My mother approved the changes I made, and the dance studio is ready for re-opening. She has been so preoccupied waiting on my father hand and foot that she didn't even question what genre of dance I would be teaching. Prior to my accident our dance studio primarily taught ballet, but it has been closed for years and there have been many changes in professional dancing. I want to bring that change and revamp the studio. I want to make it my own. 

We’re in the car on our way to the hospital, when my mother spots the flyers in the back seat of the car. “What are those?” she asks. 

“I want to hang up a few flyers around town.” I shrug. “I figured parents would see the ads I have running in the local paper, but if the little girls see it, they might ask their moms to sign them up for dance.”

“I guess that fancy education your father paid for is paying off after all.”

“Can't you just say ‘I'm proud of you’ or ‘Smart thinking’?” I grip the steering wheel firmly as I stop at a red light. “Do you always have to make a backhanded comment?” I glance over at her.

Her lips purse together and she pulls her gaze away from mine and focuses out the window. A few miles pass before she opens her mouth to speak again. “You haven't stopped by to see your father.”

“I haven't had time, Mother,” I lie. I want to stay far away from that place, and she should know why better than anyone.

“He's going to know that you haven't been visiting him.”

“I’ve been busy with the studio. Once that is up and running again, I will go visit him. I think Dad understands that.” I have my own reasons for not wanting to go into that place that holds painful memories. I lived there for an entire summer as doctors told me I would never dance again, as my mother was too unstable to have me home, as Ethan never came to visit.

* * *

After dropping my mother off, I make my way back to the center of town. I’m on a mission to get these flyers hung up. I stop by the school and greet some of the teachers who are still there from when I was in school and I ask if I could hang a flyer in their classroom. Everyone seems happy to help.

By late afternoon I’ve made my way through the entire town. With no flyers left, I decide to stop for lunch. There’s so much variety, but I finally settle for a pub. An ice-cold beer will definitely help with the exhaustion. The pub is dark, and the smell of stale peanuts and old cigarettes linger in the air. There are big wooden booths that line each side of the bar and a few high top tables scattered around. An oval bar is the center of the room. 

“Can I help you?” the bartender asks.

Hesitantly, I step further inside and my eyes squint due to the darkness. It’s empty, so I assume the lunch rush has died down. “Um, I’d like to order some lunch.”

“Do you want a table or are you taking it to go?”

“I can eat at the bar.” I walk up to pull a stool back.

She places a menu in front of me and walks over to grab me a glass of water. Her hair is platinum blonde and her dark eye shadow makes it impossible to recognize her. But as soon as she slouches to one side, I know exactly who she is.

“You’re Erica, right?” I say with a hint of excitement in my voice. “We were in school together.” She stops and looks at me like I have two heads. “I'm Leslie. Leslie Sutton.”

Erica sighs and cocks her head to the side. “I know exactly who you are. Now what do you want to eat?” 

Ouch. I don't remember her being that much of a bitch. I curse myself mentally for not befriending more people and being so caught up with Ethan’s ass. “Can I just have a cheeseburger and a Stella, please?” I close my menu and do my best to ignore her as she walks around the bar mumbling under her breath. I pull out my cell phone and check my messages. I smile at the new picture of my niece Lyra that her dad sent me. She’s not my blood relative, but I am her TiTi. After I reply, I check my mailbox. I have two new emails regarding potential new students for the studio. 

Dear Leslie,

I’m inquiring about the ad I saw in the Tribune News this morning. I have three girls who don't really care much for physical activity but they love to dance. I would love to come by the studio and chat more. Please email me back with your availability so we can set something up. Thank you in advance,

Margie

Dear Leslie,

I caught a glimpse of your flyer outside of Al's Bakeshop and I was wondering what kind of dance programs you offer. We're new to town and my daughter loved taking hip-hop/jazz at our previous community center. Let me know when I can swing by the studio so we can talk some more.

Best regards,

Jackie. 

I can’t help the excitement I’m feeling. Not only did someone see the ads in the paper but the flyers I posted are working, too. My fingers click on the third email but I don’t read it. My attention is pulled away due to a banging on the bar top. My head pops up immediately and on the other side of the bar, Erica stands with her back facing me. Two men surround her, and a sinking feeling takes over when one of them looks directly at me, and a sly grin grows on his face.

Michael.

I try to smile but I can’t, there is a look in his eyes that terrifies me. It’s like he’s almost pissed to see me here.

Erica hands him my beer and he walks it over to me. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” The stench of old cigarettes and liquor permeates from his pores.

“Hi, Michael.” I reach for my beer. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, but he still looks like the same boy who asked me on my first date so many years ago.

“I'm surprised you even remember my name.” He steps closer, invading my personal space. His voice is low and terrifying when he speaks again. “I'm surprised you know anybody, really, since when you did live in this town, you only focused on one thing. One person, really. Ethan.”

