The Failed Audition (Circus Is Family #1)

by Krista Ritchie

His features are bathed in the red hue, devilish and dangerous: black slacks, a white shirt, a few buttons popped open to reveal firmly cut muscles. His dark brown hair brushes the tops of his ears, the thick strands pushed out of his face. With a strong, unshaven jaw, I predict he’s in his late twenties.

kneels. Right in front of me. What…the… With one hand on my thigh, to steady me, Nikolai knots the laces of my untied shoe. How he makes this seem sexual—I have no idea. And I think he knows the effect he carries, the charm and power. That devilish smile pulls at his lips again,

“I’d rather feed your hunger than watch you starve, and you’re foolish if you say no.”

He smiles, a real one this time. “I never forget, myshka.” He rises and holds out his hand for me. Without hesitation, I take it, and Nikolai helps me to my feet.

“Am I a mistake—” “No, myshka. You’re just the unexpected, beautiful thing in my life.”

I’ve found that life is a series of crossroads, dead-ends and U-turns. There is no real destination. There is no goal to end all goals. As long as we’re living, we’ll always keep driving.

Nikolai towers behind me and massages my constricted shoulders. Honestly, he can’t be real. Although, he did point out my nervousness, so his kindness also came with unleashing my anxieties.

“We’re not going to fit together.” “We are,” he says lowly. “In all ways.”

I think I prefer Lily Calloway, the one who’s a bit shy, but in the face of so much publicity, so many warring voices, she’s stood strong in the end. It’s bravery that I think I need.

“No. A devil protects his demon.”

And then he lifts me in his arms and tucks me to his chest, warmth blanketing me. We’re on his bed, beneath his comforter in seconds, and he just holds me, strong, muscular arms wrapped around my frame. I press my forehead to his collar, trying not to shiver so much. He kisses my cheek and whispers soft Russian words that bathe my skin in heat. I turn them over in my mind, clinging onto what sounds like: Vot moe serce. And then others…that I can’t uncover. I tilt my chin up, silently asking. He repeats the Russian words, so deeply, but refuses to translate this time. It’s enough as it is. Whatever the meaning, it leaves me sweltering.

His gaze never leaves me as he snaps the new necklace around my collar. “There’s no confusion anymore, myshka.”

His breath warms my ear. And he whispers, “I choose you.”

“One day. I will. Even if it takes me years.” Years? It sounds like I’m assuming we’ll be together for that long. I open my mouth to clarify my slip, but he speaks first. “Even if it takes you forever,” he rephrases, his eyes bearing on my heart. “Are you ready?” He means for the handstand competition. But beneath his words there is so much more. Am I ready for a life with him? “Yes.” I nod, without hesitation. “I’m more than ready.”

There are moments that do not belong to us. Lives that we can only see fragments of, and as painful as it is to say goodbye to the whole picture, we’re not supposed to have it anymore.

“Why are you so patient with me?” I whisper. “Because every part of me wants to take care of you.”

“Anything is possible.” And I think, only with my devil.

We all traverse in and out of people’s worlds, leaving footprints. Some larger, some smaller, but there is always a mark. We can’t sweep it away.

“I will tell you this every single day if that’s what you need to hear. Just to believe these truths. You’re good enough, myshka. Because you work hard. Because you’re willing to learn. And because you have talent. You wouldn’t be able to pick up skills this quickly if you didn’t. And if you go home now, you’re giving up.”

I hear him. I hear his words that come from a place of love for me. But nowhere in them does he convince me to stay for him. Not once.

He won’t let me slack off, not for my emotions, not for him. Not for anything. I think I love him more for it.

“I’d help you every day so that you could see a better tomorrow. I will never give you less than that.”

I love you. I see those words all over him. I feel them.

I’ve never felt closer to Nikolai than right now. And I trust him. With every single part of my life—I trust this man.

“No, myshka. The way you stare at me…it’s like…” His gray eyes light up. “It’s like you admire parts of me that no one else sees.”

Nikolai Kotova is the sum of his brothers and sister. And more. He is selfless, loyal, dedicated and wholly determined—the most responsible twenty-six-year-old, the most mature man. He is power and strength. But most importantly, he is love. And family.

“Whatever happens, just know that the parts of my life with you have been my favorite.”

Katya whispers, “I can’t even imagine…” Timo lifts his head. “I can,” he says to Nikolai. “I couldn’t…I needed you. Growing up, I needed you.” “And you had me,” Nikolai says lowly.

“I didn’t give up my life,” Nikolai explains. “You’re a part of it, Timo. The good and the bad. You’re not keeping me from living, brother.”

Nikolai meets my gaze. “With her, and only with her, the dead in me is alive.”

“I couldn’t explain, for the longest time, why I wanted you near me,” he says. “I knew I was attracted to you, but it was more than that. Your energy, your idealism and optimism—I missed those things, the places inside of me that made me feel more

“And I realized,” he says lowly, “you are my Saturday nights. Being with you makes me come alive all over again.”

“You’re supposed to stare at me like I’m a devil, not a god.” Wittier words actually come to me, my face lighting before I say, “I think you’ve always been both.”

“Don’t love me more than your dreams, myshka. Because I love you too much to let you give them up for me.”

“Thora,” he says lowly, “I taught you that routine. For months, I’ve been teaching it to you.”

“Every day you’re on stage, prove them wrong.” I nod again, tears rolling. Prove them wrong. “That you deserved to be here from the start. That they made a mistake, that you and only you, Thora James, my little mouse…my demon—were meant for this role.”

Love isn’t a mistake. Neither is courage.

In a billion pieces at the way he stares at me. At how he holds my face, caringly, like the love of his life just ran into his arms. He whispers something in Russian that I know means: I love you.

he grasps me like it pains him to be away.

I trust this man. With my life. My heart. My soul.

“Here is my heart.” His thumb skims my neck. “It is full of love.”

“How do you describe the love of your life?” “If you could see yourself, you’d realize you just did.”

“But I’ve found the truest form of love,” he tells me. “It’s two loves that can live in harmony.” He looks down at me. I stare up at him. My heart on an ascent. “The circus and you,” he whispers, “amour amour.” Two loves. Two passions. At perfect balance. I finally feel it too.

A breath away, he whispers, “Every day.”

Every day, he chooses me.

When he sees me as I sit next to him, he lets out a short, humored laugh. “You’re beaming!” The crowds are so noisy that I barely distinguish the words. “I can’t believe you lost!” “You won!” he rephrases.

“Show me,” he says. “You don’t want to know first?” I question. He shakes his head. “I trust you.”

circus is family

It’s a dream that I’m living. Every day. With him.

“Twelve more years,” he rephrases, shaking my hand like we did it.