Page 313 of Blackwood

“Santibañez,” I clarify. “He didn’t write. Didn’t check his watch. Didn’t even breathe for half of it.”

Lex straightens. “He watched you like you girls were on fire.”

Bella swallows. Her hand pauses on the strap of her heel.

“Phoenix girls before you?” Lex adds. “He shook his head mid-routine and started writing in block letters like he was filing a restraining order.”

I give her a small smile, low and steady. “You all had him frozen, sweetheart.”

She exhales like she’s been holding that breath since the moment she stepped onstage. “Yeah?” she asks, voice barely there.

Lex’s voice softens. “Yeah. You wrecked him. All three of you did.”

Her eyes flick up, darting between us, and for the first time tonight, she lets herself smile. Not for the crowd. Not for the judges. Just for us. “I’ve got one more, then we’re done for the day.”

Lex hands her the water bottle. “Then we eat. And breathe. Maybe even sit down.”

I fasten the last strap on her shoe and look up. “You’ve got this duet in the bag.”

“Top three, or nothing,” she says.

“No,” Lex replies, stepping into her space. “Top one.”

She grins, grabs both of our hands, and squeezes once, a silent thank you.

We’re back in our seats by the time the stage lights shift to that muted lavender wash, soft and moody, like twilight slipping into memory.

Bella walks out. Her hair is curled and pinned to one side, just loose enough to bounce with each step, styled like a vintagestarlet on the edge of rebellion. Her dress flows like smoke, soft lavender layered in sheer chiffon, catching the light like it was dipped in silver. It hugs and releases in perfect places, trailing behind her like it’s always been part of her.

Josh steps out beside her. He’s shirtless with black pants sharp at the hip with a single lavender stripe wrapping his thigh like brushstroke on canvas. Her light. His shadow.

The music builds delicate strings layered over soft, rising power. This isn’t Trifecta’s Row Party chaos. This is something quieter, more intimate and aching. A ballet of breath and longing.

Bella falls into the movement like she’s made of it. Every line is liquid. Every reach, every lift, every extension is purposeful. Josh mirrors her like a whisper. She glides across the stage, turns into his arms, unravels midair and lands as if gravity was just waiting for her permission.

Lex leans forward beside me, already filming. “I love the sexy dances,” he says under his breath. “And the chair ones? Don’t get me wrong, they kill me. But this? Our girl dancing like a damn princess up there?” He exhales slowly. “Does things to me, babe.”

I can’t even look away to answer. My throat’s already tight. “She’s… everything,” I whisper.

Beside me, Mom exhales softly. “She’s beautiful, son. She’s going to make a beautiful bride.”

“Mom—”

She tilts her head. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Then she turns her attention to me, her hand sliding over to find mine. “I always saw it, you know,” she says gently. “The way you looked at her.”

I glance over, caught in the moment, in the sound, in the swell of music that feels like it’s stitching itself through my chest.

“Even when you were younger. That first time she came over with Ellie… she was this little spitfire. Busted-up knees from dance, messy hair, yelling at Cal for calling her short. And you just watched her. Like she was a thunderstorm rolling through your ribs.”

I laugh quietly. “I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“Oh, we did,” she says. “You were sixteen. She was bubbly and crazy. And you? You were calm, Cade. But the second she walked into a room, you lit up.”

Onstage, Bella floats into a turn—her arms extended, her eyes distant and soft—like she’s dancing through the dream of a girl who used to sit on the floor of my studio and watch me paint for hours.

“She used to sneak into your studio,” Mom says, like she’s reading my thoughts. “Said she was hanging out with Ellie, but she always ended up with you. Curled up on the floor, head on her knees, just watching you paint. She wouldn’t even talk. Just sat there like your silence was the only place she could breathe.”