I lean back and hop off the stool. There’s something about the way he is looking at me that makes a chill run up my spine. “It’s good to see you too, Michael. Now if you’ll excuse me. . . .” My gaze pulls away from his as I notice the other guy heading toward us. It all brings back memories I’ve spent years pushing away. Never will I ever let a man invade my space again. Everything in me tells me to get the hell out of here.

Erica appears on the other side of the bar, holding a white plate with my food. My hunger has long vanished as my heart is racing and I want to run.

“For someone who won't be here long, it looks like you've been very busy.” Erica pulls a flyer from her back pocket and tosses it at me. “Will you make me chase you out of here like last time, Les?”

“Last time?” I can’t help but look at her as if she’s an idiot. I refuse to let them know the affect they are having on me. “I don’t know what delusional world you live in, but I left for school. Unlike you, I didn’t stay in this minuscule town and become a nobody. I got a degree, I got a job, I moved on with my life. No one chased me away.”

The other guy chuckles and it seems to fuel her rage. Crossing her arms over her chest, she squints at me. “Sure you did. I suppose you’re also over Ethan, which is why, out of all the restaurants in town, you came to his place.”

I close my eyes for a brief moment. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Reaching inside my purse, I pull out a twenty and toss it on the bar before I throw my purse over my shoulder. “It won't happen again,” I say, hoping my voice sounds as condescending as I mean it to be.

When I turn to leave, Michael and his friend block my path. “You’re not welcome here,” Michael hisses in my direction.

“Excuse me?” My shoulders tighten and he takes a step forward.

“The only person you cared about was Ethan, the only friend you had was Ethan. You’ve caused him enough damage that we don’t need you around him anymore.” He grabs my forearm. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Don't touch me!” I snap. 

Erica giggles. I glare at her. “Me and Ethan are together now. I keep him happy, if you know what I mean. Stay away from him. Go back to where you came from. No one wants you here.”

My fists clench at my sides. There’s a bottle of mace inside my purse but I know I won’t be quick enough to grab it. It’s of no use to me. Bile rises in my throat. “Oh, it looks like we’ve made the dance queen mad.” Erica laughs.

“Back the fuck off,” Ethan's voice bellows through the quiet pub. My knees wobble and I glance in his direction. He is in dark jeans with a black T-shirt and his strides are powerful and calculated. His gaze never meets mine.

Michael and his friend take a step back, and I find myself finally able to breathe again. “Come on, E, we were just having a little fun; some friendly hazing. You know we were just messing with her,” Michael says with a squeaky voice. I can see the fear in his eyes.

Like Jerry, Ethan strikes fear when he enters a room.

Ethan walks right between Michael and me. His shoulders are broad, shielding me from harm’s way. As always, he is my protector. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I don’t pay you to sit around here and fucking bullshit the day away with Erica. Your job is under the hood of the cars.” Ethan’s voice is threatening and authoritative. “Get to fucking work.” Michael and the other guy rush out of the pub. Ethan glances over at Erica. His jaw twitches. “What are you looking at? Don't you got shit to do? The new shipment of liquor came in. Go restock the back room.”

Erica mumbles something and storms out of the bar.

When we no longer hear her heels clicking on the wood floor, Ethan turns to face me. His features soften when our eyes meet. “I'm sorry about that,” he mutters. I stand there speechless for a few seconds staring at the man in front of me. He is everything I love laced with everything I despise.

Jerry.

He is identical to his father, and the resemblance makes me sick.

“I have to go.” I hold firmly to the strap of my purse and jog out of the pub. The warm air hits my skin and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I walk up Main Street completely dazed and confused. After walking for five minutes, I realize my rental car is parked in the opposite direction. Frantic, I turn and am greeted with the kindest smile I've ever seen.

Charlie.

He was running after me. He stops dead in his tracks and opens his arms wide for me. “Leslie,” he says, folding his arms around my back.

“Oh, Charlie! How are you, my friend?”

“So much better now that you're here.” I pull away from his arms and glance up at him. He's a full foot and a half taller than I am. His shaggy brown hair is curled at the ends, and there are a few shaving nicks on his face. He looks so much like Ethan but still has a boyish touch.

“You look good, Charlie, so grown up.” I can't hide the smile that grows on my lips. Out of everyone Jerry touched, Charlie was the only one who stayed pure.

“You're just being nice. I still look the same. A little taller, and I got hair in places I didn't know I could have.” His eyes are wide.

I stumble back and laugh. Of course Charlie would be inappropriate at the most appropriate time. “Charlie . . .”

“I know. I know. I know. I can't talk like that in public. Ethan yells at me all the time.”

My smile falters and I reach for his hand. “He yells at you?"

