Had she been too hasty in walking away? Why were there no guarantees that she’d made the right decision?
She turned gently, away from the back of the auditorium, trying a move, feet playing out the steps she saw in her mind. She reminded herself Cole was watching—he could see her internal struggle as it surfaced right there on the stage in front of him, but after several seconds of holding it in, the music swelled and Charlotte’s shoulders snapped back into position, her arms delicate but strong, outstretched on either side of her.
And it was just her and the music.
She let her body flow with the familiar orchestral piece, the sound of the strings filling her, leading her on a path across the stage. Her muscles tightened as she turned—not full out, but not cautious.
She closed her eyes, marking the steps as they raced through her mind, reminding her how it felt to be sure of herself, to have the confidence that she was excellent, that she was made for this exact thing.
Why would she ever think she could be anything else?
What if this was all she was? What if she really had nothing else to offer?
What if she’d made a terrible mistake?
She snapped back to a standing position and the music stopped. She stared out toward the back of the auditorium, into the sound booth, aware that she’d lost herself and Cole had been the only one to see it.
It was unlikely he’d realized or cared about her internal struggle, but she felt naked and vulnerable all the same.
She turned away, embarrassed. She’d revealed a part of herself she hadn’t intended to share.
The house lights came up, though still dim, and she forced herself to pretend. No sense making it even more awkward than it already was. She turned around and drew in the beautiful space. The auditorium was big enough for a good-sized crowd, probably over five hundred people. The floors sloped at the top, looking down on the stage, making every seat a good one, and the theatre managed to have a sort of elegant feel, despite being part of a campground.
“Kind of a shame they don’t use this place anymore,” she called out to Cole’s shadowy figure in the back.
He slipped out from the sound booth and approached the stage, making quick work of the stairs in the center aisle. He surveyed the empty seats.
“They used to put on shows here all year long. Summer was the busiest. Harbor Pointe is a small town, but this place had a reputation, and somehow they drew audiences from miles away.” He walked up the stairs and onto the stage.
“Does anyone use it for anything anymore?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Silas always loved Julianna, so he made an exception for her recitals, but honestly, I think it’s too painful for him now that he’s alone.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not really my scene.”
“Yeah, you said that,” she said, feigning surprise. “It was a shocking revelation.”
He found her eyes and for the first time, something sort of resembling a smile skittered across his lips. It was the faintest spark of amusement, and it almost instantly disappeared. But she’d caught it, and it made her want to see it again. It made her want to be the reason for it.
She gave him a wry smile and a moment passed between them—the tiniest flicker. And then it was gone, and in its place, the return of his stoic expression.
She quickly looked away.
“It really is a beautiful building,” she said. The ceiling was high, with thick wooden beams serving as decoration. And standing on the stage, hearing the music—she couldn’t deny it—she wanted to dance.
And that realization made her question everything she thought she’d decided, including her being in Harbor Pointe at all.
18
Cole stood dumbly on the stage while Charlotte continued to look around the dark theatre.
She had such a curiosity about the space, its dressing rooms, its scene shop, how much wing space it had. She ran her hand over the ropes on the side against the wall, muttering something about “fly lines”—and Cole said nothing.
They were in her world now, which had been obvious the second she started moving on the stage. And as the solo member of her audience, the odd notion that he was witnessing something special came over him.
He’d never paid much attention to dance, even though his sister had built her life around it. That was always “Julianna’s thing,” and it shamed him a little that he hadn’t taken more of an interest. Sure, he attended the recitals, and he’d helped her with the construction of the studio, but he could’ve done better. He could’ve asked questions or made a point to try and love what she loved so much.
Still, it didn’t take an expert to know that Charlotte was in a class all her own—the way she moved, with an odd combination of grace and strength—it had turned something over inside of him, and frankly, he didn’t like it.
If his own mother had taught him one thing, it was that women couldn’t be trusted. They lied. They manipulated. They didn’t stick around. His run-in with Gemma should’ve served as a stark reminder of that.
He’d be a fool to pretend otherwise.
And yet, there was something different about Charlotte. There was a naïvete about her that had him curious. He’d watched her up on that stage as she spun on her tiptoes, enveloped in light, and he wanted to know more.
But this was how it started, wasn’t it? This was how it always started—a faint question that led to a date, then another, and before he knew it, his heart was tied up in a way he couldn’t untangle.
Not this time. It didn’t matter how intrigued he was by her beauty and her charm—he wasn’t about to go down that road again.
He was better off alone.
“Sorry.” Rachel walked out onto the stage. “My sister called. You guys good?”
Cole shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and nodded. “All good. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Charlotte turned to the other woman and smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for letting me look around. This is such a beautiful space.”
Rachel cast a look of longing over the theatre. “It really is, isn’t it? I’m so glad that it’s getting at least a little bit of use. And I can’t wait to see you dance.”
Charlotte smiled, a shyness coming over her. Cole studied her in the lull of the conversation. Connor had said she was one of the best dancers in the country, but her humility seemed genuine.
There he went again—romanticizing his curiosity. He didn’t like the way his own mind was betraying him.
“We should go,” he said.
Charlotte looked at him, brow furrowed as if he’d said something wrong.
“Right,” Rachel said quickly. “And I should go check on my dad.”
A wave of loneliness washed over him, thinking about Silas all alone out here at Wonderland, and he wondered if he’d end up like Silas one day.
Would he regret it if he did?
Charlotte thanked Rachel again, and then followed Cole out the door and back to his truck in the parking lot. She stopped in front of the headlight and looked at him.
“You fixed it.”
He looked away. His buddy at the autobody shop had come through a lot quicker than Cole had expected. “Yep.”
“I didn’t notice before,” she said. He could feel her eyes on him. It was unnerving. “So, you have a bill for me?”