Give & Take (Redbeard Cove #2)

21. Raphael

Chapter 21

Raphael

W hen I pull up to the dance studio, I’m still buzzing. Not with that need anymore, though that’s a low hum as always whenever I think of Lana. But with that world-tilting shift that hit me like bricks in the chest.

I jog up the steps to the studio in a haze, not registering anything outside my head except a need to see Nova and Aurora. To know if seeing them will feel like pieces in a puzzle clicking into place or something heavy, like pieces of my life I won’t get to keep.

All the kids are in a huddle in the center of the room, arms around each other’s shoulders. The ones on the far side have to stretch up to reach the teacher, who’s in the middle of it too. She looks up as I walk behind the chairs where the moms sit, giving me a broad smile.

“Yay Tiny Dancers!” The kids all shriek at once, nearly scaring my socks off. Then they break up and look around for their people.

Aurora spots me first. She lights up like a supernova, which in turn makes my chest explode. “Raph!” she hollers, and comes barreling at me in a superman leap over the poor lady sitting in the row of chairs in front of me.

The lady shrieks and I have to bend way over to catch my little girl, nearly falling into the woman’s lap. But a moment later I’ve got Aurora in my arms, and not a moment too soon. Nova slams into me next and then my arms and heart are so full I swear to God I can feel my eyes brimming with tears neither of them would understand.

I squeeze them tight, thinking about how I have the whole universe in my arms. Minus one woman.

“Why are you here?” Nova asks after batting at me to be let back down to the ground a minute later.

“Aren’t I allowed to pick you up sometimes?” I ask in mock insult.

“Mommy says you don’t look after us in the nighttime except on really special occasions,” Aurora says.

“She said she’s not having special occasions again,” Nova says.

Is special occasion code for date?

Is Lana not having any more dates?

“Well I’m here now. How do you guys feel about…hot chocolate?”

“Right now? At bedtime?” Aurora asks.

I check the time on the wall. Shit, it’s after eight.

“I mean…for breakfast tomorrow,” I improvise.

A slow Grinch grin widens across Aurora’s face, and I swear to God it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

“You must be the famous Raph,” A voice says, drawing my attention from the girls. I set Aurora down, telling the girls to go grab their stuff.

“I don’t know about famous,” I say, dropping a grin before I realize what I’m doing.

The girls’ teacher, who introduces herself as Meredith, is pretty. Extremely pretty, with pale brown skin and long, skinny braids pulled into one thick one over her shoulder. She’s wearing a black unitard thing that emphasizes an athletic dancer’s form.

And none of it awakens a single feeling in my body except neutral politeness.

“Tell that to those girls. They talk like you hung the moon.” Meredith laughs. It’s melodic and sweet, and if it wasn’t clear from the laugh that she was flirting with me, it is from the way she lowers her lashes and flips that braid to her other side.

It’s incredible. It’s like my senses have developed some kind of singularity that only responds to one woman. Someone should study this phenomenon.

“They’re great kids,” she says.

“My favorite,” I agree. “Well, catch ya on the flip side!”

She frowns.

So do I. I’ve never once uttered those words in that combination before. Neither have I fist-bumped a woman before, but I find myself doing that now, as if my mouth and body want to make it extremely clear that I’m not flirting back.

After dropping the girls off, I hover at the door while Lana sends them upstairs to start getting ready for bed. The minute they’re up the stairs, I sweep Lana into my arms, pulling her outside onto the porch with me.

She gasps. “Raph!”

But she sees as well as I do the porch is dark, and reaches up to pull my face down to hers.

I kiss her so thoroughly I actually feel her body melt against mine. The little sound she makes as I gently sweep my tongue against hers makes me forget my own name.

But I don’t forget hers. When she breaks the kiss, I say it on every breath—as my hand fans across her lower back, my other against her thigh. As I glide my hand into her hair, tugging her head back just enough so her face is tilted up to mine.

“This is going to be excruciating,” I say.

“What?”

“Seeing you, and not being able to do this.”

She laughs, and this time even though it’s soft and reserved; even though it’s the one I’m normally gifted, I don’t take it for granted. It still spirals down into every last cell in my body.

“Goodnight, Lana,” I say, before she tells me she has to go.

I usher her into her door and close it behind her, before she can say a word. Because any word she says to me and I’ll never let her go.