“No, not yells. Not like Dad. Never like Dad.” I sigh with relief. “He just makes sure that I take my bath, I take my medicine, and I stay out of trouble.”

I don't ask him anything else because a part of me doesn't want to know what Ethan does with his life now. The less I know, the better. “Well, it was really nice seeing you, Charlie.” I lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I'm so happy I bumped into you.”

“Me, too.”

I take a few steps away from Charlie, but he calls back for me. I turn my head and he says, “Michael's a punk. Don't be scared of him. He wouldn't touch a fruit fly. But if he messes with you, let me know and I'll take care of it.”

I simply nod and continue to walk down the street. 

* * *

My foot lifts off the gas and presses gently on the brake as I turn onto my street. The houses all come into view before I gasp. Ethan rests against the hood of his car, his gaze focused on his old house. My heart races as I approach him.

He straightens when I pull my car into the driveway. I inhale some courage and step out of the car. We don’t speak. His eyes scan my body before he holds up a white paper bag. “Hungry?”

“Why are you here?” I ask him.

“I figured since you left without touching your food you’d be starving.”

“Your employees lack customer service,” I snip, hating the encounter with his girlfriend.

“Can we talk?” Ethan cocks his head toward the backyard and I nod. As much as I try to hate him, deep down inside I never learned how. He follows behind as I lead the way. I walk past the deck and toward the field of tall grass that leads to the beautiful mountains. It was where we sat when we were kids. We spent countless hours after school back here, doing homework or making out until our lips were bruised.

We find our way under our tree and sit. Refusing to look at him, I bring my knees to my chest. Ethan opens the bag and hands me a turkey club sandwich.

“You still like these?” he says, holding up a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

“Yeah.” My voice is low. Being near him causes my brain to turn to mush.

“Is it weird being back?” he asks before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“You have no idea.” I open the bag of chips and shove a few in my sandwich. “My mother is still the same. Crazy as always.”

“How’s Los Angeles?”

I look up at him. There is so much to say to one another, so much I want to ask, but too much time has passed and he isn’t the same person he was before. “I moved to Chicago a few years ago,” I say before taking a bite.

“Oh.”

We are silent for a few seconds before I ask, “How’s life here?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs and I lift my eyebrow. “I’m not like him, Freckles,” he adds like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“That’s not what it looks like.” I chew my bite slowly before swallowing. I’m remembering the powerfully scary man who walked into the pub earlier today.

“I would never.” He shakes his head in defense. “You know how much I hate him.”

“So, Michael and Erica?” I can’t help but want to know more about them.

“They work for me. After Jerry . . . After you left, I had to pick up the slack.” His words hurt me. “Everyone counted on me once my mother was taken away by the state and Charlie had no one to look out for him, so I dove head first into the business.”

I give him a concerned look. “What happened at the pub today isn’t okay.”

“Michael thinks because we’re friends, he’s the hot guy in town. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless? Invading my personal space isn’t harmless. It’s all too familiar. And Erica?” My voice grows with annoyance.

He sighs. “She doesn’t care for you very much.”

“What did I ever do to her?” I ask before taking another bite.

“You didn’t do anything. It’s more that I refuse to let you go.”

Taken aback, I lick my lips repeating what he said. “You did let me go.”

“Not really.” He looks deep into my eyes. For a moment I’m lost in the green hue that holds specs of gold.

Shaking my head, I say, “From what I remember, I asked you to come. I begged you to come and you never showed.”

“Les . . . It wasn’t that simple.”

Swallowing the golf ball lodged in my throat, I nod. “I see.” A part of me wants to scream. I want to rehash the past and say the words I never had a chance to say.

“I don’t do what Jerry did.” He tries to change the subject.

“If you say so.”

“Les.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Ethan.” Having a normal conversation with him is impossible. The past is still the past and it’s something I will never get over. I crumble up the wrapper and stand. “I have to go. Thank you for lunch, and thank you for saving me from your friends.”

“What are you doing?” He rushes to his feet.

“I’m not going to sit here and pretend everything between us is fine. I’m tired of being the bigger person and swallowing back everything I feel. I needed you. I needed you to be there, and you weren’t. I needed you to be my anchor, and you left me. What happened to Jerry was because of me and never did we talk about it. I was shoved in a hospital room and the last image I have of you is you in that garage. You dove into the family business because everyone was looking at you. You were there for everyone but me.”

“Les. I fucked up, but let me explain. ” He reaches out to grab my hand but I take a step back.

“No. Don’t chase after me now. I don’t need your explanations eight years later. I learned to build myself back up, no thanks to you. I’m here to work and help my parents. When everything is back to normal, I’m out of here.”

And with that, I turn and make my way toward the house. I don’t glance back. I refuse to let him see me falter.

Not anymore.