The lights came up and while everyone else filed toward the exit, I raced down the small aisle with the flowers and jumped onto the stage. I had to paw at the heavy material for a moment but I found the split and stepped through it.
It was dim, but backstage lights guided me to a small anteroom where the dancers were laughing with post-show nerves and being congratulated by their director.
“Where’s Darlene?” I demanded.
They all stopped and exchanged glances. Her asshole partner had the good graces to look chagrined but said nothing.
“Probably in the dressing room,” the lead dancer said in a bitchy tone I didn’t like. “She kind of…does her own thing.”
I remembered how Darlene had told me they didn’t welcome her with open arms, but made her feel like an outcast.
Even though she’s the best of them. Because she’s the best of them.
I snorted in disgust and turned back the way I’d come. I found the tiny dressing room. Empty. A short corridor led behind the stage. I heard the muffled crying first, and followed it to her, picking my way carefully through the dimness.
Darlene sat on the floor, her back against one of the movable backdrops that had been used in show. Her right foot was propped up on a coil of rope and even in the dark, I could see the swelling and bruising around the last two toes.
“Darlene.”
She lifted her tear-stained face, taking in me and my suit, and the flowers in my hand. And in one glance, I felt how she appreciated all of it more than she had words for. More than I deserved. Because her every emotion lived in her body, in her eyes, and beautiful face that couldn’t keep anything a secret.
She smiled through her tears, her voice whispery and tremulous. “You came.”
I knelt beside her, examined her foot to conceal the sudden rush of emotions that swept through me. I had too many and didn’t have the first clue what to do with them all.
I’ve never felt this way about a woman before…
And she was hurt. That clumsy asshole hurt her. I channeled my feelings into anger at him and felt more in control.
I set the flowers down, and carefully pulled her foot onto my lap. Her last two toes were swollen, and the bruising was spreading down the outside edge of her foot and across the top in purple splotches. “This isn’t my specialty, but it looks broken.”
“I think so. It’s hurts. A lot.” She sniffed and shook her head. “So much for my dance comeback.”
“For now,” I said fiercely. “You’ll heal and get out there again. You have to. You were the best damn part of that show.”
Darlene smiled, or tried to, for me. But it crumpled under the weight of her tears.
“I try so hard…and it all just slips out of my grasp. My best friend…now this job…” She tilted her head up to look up at me, her blue eyes brimming and her cheeks stained with the trails of dark makeup. “I can’t hold on to anything…”
I swallowed hard, Henrietta’s words filtering into my thoughts. I put my arms around her.
“Not this time.” I said, gruffly. “Hold on to me.”
She raised her eyes to mine, uncertain. “Sawyer…”
“And I’ll hold on to you, okay?” I said. “Just as tightly.”
A little sob escaped her and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I held her for a long, selfish moment, until her body in my arms tensed with pain, pushing a little whimper from her. I set the flowers in her lap, and lifted her off the ground carefully, holding her around the back and under her knees.
“The daisies are beautiful,” she said, with a sniff. “They’re so bright and cheerful.”
I nodded. In the dark, and in pain, Darlene was still giving, still generous and vibrant. I held her closer, and carried her through the theatre, her head tucked under my chin and her hand on my chest. We passed through the green room, and the troupe stopped their small celebrations.
“You broke her damn foot,” I snapped at her partner.
“It was an accident,” Darlene said, clinging to me tighter.
“Accident or not, he should have known better. Been better to her,” I said, still pinning the guy with a hard stare, then sweeping it over the room. “You all should have. You should have taken care of her.”