She could have been describing Quincy’s childhood, and it made him sick to think about her growing up in that situation.

“I dreamed of being onstage, telling stories through dance. I wanted to be the best contemporary dance soloist, to suck people into the story and make them think and feel things they never had. I lived to dance. It’s all I ever wanted. Well, that and to make my grandmother and Elisa proud. I would have done anything to achieve it, and I made it, Quincy,” she said with pride and tears in her eyes. “I got accepted into Juilliard, and I worked my butt off and achieved the impossible. Me. I was just a girl with a dream from a poor neighborhood, raised by her grandmother. I beat the odds, and I was so proud of myself. After graduation I got a job with a great dance company. I was on top of the world, and I came home to celebrate with Gram. She was on top of the world too, so proud of me she couldn’t stop talking about it. We were going to make apple pie. She stayed home to cut up the apples, and I walked a few blocks to the store to get the rest of the ingredients. The streets south of where we lived were really bad, but north, where the store was, wasn’t that bad, and we always walked when we could.” She squeezed his hand, staring absently at the floor, and said, “I was on my way back from the store when I heard gunshots—poppoppop—real fast, seconds before the car slammed into me, and then everything went black.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Quincy’s heart shattered. “Jesus, baby.” Sadness engulfed him. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight.

“I got dragged by the car. The pavement tore right through my clothes. I had to get skin grafts on my left hip and thigh. I fractured my hip, broke my leg, my foot, a few ribs, and shattered my dreams, all in the blink of an eye.”

“No,” he choked out, not wanting to believe it.

She swiped at her tears and said, “I was messed up for a long time. I moved back in with Gram while I healed and went through physical therapy and rehab, and when I was well enough, Elisa hired me as a receptionist, and she allowed me to work on my range of motion and strength at the studio before and after work. Eventually I healed enough to teach, and Elisa offered me the apartment upstairs. I didn’t want to leave Gram, but she basically kicked me out. I think she felt guilty. I tried to get her to move in with me, but she refused.”

“Christ, Roni. You’ve been through so much. I’m sure she felt guilty, but it wasn’t her fault. She did what she could so you would have a chance at a better future.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked.

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you.” He kissed her temple, rubbing his hand soothingly down her back. “I wish I could take all that pain away and wipe your memory clean, so you’d never think about it again. What happened to the guy who hit you? Did he go to jail? Was he high? Drunk?”