Wounded Dance Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Sneak Peek

  About Deanna Roy

  Wounded Dance

  Book 2 of the Lovers Dance Series

  By Deanna Roy

  www.deannaroy.com

  Join her mailing list for new releases and freebies at

  Deanna’s List

  Summary:

  The father to Livia’s secret baby returns to find their child, threatening the quiet happy life she’s built with Blitz, the former star of a reality TV dance show.

  Copyright © 2017 by Deanna Roy. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Casey Shay Press

  PO Box 160116

  Austin, TX 78716

  www.caseyshaypress.com

  E-ISBN: 9781938150647

  Also available in paperback: ISBN: 9781938150630

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017901094

  eBook version 1.5

  ~*´♥`*~

  To superfans

  Christine A and Jennifer P

  for being early readers

  for the crazy plot twist

  and providing the names

  Denham and Jenica

  Chapter 1

  These are the best days.

  Gabriella leans sideways in her wheelchair, arm curved over her shiny black hair. Even at four years old, her ballet movements show expression and deep emotion.

  She is her mother’s daughter, even if she doesn’t realize it. She may never know that I gave birth to her and spent years searching for her. I’m okay with that. Teaching her ballet is a joy.

  Her pale pink tutu is brilliant with sparkles. It matches mine, minus the glitter. When I glance in the wall of mirrors behind the barre, my long black hair blending into hers, I don’t see how anyone could miss that we are related.

  But so far, she’s a perfect secret.

  “Hold,” I tell her, and shift her fingers into a prettier position.

  “Good call,” Blitz says. He’s standing nearby, his hand cupping his scruffy chin, watching Gabriella’s movements with an eye toward improvement. He wants to maximize the ways she can dance from the wheelchair.

  You’d never guess this patient man, who seems to have all the time in the world, is actually Blitz Craven, currently the most famous dancer in the world due to his reality TV show Dance Blitz.

  I turn toward the mirrored window to the hall outside. I can’t see through it, but I know Gabriella’s adopted mother Gwen is watching. She’s been a good mother to my baby, strong and caring even after the car accident that killed her husband and damaged our little girl’s spine.

  After I told Blitz about my secret daughter, he suggested we give her private lessons. I changed my life to be near her, and now he has too.

  Gwen was delighted at the idea of extra dance help, especially from someone as famous as Blitz. So now I get to see Gabriella twice each week. Once in her class for all the wheelchair ballerinas. And again during the lesson with me and Blitz.

  Gwen doesn’t know who I am. No one does. My parents, whom I haven’t seen in the month since I left home to be with Blitz, don’t know I found her.

  For a year, my discovery of her was my own solitary secret. Then I told Blitz just a few weeks ago, at the Christmas dance recital.

  Now the new year has begun and it’s off to an amazing start. Blitz and I are staying at a hotel close by, still hoping my parents will come around and be willing to speak to me again.

  Blitz and I dance together at Dreamcatcher every day while the producers of his show Dance Blitz manage the publicity following my surprise arrival and Blitz’s unscripted announcement on live television that I was his new dance partner. His manager Hannah still hasn’t calmed down about it.

  Right now things are easy and good. I miss my little brother Andy, and since he is homeschooled like I used to be, I can’t easily see him. But I’ve been up to my church and managed to tell him hello and give him a hug before my parents took him away.

  “Let’s try something with a quicker tempo,” Blitz says, heading toward the audio equipment in the corner. “Gabriella, are you getting tired?”

  The little girl whizzes across the room. “No way! This is the best!”

  She whirls in circles as Blitz starts a new song. We let her lead a little conga line with me and Blitz behind her, then Blitz gives her a ribbon stick to practice with.

  I take a step back to watch them. Blitz is wearing sleek black jazz pants and a tight gray dance shirt. He takes my breath away. His hair has grown out a little and falls in a black wave across his head. Despite living with him for over a month, I still don’t know how he manages to keep his sexy stubble at precisely the same length all the time.

  He catches me watching him and winks, showing Gabriella how to make a rapid cascade with the ribbon. Seeing them together never fails to fill my heart with unabashed joy.

  The lights flicker, signaling that the hour is ending. Another group will use this room next.

  Blitz takes Gabriella’s ribbon stick and rolls it up. She speeds across the room to make a circle around me. Her chair is good, light and nimble. There is a lot she will be able to do.

  Gwen opens the door and peeks inside. “All done?” she asks.

  She looks happier now that she’s made it through the holidays. It’s not the first one without her husband, but I imagine it’s not much better yet. It will probably never be easy for her. She approaches Gabriella with a hot-pink coat.

  “Thank you guys so much for doing this,” she says. “Gabby, you looked so good. Was it fun?”

