She was in a black leotard that had swathes of material crossed over her breasts, a mock turtleneck, exposed shoulders but gathered material tight down her upper arms to her wrists. The back was exposed except for a narrow band along the middle. Some parts of the bodysuit were sheer, and there was a filmy skirt that went to her knees and floated around her.

Her pointe shoes were red.

The beat of the song was fast, Axl had no idea how she kept up, arms out, heels down and crossed, up on pointe, down, up, down, and again, again, again.

But before Bono shared he wants to run, she swept her leg around and up nearly to her nose before it came down.

She turned and took only two steps before she was soaring again.

Back arched at an impossible angle, arms up and graceful, front leg straight, back leg in a curve cutting through the air like it had weight, holding her up.

And she could fly forever.

Christ.

It slowed down a bit then, and she used the entire stage, interpreting the song with every inch of her body, the room dark, the only light following her.

Turns and leaps and all sorts of shit he had no idea what it was called.

And it didn’t matter.

There was only one word for it, really.

Beauty.

She started looking at him at “poison rain.”

And like it was when she danced for him before, he got her message immediately.

This was their song.

He was her shelter.

His throat closed.

At the end of the song, after another leap, she did pirouette after pirouette after pirouette as the light faded.

And then there was black.

The packed room was utterly silent.

And then it exploded.

The light came on again for Hattie to take her bow.

And she was looking at him.

Axl smiled at his woman.

And she smiled back.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Deviled Eggs

Axl

They came in the back door and Cleo was right there to share how she felt about whatever she was feeling.

Cleo didn’t get the chance.

Hattie launched in.

“Get this, Sleekmeister General. My mother is dating a dude named Shiloh. He carves logs for a living and reeks of pot.”

Cleo assumed her disapproving face, though, it had to be said, that was her normal resting expression. It had just been temporarily replaced by her “What the Fuck Are You Two Doing Interrupting My Naptime” face.

“I know,” Hattie agreed.

“Honey,” Axl said, his voice shaking.

She whirled on him.

“You think this is funny?” she demanded.

“A little,” he lied.

It wasn’t a little funny.

It was hilarious.

Her head cocked dangerously and Axl tried to focus on that rather than her gorgeous curls moving with it.