1. Kenzie

1

KENZIE

K enzie Forrest gazed out the window at her childhood backyard as the classical music from her portable speaker swelled. She inhaled and lifted her arms in front of her, hearing her grandmother’s voice in the back of her mind as she let them drift over her head into fifth position.

Shoulders down, MacKenzie. Elbows up, and soften your hands…

Kenzie had been incredibly fortunate to go so far in her ballet career, especially for a little girl who had grown up in a tiny Pennsylvania farming community. But even when she was onstage at the Met, taking direction under the most famous choreographers and ballet masters in the world, it was her grandmother’s gentle voice she always heard in her mind while she danced, encouraging her and inspiring her to make her best work just a little better every single day.

We’re so lucky, she would often say, her blue eyes twinkling as she instructed young Kenzie in her ballet school in their hometown of Trinity Falls. We get to dance.

And her grandmother was exactly right, of course. Kenzie was convinced that Grandma Lee’s endless optimism would help the older woman live forever. Right now, she was probably energetically sweeping the floors of her classroom at the theatre a few blocks away, preparing for the preschoolers’ movement class that was the lead-in to ballet.

Kenzie smiled, thinking about the little ones waving their tulle scarves and scampering around to classical music. She had been one of those children herself, and it was in that room that the seeds of her obsession had been planted.

The last strains of the Moderato from Swan Lake played on Kenzie’s speaker as she finished her modified port de bras .

Getting injured had felt like the end of the world the night it happened, and she’d had to work hard to keep her spirits up during the days right after the surgeons reattached her Achilles tendon. At first, she was in a painful haze from the drugs, then she was just in pain—emotional as well as physical. They had put her in a cast with her foot extended downward in the beginning, which meant she could put no weight on her foot at all. So, in addition to hurting, she hadn’t been able to get the exercise her athletic body was used to, which dragged her mood even further down.

The day they put her in a boot with her foot flexed and told her that soon she would be allowed to carefully stand and walk with crutches, all her hope and natural optimism came flooding back.

As soon as she was allowed, she had begun walking the halls of the rehab facility day and night, chatting with anyone she bumped into. She even made friends with a few people who were stuck in their beds like she had been.

“Kenzie Forrest, I think you’re even more of a star offstage than on,” her favorite nurse would tease, chuckling and shaking her head when she came in to find Kenzie reading a celebrity gossip magazine to another patient or trying to convince them to grab their crutches and go for a little walk.

One day, she had a call from the artistic director of the ballet, which had been a truly exciting moment.

“Focus on your recovery,” she had told Kenzie warmly. “Ballet can wait.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Kenzie promised. “I’m already getting lots of exercise, and I think the crutches are strengthening my arms.”

“Well, your positive attitude is as strong as ever,” the director had said fondly. “That’s as likely to get you back to work as anything else you’re doing. We love you, Kenzie. Stay in touch.”

Kenzie had sent her love to the company, and they signed off with more well-wishes. But Kenzie understood what the director was implying when she mentioned her positive attitude.

A ruptured Achilles tendon was a career-ending injury for most dancers. And even if Kenzie came back from it, it would probably be another half a year before she could train like before—let alone dance at the level she had achieved before she got hurt.

The company was sending their love because realistically, they knew they probably wouldn’t see her in the rehearsal hall again.

But the knowledge that they weren’t confident she could recover hadn’t stopped her from pursuing her recovery with everything she had. Kenzie wasn’t a quitter, and she wasn’t going to let someone else’s ideas get her down.

She might be standing in her parents’ family room now, looking out at her old treehouse, but she had just done a lovely arms-only port de bras . And soon she would be able to do much more.

There was a knock at the back door, and she smiled, knowing just who it would be.

“Kenzie, it’s me,” her bestie from high school called in the window.

“Come in,” Kenzie said, waving to her.

A moment later, Mal was slipping in. Her auburn hair was just as long as it had been the last time Kenzie saw her, but it was secured in a ponytail today. She held a white paper bag in one hand and a cardboard holder with two small coffees in the other.

When she saw Kenzie, her green eyes lit up.

“You’re walking around,” Mal said happily. “Great job.”

“Baby steps,” Kenzie said, laughing. “I was just dancing, at least the top half of me was.”

“I’d argue that’s your best half,” Mal joked, quirking an eyebrow .

Kenzie grabbed her crutches and swung herself over to embrace her friend, feeling incredibly lucky to have her here.

“Wow, you’re really good on those things,” Mal said. “Hey, I brought some treats from the bakery, but I know you might not be able to eat that stuff, so I also brought black coffee.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kenzie said. “I finally can eat what I want for a little while. Hey, was the paper out there?”

Mal froze, a strange expression on her face.

“I already read it online, obviously,” Kenzie told her. “It’s just that my mom will want the clipping.”