  Gabriella sticks her arms in the coat. “It was!” She tries to zip it up herself, but like many four-year-olds, she’s not agile enough. Gwen leans over to fasten it for her, one of a million small acts of mothering I will never get to do.

  “I will see you on Tuesday for the big class,” I tell her, leaning down for a hug. She smells like strawberry shampoo. It’s hard to let her go, and especially to hide how I’m feeling, but I straighten and keep my expression friendly and light.

  “Bye, Livia!” Gabriella calls. “Bye, Benjamin!”

  Gwen waves to us and follows Gabriella out of the room.

  I bite my lip to stay in control and turn to Blitz. “I should probably call you Benjamin too,” I say. “It’s the rest of the world who knows you as Blitz.”

  He walks up and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. “You can call me anything you want.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I say with a laugh. “I can come up with all manner of depraved nicknames.”

  He pulls back and presses a light kiss on my mouth. Then he says, “I like it when
you’re depraved.”

  He spins me out in a whirl, his hand and body communicating where I should go. For a few dizzying seconds, we dance together in dramatic turns, the world a blur. Then he pulls me against him, our bodies flush against each other.

  A lot of our conversations end like this.

  “Lunch?” I ask him, breathing hard.

  He laughs. “Absolutely.”

  I head to the corner where I’ve stashed my coat and a bag with normal shoes.

  He heads for the sound equipment. “Make sure you save room for dinner, though. Mom will expect you to eat!”

  My stomach flutters. Tonight I’ll be meeting Blitz’s parents for the first time. We would have done it before now, but they spent Christmas and early January in Colorado, so they’ve just now gotten back and settled down enough to have visitors.

  Blitz shuts down the music as Aurora arrives to set up for her toddler class. She has a little girl with her, Cassandra, her boyfriend’s daughter.

  “You have a helper!” I say to Aurora.

  “No school today,” Aurora says. “I’m watching her while Samuel works.” Her eyes flit over to Blitz. Even though he volunteered here for a few weeks around Thanksgiving last year, everyone is still a little starstruck when they see him.

  It’s been worse since the live finale of his show, which went completely viral and has been the highest-rated reality show episode of all time. My face still flushes when I think of how bold I was to march on that stage and demand he dance with me instead of the contestants.

  Sometimes my friend Mindy sends me memes of a screenshot from the broadcast. It shows me crossing in front of the three finalists in their sparkly dresses. I look grim and determined. The captions are always changing.

  What a hostile takeover looks like.

  When you ain’t gonna let no ho dance with your man.

  I try to ignore all the fuss. Blitz and I want to live as quietly as we can for as long as possible, at least until we can figure out what’s next. I know the finalists from his show feel robbed and angry. One of them, Mariah, has sued the producers, since she was supposedly slated to be the actual winner. She lost out on a lot of publicity and fame because of me.

  It’s a mess.

  Blitz takes my hand as I stand up from putting on my shoes. We head down the hall of Dreamcatcher Dance Academy, which is filling with moms and little girls for their classes. There’s more kids here today with school out, siblings of the tiny ones who usually attend alone. The mothers seem more harried than usual.

  We cross the foyer, waving at Suze, who sits at the front desk. A few moms stop talking to point at Blitz. He smiles and is friendly, but doesn’t pause, his hand on my back as we head for the doors.

  I’m on the steps when my brain stutters. My attention fixes on a man on the sidewalk, looking up, his cheeks ruddy from the cold as if he’s stood there a while.

  My body gets some message from my brain before I can comprehend exactly what is happening, why I’m feeling a threat. My feet are rooted to the concrete, my chest buzzing with alarm.

  Blitz stops with me. “You okay, Livia?” he asks.

  His words are what bring the moment into focus. This man in front of me wears a black leather jacket, his layered brown hair flying in the wind.

  It’s him.

  God.

  It’s him.

  Denham Young.

  Kicked out of my life when I was fifteen. Gone for good. Lost to me.

  My great love. My shame.

  Gabriella’s father.

  He’s found me.

  Chapter 2

  Denham takes a step toward me, then sees Blitz and stops. “Livia, it’s really you.”

  I want to shrink into the ground, let it swallow me up. I can’t let Blitz meet him. I can’t let Denham say who he is. If Blitz knew, that would be it. He would be horrified. He wouldn’t want me anymore. And the press. I’m famous now. If they knew. God. Everyone would know. It would be huge news.

  And Denham…he doesn’t know about Gabriella. At least I don’t think so. My father kicked him out before I found out I was pregnant. We didn’t see him again.

  I look wildly across the parking lot. Thankfully Gwen has already gone.

  Why is this happening?

  “Livia?” Denham says.

  “Go away!” I cry out. “Stay back!”

  With that, Blitz pulls me close to him. “Who is this guy, Livia? You want me to take his ass out?”

  “No!” I say. “Just get me out of here.”

