The aftermath of her accident was a rightfully sensitive subject; if I were in her shoes, I’d be livid at me for prying. Nevertheless, the longing in her eyes when I’d mentioned dancing again had imprinted itself on my consciousness, and I couldn’t let it go. I’m perfectly happy locking my fears in the closet and pretending they don’t exist. “What are you afraid of, Scarlett?” The question slipped out, quiet yet filled with certainty. Her physical limitations weren’t her biggest obstacles; her fears were.
