Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“You’re gonna do great, Emerson,” Sally told me as I stood in the wings of the stage, shaking my limbs and hoping that I’d spent enough time stretching.

My elbow was almost completely healed, but I could strain it again if I weren’t careful. I’d really pushed myself this past month to make sure I was in good shape to perform in the fall spectacular.

Was it going to be enough? I really wasn’t sure.

Ava had pulled out of the show a while ago, and she still wasn’t answering any of my calls or attempts to get in touch with her. She’d shut everyone out, and I was worried about the kind of impact that witnessing Sophie’s death had had on her. I knew I should have reached out, done my best to comfort her, but it’s hard to tell someone else that everything will be okay when you’re struggling to see the light ahead yourself.

Maybe now that I was in a better place, I could see her, and help her through her pain too.

If she would let me.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I could hear the music begin to play, and Sally gave me a nudge in the ribs before nodding toward the stage. “Don’t think, just do,” she said quietly.

I licked my dry lips, and one step after another, I walked silently into the middle of the stage. My ballet shoes felt a little odd on my feet. It had been a long time since I’d used so much ballet in my routines. Usually, I focused on mainly lyrical or contemporary pieces, but this time, I knew it was go big or go home.

The music played, and just like my body knew the movements off by heart, it started to dance. The music was a beautiful but intense piece with a hard baseline, and soft almost whisper like lyrics over the top. The contrast between the two reminded me of the transformation that I’d made over the past, nearly two months.

A twirl, a leap, my body came alive as I felt the music right down in my soul, the beat in time with my heart, pounding hard and growing faster. I hit the ground, bowing my body like I was in pain, portraying the painful words of the song with perfection.

Adrenaline filled me, spurring me on.

I didn’t care if the scouts out there liked my dance or not, maybe they thought my moves were sloppy and unpolished, or that I didn’t fill my dance with enough passion. There would always be someone out there waiting to criticize me, pick me apart and tell me I couldn’t do it.

But I didn’t care.

I would dance forever, whether it was something I could make into a profession or not wasn’t the point. When dance was inside you, there wasn’t anything else that was going to stop you from dancing, whether you were making money dancing in shows on Broadway, or whether you were doing it in your living room at home.

I knew that now.

I should have realized a long time ago that whether my father was going to approve or not, should not be the deciding factor on whether I should.

With one final pirouette my body spun and spun, feeling like it was never going to stop, like at any moment I could tumble to the floor or spin off into the air. But I didn’t because I was in total control…

Of this dance.

Of my future.

Of my life.

I threw myself onto the floor with the last beat of the song. My chest heaved, my lungs gasping for air and my muscles already feeling like they were spent and in need of ice. My hair hung down over my face, and I didn’t want to look up.

Then came the applause.

It roared like a hundred thousand football fans on Super Bowl weekend. I couldn’t even stop the smile that crept up my face and the tears that streamed down my cheeks at the same time.

I finally risked a peek, just lifting my head enough to see the crowd beneath my brows. They were on their feet, wide smiles, astonished faces, staring at me in awe. People called out, they praised, and I felt amazing.

I looked up, searching for the one face that I wanted to see, the man who had pushed me to the next level and made me believe in myself and who I was before what anybody wanted me to be. As the stage lights dimmed, I caught a glimpse of him at the back of the theater, but the look on his face wasn’t one I was expecting.

His frown was deep and rigid, and his arms were folded across his chest as he glared at the back of another man who was walking away.

My father.

I ran to the edge of the stage.

Sally grabbed my arm. “Emmy, you did amaz—”

I pulled away and ducked out the side, running down the hallways to the practice rooms until I got to the back of the huge auditorium, stepping out just in time to see my father’s retreating frame walking out the exit.

I looked over to Angelo, his eyes meeting mine with a fiery blaze. It softened for a moment, and he shook his head before nodding to the door.

My body sunk, but instead of going to the man who I knew would tell me how amazing I danced and would lift me up high into the clouds, I chased after the one who had spent most of my life pushing me away from what I loved.

I broke out into the night air, it was warm, but the slice of a frigid breeze hit my skin. “Why did you come,” I demanded loudly, causing my father’s body to freeze on the spot as he headed down the path toward the parking lot.

My heart hammered against my chest.

I hadn’t seen my father since Sophie’s funeral, the day my life turned around, and I took that one step closer to being a stronger, more confident woman. We’d spoken on the phone, only once since I told him I no longer wanted to follow his dreams of being a lawyer for his company, and that I wanted to follow my love of dance. We’d been civil on the phone once since then, but the conversation had only lasted a few minutes, and I knew neither of us was going to bring up the elephant that was sitting in the room.

After far too many nervous breaths in anticipation, he finally turned around and took a couple of shaky steps toward me.

