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Olive

Rory

Welcome to the new group chat, ladies!

Harlow

Ooh, great idea, Ror!

Olive

Oh

Um, hi?

I didn’t realize I’d be added to the group already

Lucia

You met the feral bunch

You’re one of us now

Ella

ONE OF US ONE OF US

Rory

Not for much longer if you guys keep acting crazy

Harlow

Don’t let her fool you, Liv

Rory is as insane as the rest of us

Olive

Seriously, you guys would love my sister

She’s crazy

Lucia

Speaking of your sister…

How are things going with the porn star?

Olive

Oh God…

Please excuse me while I fall into a hole

Ella

No can do, Finch

We’ve already adopted you

You can’t run now

Olive

Okay, I won’t fall into a hole

As far as I know, Lane is good

I actually had lunch with him and Sage after her lesson this week

Harlow

God, he’s so smitten with you

It’s so fucking cute!

Olive

We’re friends now

Rory

The best foundation of all relationships

Olive

Not a relationship

Just a friendship

But I do enjoy spending time with him

And I might be obsessed with his daughter

I just need to take this slow…

Dressed in a pair of black leggings and one of my favorite oversized sweatshirts with my pointe shoes tossed over my shoulder, I bound down the stairs.

“Heading down to the studio?” my dad asks, catching me before I get to the basement door.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Been a long week. Figured this would do me some good.”

My dad smiles at me softly. “You seem like you’ve been doing really well lately.”

“I have,” I admit. “I’m starting to feel more like myself again.”

He immediately wraps his arms around me. “That’s all your mother and I have wanted for you. All of our kids are happy again.”

“Vi and Harv were always happy,” I reply.

With his hands on my shoulders, he looks at me affectionately. “And now you are, too.”

“I am,” I smile. “I really am.”

“I won’t keep you, Olive. I just want you to know how happy I am to finally see you happy again.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He leaves me to head down into the basement alone.

With my hair now pulled up into a tight bun and my pointe shoes on my feet, I put on my favorite piece to dance to—Prokofiev’s Romeo & Juliet .

I move around the room gracefully, focusing solely on this moment and nothing else.

I’m not thinking about how sweet my student’s father is and how much I enjoy spending time with him.

I’m not thinking about how butterflies erupt in my stomach every time our eyes meet.

I’m not thinking about how electricity coursed through me when he hugged me after walking me home the other day.

Nope, not thinking about those at all.

Lane Brooks certainly isn’t on my mind right now.

But if he was, I’m sure I’d have a smile on my face.

The large smile I’m currently sporting is purely coincidental.

Through the rest of the song, I leap and bend and pirouette, finding another piece of the old Olive in each movement. By the time it finishes, I’m a tiny bit closer to feeling whole again.

Hands on my hips, I lean forward and catch my breath. However, I don’t realize I’m not alone.

“That was beautiful, Liv.” My mother’s voice is warm and affectionate.

“I didn’t realize you were there,” I say as she crosses the room to stand beside me.

“I heard you come down and just wanted to see you.”

I smile as we both walk over to the small bench and sit. “I thought a bit of dancing could help clear my head.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks, concern clear in her voice.

“Yes,” I reassure her. “I’m completely fine. Just in my head a bit right now.”

She turns toward me and puts a hand on my arm. “What’s going on?”

After being closed off for so long, I don’t even think about keeping it in. “Well, it’s Lane, actually.”

My mom raises her eyebrow. “Sage’s dad?”

“Yeah.” I fidget with the hem of my sweatshirt. “We’ve been getting to know each other, and he’s really sweet.”

“Is that so?” She looks like she’s trying not to smile.

“It’s not like that,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine. “But we’re friends now. Which means I can see Sage more often.”

She laughs now. “I understand that desire. She’s such a sweet girl.”

“She is,” I breathe, sighing wistfully. “She’s the best kid.”

“Olive…”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I squeeze her arm. “I promise. Sometimes, the knowledge hits me, though, and it’s still hard.”

She pulls me in tight, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I know it is, sweetie. But don’t forget that family doesn’t have to be blood.”

“I know.”

She’s right. I know she is.

But my new friend that I can absolutely see myself developing feelings for already has blood family.

I know I shouldn’t be concerned about it—we’re not together or anything—but I can’t help but be a little bit sad that he could never have that with me.

Nobody could ever have that with me.