Page 25 of Igniting Sparks

“He was the best.”

Time to change the subject because my girl seems on the verge of tears.

I clear my throat and take a swallow of beer. “Does your ankle give out a lot?”

Mina wobbles her head. “It has its moments. Ever since the injury, it’s been a lot weaker than my other leg.”

“Do you still dance?”

“Nah,” she says. “I told you before—I gave up competitive dancing after the injury.”

“Yeah, but what about at your house? Or your mom’s? Just for fun?”

She smiles, but there’s no mirth in it. “No. I stopped taking lessons. And there wasn’t room for a barre or twirling at my mother’s house. It’s just too small. But I have memories of twirling.”

For someone as young as Mina, she carries such a heavy emotional sadness. A sadness I recognize.

What most people don’t know is that I gave up my dream early too—albeit a bit more willingly than Mina had to give up hers. But I know what it’s like to have a plan for your life, only to have it shot to shit.

Maybe that’s why I’m so eager to help her realize her dream.

Because she deserves to win.

I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you. I see a ton of twirling in your future. After you heal up, obviously.”

She rests her head on my shoulder with a contented sigh. “You know, when you say it, I almost believe it.”

Chapter 6

A Place to Twirl

Mina

The whole lying around and couch rotting lasted less than forty-eight hours. I’ve never been one for loafing, likely because my teenage years were filled with practice and performances instead of cheap liquor hangovers and bad decisions.

My mom says I was born old, but sometimes I think I was born scared.

Scared to fail. Scared to succeed. Scared to step one inch out of line for fear of losing it all.

Joke’s on me, though.

I lost it all, anyway.

But now, thanks to Braden, I have a second chance.

And I get to live with the most gorgeous man on the face of the planet.

A man I have zero idea what to do with, or how to behave around. I know he likes me, but I’m unsure if that extends beyond a little sister type affection. Sure, he’s sweet and kind, but besides a few forehead kisses, nothing has happened in the ten days since I’ve been living under his roof.

One positive is I’ve yet to see another woman here,so hopefully Braden is truly single, and I stand a snowball’s chance in hell of winning his affections.

He was dating some woman last month, but he hasn’t mentioned her, and I’m sure not inquiring.

Sometimes ignorance is bliss. That, and I’d hate to explain to an emergency room doctor why Braden’s date is covered in claw marks, courtesy of yours truly.

He might be my fake fiancé, but for now, he’s mine. And God help me, I’m fiercely territorial… over a man I’m too scared to touch.

Not that I haven’t replayed our kiss about a million times in my brain or fantasized about what might happen should we run into each other in the hallway, naked and damp from a shower.