Read finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) Online

Authors: Imy Santiago

Tags: #The Safelight Series, #Volume 2

finding Reese.: a SAFELIGHT novel vol.2 (SAFELIGHT Series) (25 page)

There I stand, feeling a mixture of self-doubt and exhilaration, just like when I went snowboarding for the first time. Ever since Stryder Martynus and Jackson Reese walked into my life, I’ve experimented with new things . . . things I would never have done on my own.

Jackson takes hold of my hand and leads me to a backroom filled with dancewear and equipment; from ankle bands to footwear. He picks up a pair of heeled shoes . . . and suddenly, I’m no longer feeling so confident. I don’t mind wearing stilettos to go out, but dancing in them is a whole different thing. I pick up a cream-colored pair and sigh.

“I
T’S GOING TO HURT
, CAT
. Not going to lie. You will have blisters, and you’ll learn to love and hate the very shoes you’re holding. What’s your size?” he asks, smiling.

I lift one shoe and look inside the heel. It’s a size nine. “I think these will do.”

Jackson takes them from me, and shakes his head. “Nope. You’ll need a half-size larger. Reason being, you don’t want the back to rub against your heel. Not to mention, you want to have enough leeway for tape. Trust me on this.” I smile, and giggle as he flips lids off shoeboxes looking for the perfect pair. As he goes deeper into the room, my phone chirps with an incoming text message.




I giggle and look around, making sure no one including Jackson notices our sexting.


“Found them!” Jackson calls from the back of the room, and I jump.

“Okay,” I call shakily, and then my phone chirps again. I’m eager to read Stryder’s response, and when I do my cheeks grow warm.


My hand rises to cover my mouth, and I close my eyes imagining just that. A small moan escapes my throat, and when I open my eyes Jackson is standing in front of me with a shoebox in his hands and a knowing smile on his lips.

“Do you need me to call the Fire Department?” he asks with a click of his tongue. My eyes widen in horror; if a few moments ago my cheeks felt warm, now they are on fire. I’m mortified, and shove my phone into my pocketbook avoiding eye contact. “What? It’s perfectly normal to
sext
with your boyfriend, Cat,” he chuckles.

I look at him and laugh, bringing both of my hands to my hot cheeks. “Damn . . . Was it that obvious?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He nods. “Come on, you dirty girl. Let’s dance.”

Jackson grabs my hand and leads me toward the office, where he opens a locker and shoves my purse inside. After placing the dance tape Jackson gave me over the tops of my toes and heels, I take a few steps, trying to get a feel for the shoes. These feel different from normal heels and with the tape in the mix, walking feels downright awkward. Jackson’s laughter stops me dead in my tracks, and resting my hands on my hips, I scowl.

“What.”

Jackson tries and fails to stifle his laughs. I give him the blankest of stares, and tap my fingers impatiently against my pelvis.

“Nothing . . . You’re walking like a newborn horse, that’s all,” Jackson mumbles, then laughs harder, prompting tears to spill from his eyes. He’s right. I
am
walking like a foal taking its first steps. This shit feels weird. Huffing loudly, I walk as best as I can towards the door. Jackson grabs my hand and leads me out with a whispered, “Come on, pony, attagirl,” which earns him a nice smack on the ribs.

He’s laughing now at my walking . . . wait till he sees me dancing. I’m preparing myself mentally for the mockery that will ensue when they realize I’m no good at it. My footsteps click loudly against the hardwood floor. The class that was in progress has ended, and the studio is vacant. Kathryn smiles when she sees me and, with a quizzical look on her face, she observes my walking. Unlike Jackson, she doesn’t laugh, and when I stand in front of the mirrors and cross my arms against my chest, she walks toward me in strides.

Sweet Lord! Her grace is infallible, and nothing short of a model’s runaway walk. Kathryn stops in front of me, and rests her hands on my shoulders.

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say, Catalina.”

I nod.

“Anyone can dance. It’s all in your head. Jackson told me you didn’t know a lick of snowboarding and you got the hang of it pretty quick. This is no different, yeah?” Again I nod, but stay quiet because she’s in her zone.

“Good. Dancing is meant to be fun, and it’s an honest way to express oneself. Think of it as art; your body and feet are the paintbrush, the dance floor is your canvas, and on it we will make a masterpiece. I will push you, break you and put you back together again, but we will put all that we have on this floor. I will give you my very best and I expect the same in return. Half-assed dancing is unacceptable. Do I make myself clear?”

There’s something extraordinary about Kathryn; her sharp yet fantastic approach has ingrained itself in my mind. I feel empowered, brave, and eager to show her I don’t do half-assed. I look at her square in the eye, and reply, “Crystal.”

She squeezes my shoulders and lets me go, and from the corner of my eye I notice Jackson watching our exchange. I redirect my attention to Kathryn as she walks around me like a shark swimming around prey.

“Your posture isn’t bad, but it can be improved. Raise your hands as if you were dancing with Jupiter, please.” I comply, and jump when I feel her palm pressing against my spine. “Good . . . now breathe through your diaphragm.”

I breathe in and out and my arms quickly grow tired. When they fall down, though, I quickly raise them and shuffle my feet to regain my balance. When I do this, Kathryn mumbles, “Very good.”

“She’s going to be great,” Jackson shouts from across the room.

With measured steps, he approaches us and when he’s standing before me, I admire our reflections in the mirrors. Despite his injuries, Jackson stands tall with a posture I’ve only seen once before on the day I agreed to go snowboarding for the first time. Smiling, Jackson extends his arms and takes my hand, directing my other hand on his shoulder. Once locked in each other’s hold, he inches us closer to the mirror.

