Dances with Monsters(78)

Heath couldn't help a tiny half-smile at the mention of her name. He glanced at the corner of his desk where the sack with the pie she'd brought him still sat. "Yeah, things are good," he said, surprising himself with how easily he could talk about her. "Met her family. Her old man threatened to kill me, sisters threatened to chop my balls off, but it wasn't anything I didn't expect or couldn't handle."

"Good," Connor replied. "Things getting more serious between you two?"

"I mean, things are cool," Heath said evasively. "We're still getting to know each other and all that. She's a good girl."

"She seems like," Connor agreed. "Lana and the girls want to meet her. So does John."

"You told John about her?" Heath demanded.

"It was kind of an accident. He wanted to know why you didn't come by yesterday." Like Drew's family, Heath's had a habit of getting together on Sundays now as well which was mostly Lana's influence.

"Dammit, Connor," Heath said, truly annoyed. "I wasn't ready for John to know about her yet. You and Lana and the girls, I don't mind, but not John. Not yet."

"Why?" Connor asked. "I mean, what's the problem?"

Heath thought of Drew's past and winced. He didn't know how she would react to his previously abusive father. "She's…she's had a rough time in the past," he said. "I don't know that she's ready to meet him anytime soon."

"Well, Lana wants you two over on Sunday for a barbecue," Connor replied. "Which is the real reason why I'm calling. And John is gonna be there."

"Then I'm not sure I can bring her," Heath answered simply.

"Talk to her, man," Connor insisted. "I don't know what happened to her, it's none of my business. But Lana really wants to get the family together before you leave for Smackdown, sort of a 'good luck Heath' party, and she told me in no uncertain terms that I can't get off this phone until you promise to come and to bring your new girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Heath replied automatically. He paused, thinking, then sighed. "Tell Lana I'll talk to Drew. And you tell John he better be on his fuckin' best behavior."

"Give the man a break, Heath," Connor said quietly. "He's not the same man. If you would just let go of the past a little…you'd see that."

"I'm tryin', Connor," Heath said abruptly. "I really am."

"All right. Well, go call your girlfriend and let me know later what she says. Don't make me look bad in front of my wife."

"Later," Heath said darkly and hung up the phone. He leaned back in his chair and yawned deeply, his mind whirling. Between the tournament's recent turn of events, the higher stakes and now this family get-together, it was a lot to take in.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost nine. He frowned. Drew had come by around six, and said she was only going to be at the studio for a couple hours. Shouldn't she have made it home by now? His mind turned to other thoughts, less pleasant, and wondered if she'd run into trouble.

As if by magic, his phone went off for the third time that night and he snatched it up. A genuine smile crossed his face as he read her message.

"Made it home—I fell asleep or I would have texted you sooner! I'm sorry. Hope you liked the pie. Call me tomorrow. Sweet dreams. Xoxo"

"Was starting to worry about you," he typed. "Glad to hear you're tucked in. I will talk to you tomorrow. Sweet dreams to you."

He wanted to add some x's and o's like she had, but he didn't. He wished he could kiss and hug her for real, but he'd settle for thinking about it instead. As he set his phone back down, he wondered when he'd be able to see her again, and decided it would have to be tomorrow.





Chapter Seventeen


Drew left the café twenty minutes early the next evening, eager to get home, change her clothes, feed Rocky and get to the studio. She had made quite a bit of progress the previous night, actually finishing the dance. Tonight, she would put all of it together and begin working on cleaning up the choreography. Creating a dance was a challenging yet fulfilling activity for her; it demanded discipline and patience, as well as draining her creativity in order to make it as perfect—to her—as possible. It wasn't uncommon for her to create an entire dance, only to end up completely changing half of it because she was no longer satisfied with what she had originally come up with. Moreover, she tended to have a short attention span at times, and locking herself into a dance studio for a minimum of two hours with few other distractions forced her to concentrate on the task at hand and buckle down for the work. Earlier that day, she'd finally told Bunz that she would do the showcase, although her stomach twisted in fear at the idea of performing in front of God only knew how many people. Naturally, Bunz expected no other answer and merely lifted a shoulder at her, saying, "Yeah?"