The Kizomba. I didn’t want to see that shit.

Tommy would hold her tight, would lead her around that stage, move her so that what she was, how she moved, became an accessory. Aly was not an accessory. She was the fine, rich fabric that held me together, even when I tried to tear at the threads. She was woven into every thought I’d had. She was the crasher of doubt, the sparkle I’d tried to rub dull for months.

I couldn’t watch Tommy try to outshine her. Besides, I’d made enough enemies in the past year and a half. I didn’t need any more and I suspected glaring at them stage right, as they finished their routine would put me first on Aly’s hit list.

I didn’t want on her hit list.

I wanted back in her heart.

The music finished, the crowd roaring as Aly brought Leann on stage and my cousin took her bow. The thick scent of flowers collected backstage, set in the bouquets fathers offered their kids, in the arrangements that spilled around the stage. It made my sinuses ache, but then I’d been feeling the weight of my practice schedule, my own depression, since the night Emily’s father glared at me in Tremé.

It was that look, that disgusted glare that had me backtracking from what Aly worked in me.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you, keiki káne.” My father had good intentions. He’d had my back when one glare from that man sent me down the sidewalk like a coward.

“He can’t help it, Kona. That man is cruel.” My mother never thought I was to blame for Emily’s death. Both of them really, were blinded by their love for me. Both unable to understand why I couldn’t let go of what I’d done.

The accident, my guilt, I pushed both back, even managed to work out what I’d say to Aly once the crowd finished congratulating her.

“Leann,” I shouted to my cousin over the small crowd of fourteen year olds who buzzed around her. “Leann!” I tried again, catching her attention. “Where’s Aly?”

But the woman was distracted, busy with the dance parents and the hyped, chatty dancers so she only nodded toward the dressing rooms.

My head was still full of that image of Aly on the stage and the reminder it set off in my chest. The way she smelled, the way she moved and it was those thoughts that dulled my awareness, that kept me distracted as I walked into the dressing room.

Once my eyes adjusted to the soft yellow light in the dressing room, and focused on the couple in front of me, everything I thought I wanted with Aly was stripped clean from my brain, followed by a white hot primal rage. Blind rage burned in my veins at the sight of Tommy pinning Aly to wall, at his damn hand on her hip and his mouth moving toward hers.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped at him, stepping under his arm when he tried to move closer.

But that bastard was quick, wrapping his fingers around her bicep before she could put more distance between them. “Beautiful, come on. It’s been too long. Give me some relief.” He moved and so did I, right at him as he pulled her against his hips.

“I don’t think so, motherfucker,” I said, then slugged Tommy so hard he went straight to the floor.

“Ransom!” I barely had my hands on him again, tossing him back before Aly came at me, trying hard to keep me off him.

I had to say something for the guy, he knew how to recover from a punch. “What the hell is your problem, asshole?” he yelled as he came up fast, got right in my face, moving with a quickness that was surprising.

I could not see past my rage. I hadn’t touched anyone in anger since I was fourteen, but I shoved Tommy’s chest because I wanted him away from Aly. I wanted him to know he couldn’t touch her. Ever. “Maybe I don’t want you hitting on her.”

“Maybe? Dude, please. You cut ties, I heard.” He brushed the blood from his lip. “Son of a bitch, I got an audition this weekend.” He glared at Aly like my attack was her fault. “This is the asshole you’re hung up on?”

“Shut up, Tommy. Get over yourself.” She stepped around me and even though he wasn’t between us anymore, I didn’t like her being even a foot in front of him. “You’re as tired as your freaking technique.”

“Bitch…”

“Say that shit again,” I threatened, moving Aly behind me while stepping towards Tommy, with my chest puffed out and my hands balled into tight fists.

He tilted his head, spitting once at my feet. “Take her. She isn’t worth the hassle.” He stepped backward, then spun on his heel and headed for the doorway, but stopped to glance over his shoulder at me. “Just remember, jackass, I’ve already been there, a fuck of a lot. You’re slopping up my seconds.”

I lunged for him, but Aly pulled me back. “Non, Ransom! Rete! Stop!” Aly said, tugging on my arm, but I jerked away from her.

“Him?” She glared at me and I couldn’t think of anything but that jackass on top of her. The image made my stomach roll. “That asshole? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t remember needing your permission to sleep with anybody, especially when that shit happened way before I even knew you.”

She was unbelievable, not remotely embarrassed that she’d slept with that Albir Rojas wannabe. Then I realized that probably hadn’t been that long ago. Especially the way Aly talked about her father’s strict rules. She would have had to been out of his home before Tommy touched her. She’d have had to been at Leann’s loft. “You were seventeen?”

“Yeah and how old were you when you lost it?” I hated the way Aly looked at me, like I was a hypocrite, even though I was. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me.”

I couldn’t burn the image of them together from my head. “Fuck, Aly.”

“What? Was I supposed to save myself for you?”

I glared at her wanting to scream yes. “What the fuck were you doing back here with him?”

“I came in here to…” She stopped, crossing her arms. “You know what? It’s none of your business.”

“None of my…how the hell do you figure that?”

She stepped right in front of me. “I didn’t ask you for any promises. You didn’t offer any and then, in case it slipped your mind, you told me to back off. I did. And before you say it, calling me Fred doesn’t damn well count.”

“It fucking should!”

“I don’t even know what that shit means! So maybe you can explain to me how any of that shit gives you the right to get pissed about my ex…whatever he was, trying to kiss me.”

“You know it’s not like that.” My voice went low and I knew she probably heard the warning in my tone.

“Really? You think I should just wait around for you to stop your damned moping?” The insult bit even though in the back of my mind I knew she was right. Aly had every right to be angry at me for all the bullshit I’d given her these past months. Still, I wasn’t used to anyone calling me on my shit like she did, not now, not in the heat of the moment when I was all jacked up. I didn’t like it and I guess that was what made me step closer, a threat I knew I’d never follow through with. Aly challenged me with a cock of her eyebrow, not backing down.

Finally, when I let myself calm a bit, when that rage I felt had tempered to mere anger, I stretched my neck, moved my head to the side probably looking like an asshole who didn’t care about her at all. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out how you can fuck me and then try to jump on him tonight. Shit, Aly, didn’t realized you moved that fast.”

“What the hell did you say to me you fucking bata?” She pushed me then, her own anger peeking into her flushed cheeks and I blinked, my jaw working.

Again she tried pushing me, seeming even angrier when I didn’t answer her, but I caught her hands on my chest. “Don’t fucking push me again.”

“Then don’t you damn well piss me off! You honestly thought that I was trying to jump him? You could accuse me of that? Really? Ala de traka!”