Page 119 of Healing Eleanor

She stands, handing me the jacket, but pauses, turning back. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’ve seen me at my worst… and I’ve seen you at yours. I’m just saying… I’m here for you. You can’t scare me away. In a weird way, it’s kind of nice to see that you’re not good at everything.” She smirks subtly. “For a moment, I was beginning to think you were perfect.”

I want to speak. Want to tell her that last night means more to me than I can admit, that seeing her here makes me want her in more ways than she can imagine. But the words lodge in my throat. A silent nod is all I can manage, my stomach churning with a mixture of shame and desperate longing.

She turns on her heel and strides back into the studio, leaving me alone, cold and aching, with a strange mix of relief and dread twisting through me.

What… just happened?

My alarm goes off shortly after she leaves.

I don’t want to walk back inside. The conversation with Eleanor leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way I’m not used to. But what she said is true. I’ve seen her at her worst, and now she’s seen me at mine. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I hope God can use it for good somehow.

When rehearsals resume, I stay mostly quiet. The anger has ebbed, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. I don’t have the energy to fight, and ending early is out of the question since Kasper’s watching my every move.

Everyone performs well, but Eleanor stands out. She seems to pour herself into every movement, especially during her pas de deux with Gabriel and the thirty-two fouettés she tackles as Odile, a challenge she’s still struggling to master. The dancers walk on eggshells around me, and the awareness stings.

Of course, this close to opening night, I’m demanding a polished outcome, but not at the cost of being hated. And right now, I worry I’m teetering on that line. My patience is thin, fraying with every passing minute.

When rehearsal ends, I’m beyond ready to leave. I need a shower, food, my bed… anything but this hollow, exhausted routine.

As everyone begins to filter out, I stop Dillon, Gabriel, and Lily from following. “Can I talk to you guys for a minute?”

Their expressions remain guarded, yet they stay put, allowing me the chance to apologize.

Gabriel crosses his arms. “What’s up?”

I exhale heavily, my gaze shifting between the three of them. “I’m sorry for earlier. I’m just… having a rough day.”

Lily’s annoyance softens into concern. “Is everything alright? How’s Mama Rina doing?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I… I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

She nods and wraps me in a brief hug. “Whatever it is, Nik, you can talk to me.” She eases back and gestures lightly toward Gabriel and Dillon. “All of us, actually.”

Dillon nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. We’re always a phone call away.”

I cast my gaze to the floor. “I know.”

Gabriel adjusts his bag on his shoulder. “Can we do anything for you?”

“Actually… yes,” I clear my throat, forcing a glance in Lily’s direction. “Are you able to take Eleanor home?”

She nods, then tips her chin toward the door. “Do you want to tell her, or…?”

I shake my head. “No. I just… I need to get out of here.”

Lily offers a sad smile. “It’s no problem, Nik.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing my bag and heading straight for my car.

I don’t know if it’s wise to be alone with Eleanor again. No matter how I feel, I can’t pursue her—not while she’s so broken, and I’m still her coach. What happened last night shouldn’t have happened, and it can’t happen again.

But I know myself. The more time I spend around her, the more I want her.

It feels like God placed her right in front of me on a silver platter, beautiful, untouchable, and completely out of reach.

When I get home, Louie greets me like a whirlwind, leaping on my legs. I bend down, giving him whatever scraps I have left and ruffling his ears. “Hey, buddy. I’m sorry I wasn’t home last night.”

I’m silently grateful for the automatic food and water bowls, along with the doggy door. Without it, I’d feel even worse.