“I came because he asked me to,” he said as he stepped into the light that illuminated the outside of the auditorium.

I frowned. “Who?”

He shook his head and looked at the ground. “Angelo.”

I really wasn’t that surprised at the admission. I’d told Angelo on more than one occasion that I wished my dad would come to see me dance. Just once, then maybe he would be able to see that this was what I was made for, not to sit in an office or a courtroom every day, and fill out paperwork or argue with others.

“What did you think?” I asked, my voice cracking as I waited, holding my breath, expecting the worst but hoping and praying for an answer that would pick up our shattered relationship and start to mend it.

He cleared his throat, finally looking me in the eye. “You looked beautiful…” My stomach twisted, my throat burned with tears. “Everyone loved you.”

“I’m good, Dad,” I told him, feeling more empowered. Bolder. “At least I could be. It will take time, and I’ll have to get accepted into school, but this is what I love, it’s what I want.” The excitement in my voice was unmistakable.

He nodded. “I just don’t want you to settle.”

And there it was.

Yes, Emerson, your dancing is amazing, but it’s not worth your time. You’re not living up to your potential. Dancing isn’t going to make you lots of money. Dancing isn’t going to give you a reliable future.

Just when I thought maybe I was getting through to him. When I thought maybe he could see through dollar signs and business deals, and his own stupid fucking ideas on what life should be.

My father walked away from his family so he could be his own person, and not live within their shadow which was hanging over him. He had a dream, aspirations, and things that he desperately wanted to achieve. I admired him for that, for being able to say that enough is enough and that he wanted to follow a different path, even though it meant walking away from the people who loved him.

“Have you forgotten what it’s like to have a dream and fight for it?” I asked, a slight curiosity in my voice. “Do you not remember what it was like to give up everything, including your family, because you knew they would only drag you down?” My voice rose higher and higher, my anger beginning to spike.

His fists clenched by his side. “I love you,” he replied, taking me by surprise. “We may not agree on everything, or anything for that matter.” He swiped his fingers through his hair. “But I love you. I may not be able to stand up and holler from the rooftops that I approve of what you’re doing…” his eyes quickly flicked to the side, and I knew that Angelo was standing there silently, watching on, “… or who you are with… but I love you.” He rubbed at his face, which was unusually covered with bristles, a strange look for a man who I knew would usually shave every single day, never willing to look anything but pristine. “And you’re right, I lost everything when I decided to follow my heart and my goals. I was cut from my family, disgraced, and wiped out,” he told me. I could hear the pain in his voice. “And I never want you to feel that way.”

“Then why can’t you support and love me for who I am, instead of who you want me to be?” I asked, my voice cracking as I pleaded with him to just accept me, love me, and be there for me when I needed him.

“I’ve just lost one daughter, and now the other is realizing that she doesn’t need me anymore. That she’s paving her own way after I’d spent so many years thinking that she needed me to do that for her.” Tears pricked at my eyes and I wrapped my arms around my body to try and hold myself together. “These are things I can’t just comprehend overnight. I need time to come to terms with the fact that one is gone, and the other just doesn’t need me.”

He needed time.

He wasn’t walking away.

He wasn’t disowning me.

While it wasn’t the reaction that I wished he’d had, I was thankful that maybe someday he would be able to come and see me dance, and tell me how proud he was of my achievements. Maybe one day he would stand in the crowd and say, “Hey, that’s my daughter, and she’s fucking amazing.”

It wouldn’t be today.

But he wasn’t giving up on me.

I ran forward, and he opened his arms for me. I laid my head against his chest, and he pulled me in tightly, like a cocoon.

“Se la feriti, ti ucciderò.” My father’s body rumbled deeply with his words. I knew they weren’t meant for me, though.

“Noted,” Angelo replied, walking up behind me.

My father brushed his lips against my hair and squeezed me a little tighter before he pulled back. “Go back inside and see all those people who watched you in admiration and awe tonight,” he told me, cupping my face with his hand. “You know, I think you and Sophie may have been more alike than I first realized… you both look beautiful standing in a spotlight.”

I couldn’t help but smile even as tears dripped down my cheeks.

A strong arm came around my waist from behind and I leaned back, feeling Angelo’s supportive embrace, as though he knew it was what I needed in that moment.

My father nodded and took that moment to walk away, offering me a genuine smile before he did.

We watched him go until the darkness swallowed him up.

“How do you feel?” Angelo asked, allowing me to slip from his arms and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh night air. Like this would be the last one I would take, and then tomorrow would be a new start, a new day, a new life—with one less thing on my shoulders weighing me down.

“I feel free,” I answered honestly. “Like from here on out, there’s nothing that could stop me.”