“She’ll want that clipping?” Mal asked, sounding horrified.

The Philadelphia paper had included Kenzie in their monthly Dance Beat column. It was pretty brutal, describing the moment of her injury in harrowing detail.

“ Her very first time onstage as a principal dancer, Pennsylvania-born ballerina MacKenzie Forrest ruptured her Achilles tendon with an audible pop that left the audience gasping,” MacKenzie quoted. “ Forrest, who had been giving a career-defining performance as the Dew Drop Fairy in Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker up to that point, yada, yada, yada … ”

The yada, yada, yada was actually will probably never dance again , but Kenzie didn’t want to lend credence to the idea by saying it out loud. Not to mention that she didn’t want to bum out her friend.

“She’ll like that part about career-defining won’t she?” Mal asked with a smile .

“Oh, she’ll love it,” Kenzie agreed. “There’s even a picture.”

The picture was of her partner carrying her offstage like a sack of potatoes while she wept in his arms. But the costume and make-up were gorgeous enough to make it look tragically beautiful instead of just pathetic.

“Besides,” Kenzie added, “just being mentioned in the paper as a principal dancer, even if it’s for a grisly injury, is a big deal in Mom’s book. I was a soloist forever before that promotion.”

“I guess you have a couple of good points there,” Mal decided. “Hang on and I’ll grab it.”

Kenzie headed to the little table where Mal had put their breakfast and leaned her crutches against her chair before lowering herself into it.

She was learning to have so much appreciation of all the things her body did for her every day. Even simple things she had taken for granted all her life were more difficult now. One day, when she was back to normal, she would remember her good fortune every time she was able to sit, stand, or reach for something on a high shelf without having to plan it all out first.

She was settled in when Mal came back, newspaper in hand, and sat across from her.

“So, how are you holding up?” Mal asked, setting the newspaper on the table, then grabbing the paper bag and pulling out two beautiful croissants topped with delicate almond slivers.

“If those are your famous almond croissants, then I’m doing really, really well,” Kenzie said.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Mal said softly .

“Neither was I,” Kenzie teased. “I mean I was a little, but my mouth is literally watering.”

Mal laughed this time and Kenzie smiled back at her.

“You know what’s funny?” Kenzie said. “I’m actually doing surprisingly well.”

Mal nodded, grabbing her coffee and removing the lid to add cream. Mal had always been good at giving Kenzie a little space when they talked. Kenzie grabbed a croissant and peeled off a piece, putting it in her mouth and moaning a little at the buttery goodness.

“Is it because you’re healing fast?” Mal asked after a moment.

“I’m recovering on target,” Kenzie said. “But it’s also kind of nice to have this pause in my life where I can breathe a little, read, talk to friends and family, eat what I want, and just, I don’t know… live. I guess I didn’t realize how much of my life ballet was taking up until I stopped for a little while.”

“I could definitely see that,” Mal said thoughtfully. “It seemed like ballet was your life for a long time.”

Kenzie felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t come home much after she’d gone into a professional training program midway through high school. And she definitely hadn’t done a good job staying in touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “I wish we hadn’t fallen out of touch. I’m so glad we have this chance to catch up.”

“Are you kidding?” Mal teased. “Literally nothing has happened with me. You’re already caught up.”

“Clearly not,” Kenzie said, looking at the cute little logo on the paper bag. “You went from a shy little thing to a girl boss while I was gone, didn’t you?”

“I like this spin on things,” Mal laughed. “It’s much better than just saying that I never left my hometown.”

“Well, that’s the other thing I’ve been thinking about,” Kenzie said. “I know it’s kind of old-fashioned, but I’ve honestly been thinking more and more about settling down and starting a family. You know I love kids, and I can’t dance forever.”

She held her breath, knowing a lot of women her age might laugh at that idea.

“You do love kids,” Mal said, nodding without a bit of judgement in her eyes.

“Well, maybe this injury was a sign that it’s time for that to happen,” Kenzie said feeling the same little tingle of excitement she always felt when she thought about falling in love. “And if the movies are right, finding a nice guy in my hometown at Christmas should be easy as pie.”

“First of all,” Mal said. “Baking a perfect pie is anything but easy. Secondly, no, that’s not going to happen here.”

“Weren’t you getting ready for a date the other day when we were on the phone?” Kenzie asked. “With dreamy Aidan Webb?”

She pretended to swoon, and Mal laughed.

“So how was it?” Kenzie asked, leaning in.

“Honestly,” Mal said, frowning. “I can’t believe he’s the same guy.”

“What do you mean?” Kenzie asked.

“I’m not even sure why he went on the date in the first place,” Mal said. “We got set up, but he could have just said no.”

“What happened?” Kenzie asked, sipping her coffee. As disappointed as she was that the date hadn’t gone well, she loved the feeling of sitting and gossiping with her bestie.

