is doing upstairs. He turns to women to make him feel better. To make him forget.

It doesn’t work.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing sitting out here all alone?”

I hear the husky, deep voice and turn, but I can only see the dull orange glow of a cigarette. I squint and I can see a shadow of a man leaning against a pole. I want him to come out. If his looks match that voice . . .

He steps out and my mouth drops open as he slowly walks towards me. My heart hammers when I realize who he is. No.
No way.
I must be imagining things. When the light is shining down over him, I actually rub my eyes to make sure I’m not crazy. It’s Nathaniel Alexander. He’s a world champion motocross racer. 

My mouth drops open as I take him in. Not only is Nate extremely talented, he’s also a favorite amongst women around the world. Girls go to his races just to see him. He’s the rock star of the motocross world.

It takes me a moment to be able to speak, because all I want to do is babble incoherent nonsense that won’t do me any good.

“That’s a bad pick-up line,” I finally manage to blurt out. The urge to smack myself in the forehead is overwhelming.

He chuckles softly. “I was never good at them.”

“So it seems.”

His smile widens, and he shoves a packet of smokes at me. “Want one?”

I shake my head. “My trainer would kill me.”

He cocks an eyebrow and steps forward. His big, black boots are unlaced, giving him that lazy, sexy look. “Trainer?”

I stare for a moment now he’s up close. I’ve seen him on television before but he’s so much better in person. Nate is all man. His hair is dark and about three inches long, sitting messily on his head. His jaw is square and covered in a few days’ growth that gives him the ultimate rugged look. He’s got full lips and a perfectly sculpted nose.

It’s his eyes that make him truly breathtaking, though. The eyes are what suck you in. They’re green. I don’t just mean any green, either; I’m talking a sparkling emerald green that blends with his gorgeous olive skin to create a look that is very rare in a male. They’re out of this world. They’re what women adore him for.

“I’m a dancer. Well, I’m training to be a dance teacher,” I finally stammer, answering his question.

He studies me. “Is that so?”

“It’s so.”

He hooks a finger through the faded denim jeans he’s wearing. They look incredible on him. “Do you have a name, Dancer?”

I smile. I can’t help it. “Do
you
have a name?”

“Don’t we all?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “I’m Nate.”

“I know.”

He raises both brows this time. “Then why did you ask?”

“Curiosity.”

He tilts his head. “Did you think I’d give you a fake name?”

I rub my hands over my cool legs. It’s slowly cooling down as the year goes on.  Winter isn’t far off. “Maybe, or perhaps I just needed confirmation.”

He drops the cigarette he’s smoking, and crushes it out with his boot. I watch as he moves, and I can’t help but admire the way his black tee pulls across his muscled chest. Nate would have to have a serious amount of upper body strength to be able to hold onto bikes the way he does.

“So, you know Liam, then?”

I frown. “He’s my brother.”

“No shit,” he murmurs, running a hand over the light stubble on his chin.

“And how do you know Liam?”