Finley
Eddie hesitates in the hallway of my floor, like he’s not sure if we’re back to a place where he gets to sleep over. I roll my eyes and nod toward the door. We tiptoe to my room, and once we’re behind the closed door, he turns on that “let’s talk about it” look on his face.
I’m so tired, I can hardly stand it. I know Eddie must be feeling even worse. Everything tonight—it’s draining in a way that physical exertion couldn’t ever top.
“It can wait, okay?” I kick off my shoes and crawl up to the pillow on my bed.
Eddie ditches his shoes and ends up beside me. “You sure?”
I press my cheek against the cool pillow and nod. Before I drift off, Eddie’s arm slips underneath me, pulling me closer until my face is buried in the crook of his neck. We fall asleep like that, fully dressed in our party clothes, the light still on.
• • •
I shoot upright, my breath ragged, my heart pounding. The room is dark but slowly coming into focus. And my mom…she was here. Or maybe I was there. Not that I don’t want to see her again—sometimes, I want that more than anything—but knowing that’s not possible makes her appearance more than a little freaky.
There’s a rustle beside me, and I’m too jumpy not to react. My elbow makes contact with a solid form.
“Ow!”
The lamp beside the bed clicks on, and Eddie is in front of me, holding a hand to his cheek and looking more than a little concerned. I glance around the bedroom, realizing quickly that I’d been dreaming. My face warms. Now I know why Eddie was so embarrassed by his brief flashback/nightmare that one night.
I sink back into my pillows, waiting for my heart to slow down. Then I see Eddie still holding his cheek. “I’m sorry. Did I hit you?”
“It’s fine.” He smooths a hand over my hair, which is sweaty and tangled. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I swallow the lump in my throat as the fear and emotions rush back. “I thought my mom was here. It was disorienting. I don’t really know where I was, but she was there, and she didn’t…she didn’t recognize me.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything at first, just kisses my hair and leaves his lips there. “This kind of thing happens to me when I’m really stressed. You can try to analyze it, but most likely, you just need some help. Figuring things out.”
The truth of his words cause a few tears to tumble down my cheeks. I don’t want to figure things out. I’m afraid to. I had a plan. It’s the right plan. Isn’t it?
He dips his head enough to look at me. “Just talk to me, please.”
I take a breath and then finally nod. “Tonight. Or last night. Whichever. Eve said something that…well, I don’t know what it means.”
I explain what she said about my pictures and all the theories about finding what you love and doing it. And how it’s making me doubt turning down the company audition. “But then there’s the studio… If I don’t open it—”
Eddie’s forehead wrinkles with concern. “Is this my fault? Because of what I said the other night? I shouldn’t have tried to make decisions for you.”
“I don’t think it’s that.” I brush a finger over his now-bruised cheek and then lift my head to kiss it. “I’ve never really let myself think about what dancing is for me. But Eve’s right—it’s never work for me. Even when it is, you know?”
He shakes his head but smiles. “I’m not sure I’m there yet. Too much was decided for me my whole life. I haven’t had a chance to think about what my version of dance is.”
Hearing him admit that doesn’t make things any easier. I know what I’m meant to do, and he doesn’t. I’m lucky and maybe throwing all that away. It seems cliché, but I think it’s true.
“You know what I think you should do?” Eddie asks, and I shake my head. “Talk to your dad about this. You’re keeping a lot from him, and I imagine that’s the biggest cause of your nightmare-inducing stress.”
I sigh. He’s right. I need to talk to Dad. But there’s one thing my dad can’t help me work out.
“Don’t think I’m pathetic,” I say, preparing to tell him what else is holding me back. “But I’m not excited about the idea of traveling all over the place with a dance company because I…I like being here. With you.” I turn my head, pressing my face into his shoulder. If Summer heard that, she’d give me a dozen different lectures.
“I kind of hate that part too,” Eddie says, stroking my hair again. “But I’m not going anywhere. You can dance around the world for five years, and I’ll still be here waiting for you to come back. So now who’s pathetic?”
I lift my head. “Yeah?” He nods, his hands lifting to touch my face. “Promise?”
“I promise. So give yourself some time to process without deciding yet.” He kisses me, long and slow, adding weight to his words.
My eyes flutter and then close. I fall into this trap door of heated kisses and lips on my skin. “Maybe this is your thing…does it feel like work?”
Eddie laughs, his mouth against my neck. “Uh-uh.”
“Well, there you go.” I turn my thoughts off for a little while while Eddie distracts me, and then I have a whole new thought. I press a hand to his chest and hold him back. “You know, you’re really good with my brothers. Maybe you’re a kid person? Or a teacher?”
“Hopefully, I’m a kid person,” he says, half-joking, half-serious. The anxiety of what’s to come returns to his face.
I feel guilty for bringing this back to the surface. I mean, he can’t do anything but wait, so for Eddie, there is no point in worrying or obsessing over outcomes tonight. “Okay, it’s my turn to distract you.”
“I’m in,” he says with a smile.
But while I’m working through the buttons of his shirt, I can’t help thinking, what will it do to him if he loses? If Mason—I’m calling him Mason, I don’t care what anyone else says—ends up with the handpicked, apparently perfect adoptive family?
I don’t want to think about that any more than Eddie does, but the reality is that it’s a likely outcome. It’s likely a judge will not see Eddie as the best option for this baby. For his child.