“He was… an indifferent grump,” Mal said, shaking her head sadly. “We met at the restaurant because he had to work in the city until late, which was fine. But he was fifteen minutes late, didn’t really apologize, and then he was rude to the waiter. He asked me like two questions, didn’t listen to the answers, said nothing about himself, and spent the rest of the night staring at his phone.”

“Yikes,” Kenzie said.

“Right?” Mal said. “I keep trying to think if I could have said anything to offend him. But I never really got the chance because I barely said anything to him at all.”

“That doesn’t sound like Aidan Webb,” Kenzie said, shaking her head.

“Remember when he was the emcee of the talent show our freshman year?” Mal asked.

“What were we thinking?” Kenzie asked, shaking her head and laughing.

She and Mal had dressed up like clowns and done a juggling act with hacky sacks. They weren’t very good jugglers, and all the other girls who competed wore super pretty outfits and sang love songs.

Aidan had been amazing though—he’d been super sweet and funny announcing them, not rolling his eyes like the cool upper-class girls did .

“Do you remember when he invented the School Spirit Awards?” she asked.

“Yep,” Mal said. “He made all that homemade swag and got on the intercom during morning announcements to congratulate the winner every month and share a bio about them. I learned a lot of cool stuff about kids who weren’t on the football team because of his wacky bios.”

“Remember when he knitted Jessie Sullivan a scarf in the school colors for winning the district chess tournament?” Kenzie said fondly.

“His grandma taught him to knit just for that,” Mal said with a sigh. “But it’s like the guy I went out with hid the real Aidan Webb and took his place. I guess people change as they get older.”

“Not us,” Kenzie told her firmly. “We’re not a pair of jaded old maids. We’re about to have the time of our lives. My parents are on their Christmas cruise for a month , so we have the house to ourselves. We can have movie marathons and order a pizza every night if we want.”

“Sure,” Mal said, giving her a funny smile.

Suddenly Kenzie felt stupid. Mallory had her own place and she had probably been choosing what she wanted to watch on television and eating whatever she wanted to eat every single night of her adult life.

Ballet had control of Kenzie’s days, obviously, and of course the nights and weekends when she performed. But sometimes she forgot that it controlled her free time, too. Between the strict diet and sleep routine she needed to stay strong, and the tiny paychecks, it was pretty safe to say that ballet dictated just about everything in her life.

When she’d gotten hurt, Kenzie had been sharing a small apartment with four other dancers, in the kind of neighborhood where the landlord was willing to look the other way at having so many young women sharing what was technically supposed to be a one-bedroom place. Kenzie hadn’t had control of the music or the television in months, and night or day, there was always the sound of someone on the phone, or doing stretches with an online video.

But those little sacrifices had always felt worth it. And besides, Kenzie didn’t mind. She liked dancing, and her colleagues, and she wasn’t exactly a material person.

Being back in her childhood home felt like another world. After she’d unpacked and settled down last night, Kenzie hadn’t been able to sleep. It was too quiet here, and too strange knowing that she was completely alone in the house.

It was hitting her now that all this time, even though she’d been out on her own, she hadn’t really been living the life of a normal adult.

“Hey,” Mal said gently. “Are you sure you don’t want to come out for dinner with the girls tonight?”

Kenzie felt a pang of guilt. And she knew that her emotions always showed on her face. That was helpful onstage, but not so much in real life where you didn’t always want your friends seeing your existential crises.

“Thanks, but it’s my first full day home,” Kenzie said, plastering on a smile. “I want to get settled in. And hey, I was hoping to get a contractor over here as soon as possible to put in mirrors and a barre so I can start training again. But everyone I’ve called is booked until after New Year’s. Do you know anyone? ”

“I can ask around,” Mal said, nodding. “But I’m guessing a lot of people want projects done in time for Christmas, so you might have to wait.”

Mal’s eyes went worriedly to the boot on Kenzie’s foot. Kenzie guessed that she was probably wondering if she should be training yet.

“That’s okay,” Kenzie said. “I’m not going anywhere. At least not quickly.”

She looked pointedly at her crutches, and Mal giggled.

Mal started telling her something about Honey Peterson, and Kenzie listened and asked questions as she got a whole round of gossip about each of Mal’s friends and their misadventures.

By the time Mal headed out, Kenzie was feeling really good.

She stood by the door for a moment, looking out at the backyard once more. The swings on her old swing set drifted in the breeze and the bare tree branches formed a canopy overhead. In the summertime, they would be heavy with lush green leaves. But it was beautiful to have so much nature close, even in the wintertime.

Her injury had been a setback. But it had opened up so many opportunities to try things she’d never really had a chance to before.

She was going to eat good food, relax, hang out with friends, and maybe even go on a dream date with a sweet guy…

Now she just had to figure out where to find one.