“Frame and posture, meet Catalina,” Kathryn says. “Catalina, meet posture and frame.” I giggle at her methodology. “Frame and posture is everything; it can make or break a dance. You will learn how to keep your frame and posture while in hold; whether it’s a Viennese Waltz or an Argentine Tango. Believe it or not, this will be the hardest part of dancing. Your feet will follow along, Catalina,” she says, as if reading my thoughts.

We stand in front of the mirror working on my frame, and every time my body slumps, Kathryn is quick to swat it back into position. Two hours later and completely drenched in sweat, Kathryn finally gives me a break to catch my breath. My toes and feet are killing me. Jackson hands me a bottle of water, and walks towards Kathryn with a smile.

“Be gentle, Kathryn,” he says, as he opens his hold for her. Gregg presses a button on the sound system and Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You” starts to play. They dance a slow waltz, my jaw drops as I watch Jackson dance for the first time. His steps are slow and measured, and judging by his taut facial expressions, I can tell he is pushing past pain to get through the dance. It’s so mesmerizing to watch them cover the expanse of the wooden dance floor, and more than once I find myself sighing. I’ve seen Stryder dance with Olivia, and Kathryn with Gregg, but there’s something incredibly inspiring about watching Kathryn and Jackson dance, capturing the somberness of the song. It’s as if I’m watching a story unfold before my eyes.

Gregg walks over and sits beside mine.

“It’s something to behold, isn’t it?” he asks with a smile, and I nod.

“Definitely . . . If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he does this every day instead of snowboarding! When they told me they were dancers I had a good laugh, but having seen Stryder and now Jax I feel like an ass. These boys are really talented.”

Gregg chuckles and replies smugly, “You’ll be showing them up in no time. You have what it takes to be a great dancer, Catalina. My wife is right. It’s all in your head. Believe in your capabilities.” He shifts in his seat, and winks wickedly. “Dancing has other benefits too, and Jupiter is the best of the best, or so I’ve heard.”

My face feels like it’s on fire. “Indeed,” I mumble, my finger suddenly interested in rearranging my bangs. “I just want him to be able to do what he loves with me. For too long I’ve sat down to watch others dance. It’s time for me to start doing . . . I want to surprise him when he gets back.”

“And you will, Catalina. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when you do.”

As the Reese siblings dance, we sit in silence, my eyes following their footsteps and trying to memorize their placement. When the song ends, I give them a standing ovation. They take a graceful bow, and then I race towards Jackson with my arms open wide.

Engulfing him in a tight hug, I cry, “Oh my goodness, Jax. That was stunning!”

Jackson wipes his sweaty brow with a hand towel and mutters under his breath, “Glad you thought so. Dad would lose his shit if he saw how crappy that truly was. I need to sit down . . . everything hurts.” I pout, but follow him towards the chairs and sit beside him.

“Are you blind, Jackson? I know nothing of dancing, but I know what I saw and you were wonderful. You should be proud of yourself!”

Kathryn kneels in front of him resting both of her palms against his knees. “Catalina is right, Jaxy. I know what you’re saying about form and execution, but you’re not back one hundred percent. Not to mention you haven’t danced properly in a long time. With practice and rest, you’ll be back in shape in no time.”

“I know, I know. I just feel like an old man,” Jackson mutters.

“Just pace yourself. You still have the goods,” Kathryn asserts, and then rises to hug her brother fiercely. “I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

I clench my hand into a fist and rub it against my chest, moved by this affectionate exchange between them. I don’t know what it’s like to have a sibling. The closest to that is my friendship with Faith and Jackson.

If I ever have kids, I’ll make sure to have more than one so they don’t miss out on the experience. Wait. What? I feel a light fluttering in my stomach, and in my head I hear my voice repeating my thoughts. Kids . . . I quickly revisit the conversation I had with Stryder several weeks ago, and how shocked he was when I told him getting pregnant again would be near to impossible. And now I find myself considering it. Another voice plays inside my head.
Don’t be afraid.
My whole body shudders as I recognize the voice.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asks.

I turn in my seat to face him. “Yeah . . . Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, you just shuddered and sighed really loud.” Jackson points at my arms, “Look, you have goose bumps.”

I look at them and cover myself instinctively, closing my eyes with a sigh. “Just a cold chill, that’s all.” I rise to face Kathryn. “When will we dance again?”

Kathryn giggles and wraps her arm around my shoulder guiding me towards her office. I’m not going to lie. It feels awkward that someone I just met is being so affectionate, and more than once I have to remind myself this is Jackson’s sister we’re talking about. They are like two drops of water, both physically and emotionally.

“What are you thinking about? Am I coming onto you too fast?” Kathryn says coquettishly.

“Um, no,” I laugh. “I was thinking how identical you and Jackson are.”

Kathryn giggles, and I join along. “Yep, and he calls you family, so I guess that makes you my family too, huh? Speaking of sisters, I know my sister hasn’t been nice to you. I’m sorry about that.” I nod. “It’s okay, Catalina. We love her, but we also know she’s a see you next Tuesday.”

Other books

Salamina by Javier Negrete
Hidden Pleasures by Brenda Jackson
Galore by Michael Crummey
Gentlemen Prefer Mischief by Emily Greenwood
Curtain for a Jester by Frances Lockridge
Every Living Thing by Cynthia Rylant