One Step Closer(46)

The only pointe shoes she had here were the first ones she’d ever owned, and they were very well used. Caleb had bought them for her years ago and they were beat up so bad they offered little support anymore; the fabric was peeling away from the tips to expose the hard structure beneath. Despite their condition, Wren couldn’t bear to throw them out; they might was well have been made of gold. Untouched for years, they hung by their ribbons over the corner of the mirror in a position of honor and memory. She made a mental note to take them with her when she traveled back to New York.

With Edison gone, it wasn’t likely she’d be visiting very often. Depending on what Caleb’s plans were, she had no idea if he’d even keep this house. Sadness flooded through her at the thought of never being in this house again. There were some hard times within these walls, but it held so many great memories, too. Her heart skipped a beat as she ran a hand lovingly over the ripped and frayed satin of the shoes she treasured as if they were the Hope Diamond.

She remembered when Caleb had surprised her by taking her to a dance studio in one of the northern suburbs the day after her fifteenth birthday. She could see it play out in her mind as if it were happening right then and there.

His face had been bruised and his lower lip split from the fight he’d fought the night before. It had been a few months since she’d stopped dressing in her disguise, and he had made sure he was with her whenever Veronica was around.

With Jonesy’s help, the two of them had been able to keep pretty good track of the modeling shoots, promotional trips or vacations that Veronica went on with Edison, and Caleb kept a handwritten note in his front right jean pocket. They began to look forward to the freedom they gained when their parents were gone. Caleb made Wren a priority whether they were in town or not.

Wren’s eyes started to burn, and her throat ached.

He’d been so diligent in his efforts to keep her safe at home and at school. Her mother had been less cruel once Caleb warned her off, however she still kept Wren from dancing, which was the only thing she wanted in the world. Forbidding her daughter from taking classes was her one last avenue of torture.

When they pulled up to the outside, she was excited to see where there were.

“Cale, what are we doing here?”

“You like to dance, don’t ya?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

It was a cold March day and he’d stolen the keys to Veronica’s Mercedes. When he’d shown up after school in it, she wasn’t even afraid of her mother’s wrath because she was with Caleb; hesitating a mere three seconds before sliding into the luxurious leather seats.

“Yes!” Wren was giddy with happiness. “But—”

“But nothing! Come on.” Caleb had been almost as excited as she was.

He took her hand and pulled her with him across the parking lot; toward the studio, then in through the door. The smell of the sweat, rosin, and wood assaulted her nostrils and brought back many happy memories of when she was very young. Her face almost hurt from the big smile she couldn’t quell.

“May I help you?” A young woman, with her dark hair scraped back in a tight bun and dressed in a leotard, had asked from behind the front counter.

“Yeah. I’m Caleb Luxon. I called last week. About the lessons?”

Joy filled every cell of Wren’s body at the words, though she was uncertain they’d be able to carry it off or how she’d afford it. She was certain she wouldn’t be allowed to continue, though she would be satisfied with just an afternoon on the wood.

The woman’s face twisted wryly and she smiled. “For you?” Her eyes skated over Caleb’s face, handsome, even though he was injured.

He laughed. “No. I spoke to Emily Mason about lessons for Wren Brashill.”

The girl’s expression changed, as recognition dawned on her. “Oh, yes. Emily told me you’d be coming by today. She’s teaching a class until 4:30, but instructed me to help Wren get the paperwork filled out.”

The woman handed Wren a clipboard with a form on it and a pen attached, but she hesitated to take it. “Cale, I can’t.” She shook her head adamantly.

He put one arm around Wren, took the clipboard from the receptionist with the other, and turned her toward the waiting room in one motion, speaking in low tones right by her ear. “Yeah, you can. I’ll handle the hag-a-saurus.”

“But—”

Caleb nodded toward a chair, indicating that she should sit down, and then handed her the clipboard when she did. She looked up at him, towering over her. Even in a heavy leather jacket with his hair flopping boyishly over his forehead, he looked tough as hell, his vibrant blue eyes piercing. “Come on. You’re doing this.” His expression was adamant and she started to hope it was possible.

“How will I get here?”

Caleb’s mouth thinned in frustration and he rolled his eyes. “Wren, will you have a little faith? I got this.” Their eyes locked and his lips lifted in a sly smile. “Fill that thing out, but put down my cell number, not your mom’s. You just hafta trust me. ”

And she did. She trusted Caleb more than anyone in the world. She put the pen to the paper.

“You’ll be required to pay for the first month and the registration fee, up front,” the counter girl mentioned.

Caleb turned back toward the counter, pulling a wad of cash out of his coat pocket. “Like I said when I called, she’s more like a professional. She needs the real good lessons. Advanced stuff.”