  “Livia, please, there is something I have to tell you!” Denham says. He holds his arms out in a pleading gesture. His face, God, that face, one I knew as well as my own, is contorted in anguish.

  “No!” I say. “I don’t want to hear it! Please, stay away!”

  Blitz hurries us toward his car on the far side of the building.

  But Denham follows. “I couldn’t find you, Livia, or I would have told you sooner. I looked everywhere! I didn’t know where you had gone until I saw you on television!”

  Blitz stops beside his car and whirls around, pushing me behind him. “Look, pal, get out of here before your face is part of the pavement. Livia doesn’t want to talk to you. Just because she was on the show doesn’t mean you have the right to stalk her.”

  Blitz jerks his keys from his pocket and unlocks the door. “Get in, Livia,” he says.

  But my feet are stuck. Denham looks so stricken. He’s older now, and so am I. We’re grown. He isn’t that fresh-faced sixteen-year-old. But his eyes are the same. I’d been lost in them once. Lost enough to forget to be careful. I didn’t guard myself.

  But he lied. He led me to my shame.

  This gets me.

  I manage to turn away and jerk open the door to Blitz’s red Ferrari. The wind tears at my coat and my hair swirls around my face.

  “Livia,” Denham says. “Just let me say one thing.”

  I pause by the door and look back. Blitz is still next to him, looking threatening and angry. I’ve seen Blitz take down a stranger with a single punch. I have no doubt he’d do it again.

  “Please,” I say. “Please don’t come into my life now. I can’t bear it.”

  Denham’s face is contorted with emotion. “I won’t. I see you’ve got a good thing going.” He glances at Blitz. “I wouldn’t mess that up. I promise. I would never hurt you. I loved you more than anyone else in the world. More than I will ever love anybody again.”

  This makes Blitz relax his stance. He looks back at me. “Livia, who is this?” he asks.

  My panic rises. “I’ll tell you in the car,” I say. But I don’t get in. I can’t leave Denham and Blitz alone, even for a second. In fact, I need Blitz away from this situation, as fast as possible, before Denham can say anything more.

  “Can we go now?” I ask him, my voice quavering.

  If Denham says who he is, this is over. My life is over. I will tell Blitz that Denham is Gabriella’s father. I don’t care about that.

  It’s the rest. Who he is to me. To my family.

  But Blitz waits, looking back and forth between me and Denham.

  I close my eyes to the wind, trying to stay calm, not to scream and run. This is it. This is where my past catches up to me.

  “I’m leaving,” I say to Denham one last time. “Blitz, please, let’s drive away.”

  This time, Blitz moves. He comes around to the driver’s side of the car and opens the door, his eyes still on Denham.

  But Denham is determined to say something. And so he does. And the words are something I never thought I’d hear.

  “Livia, I’m not your brother. I never was.”

  Chapter 3

  I clutch the top of Blitz’s car. The wind is fierce. Surely I didn’t hear that right.

  “What?” Blitz says. “You’re her brother?”

  Denham steps closer. “No, I said I’m not her brother. She thought I was. Hell, I thought I was. I lived with her family. But I’m not part of
it.”

  I can’t look at him. My world is spinning, black spots in my vision.

  He takes yet another step. He’s only a couple feet away now. My head is down because I can’t look anybody in the eye right now. His boots are scuffed and worn, a chain across the side. He still dresses with an attitude, now the same as then.

  “Livia?” Blitz’s voice is laced with concern. He comes back around the car. “You lived with this guy?”

  “Not here in San Antonio,” Denham says. “Back in Houston. I didn’t know she was here. I had no idea where she was until the show.”

  Blitz’s arms come around me. His voice is gentle. “Hey, what’s getting you? Did this guy do something to you when you lived with him?”

  I shake my head no, then yes, then no again. Blitz’s arms are like a tether to the world. I finally lift my face.

  Denham’s arms are out again, like he’s begging. His eyes are soft. “I’m not your brother,” he says again. “After your father kicked me out, I went into foster care. I ran away, but they had already DNA-swabbed me to hand me over to some other guy they found. I never went back, so I didn’t see the results. I saw the papers a year ago, when Aunt Didi died. Your dad isn’t my dad. But I couldn’t find you to tell you. That we were okay. That it wasn’t anything horrible after all.”

  Now I’m feeling faint. He has to stop. “Please take me home,” I say to Blitz. “Now.”

  Blitz nods and steps between me and Denham, blocking his view of me as I sit on the seat. I’ve heard all I need to know. I just need to think. And I need to get away before the last piece of the story falls into place for both of them.

  But this isn’t my scene. It’s Denham’s. And he is going to say what he wants.

  “I always loved you, Livia,” Denham goes on. “And I never regretted what happened between us. I wanted you to be able to stop regretting it too.”