“It wasn’t, no. In spite of that, things were good. I traveled the world and continued to do what I loved. My life was for dancing and for Rennie. I didn’t have time for anything else.

“In the meantime, my brother and Ken dragged each other down. Both of them overdosed a few times, until Matty couldn’t survive anymore. After that Ken went on a binge and did eighteen months for breaking into my house, and I moved into a building with a doorman.”

Elise got up and poured herself a glass of wine. She’d never told this story before. Her parents knew because they’d been there, but she’d only spoken to the police with the details. Her hands shook slightly from the adrenaline and emotion of the story and of the telling.

Erin cleared her throat. “You don’t have to talk about it anymore. I know how hard it is to tell it. But I have to say, I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I shared it.”

“It’s . . . gah! Two months after he got out of prison, he broke into my building, killed the doorman and stole the master key. He got into my apartment and held me there for three hours. He beat me, threatened to kill me, raped me. The only thing that kept me from giving up was that Rennie was due home and I was sure he’d kill us all. So I managed to move enough to grab a nearby umbrella from the stand in the foyer and I hit him with it. I was . . . It was stupid, I don’t know why I didn’t try for something else, but he was blocking my way and I couldn’t stand. It surprised him. He moved to backhand me, but the gun fell from his pocket, along with his rig—the gear he used to shoot cocaine with and his pipe for smoking it, all that lovely stuff. He was a junkie, so he grabbed for the rig, forgetting the gun. But I didn’t. I went for it. I didn’t think, I just pointed and shot. I hit him in the head, a total fluke. About a minute later the cops burst in and they took me to the hospital and Ken to the morgue.”

“Oh dear god.” Erin rubbed her hands quickly up and down her arms.

“I wasn’t charged with anything. He’d beaten me so badly it was pretty clear it had been self-defense. He broke my leg in three places. My right leg. He knew what he was doing.”

“Ended your career.”

Elise nodded. “Then over the next year and a half, his parents dragged me through the courts, trying to take Rennie. Threatening to harm my parents professionally and financially. They’re stupid rich. And they blame me for their son’s death. Technically they’re correct. I am to blame. It took eighteen months total to deal with the break-in, my recovery, the court bullshit and leaving the NBT permanently. The day after I learned I’d not only won full custody but limited their contact with her to once a month via phone, I packed our new minivan with our clothes and some food, a moving truck came to our apartment to pick up the last boxes of things we wanted to keep, and we came here.”

“And look at you now. I admire you. I know what it’s like to have to go through all this legal stuff. It’s draining and frustrating. I can’t even imagine what a custody battle must have been like.”

“Not much to admire really. My child has a dead parent and the other one is a murderer. I’m the reason she had to have play therapy for a few years. She had very little exposure to him over her life, but she did have exposure to his parents. I wanted her to have a relationship with them, and it ended up upsetting her. I caused it. I can’t erase my mistakes or I’d be erasing her. But they’re my mistakes, no way to deny it.”

“You’re not a murderer. You reacted to protect yourself and your kid. You’re a damned good mother. Your parents love her and they’ll be around for her. We’re all here for her. For you.”

Rather than cry, she managed a nod of thanks. “Now you know my story.”

“And you know mine. And, I have to say, we are two strong chicks.” Erin smiled. “We’re survivors, Elise. Two f**king thumbs up for surviving.”

“Amen, sister.”

“You should share this with Brody. When you’re ready, of course. He cares about you.”

Elise nodded. “I know. I’m just . . . ashamed. Ashamed that I’ve made so many mistakes. It’s vain, I know. But I don’t want him to think less of me.”

“Why would he? It’s a horrible thing, but you’re not at fault here. You didn’t do any of this. You reacted to a host of things to survive. To save your kid. You did the right thing, Elise.”

“I have failed a lot of people. I’m not enough, never enough. Couldn’t save my brother and I murdered the father of my child. I dance well and, all things considered, I’m a good enough mother. But I’m a f**king washed-up failure at most of life, Erin. You’re a survivor. You’re strong and capable. I spend too much time reacting and pushing away my anger and resentment. I’m not good. I’m not strong. I’m just hanging on because Rennie needs it.”

“Shut up. Seriously, girl, shut the f**k up. Hanging on? Coming out here and starting your life over. Doing it in a way that enables you to be with your kid while still doing what you love, that’s not ‘just hanging on.’ Can you really not see how strong you are? How successful and accomplished? How hard you work to make a better life for yourself and Rennie?”

“I just don’t see it that way. But thanks for saying it anyway.”

16

Erin had grown very close to Elise over the last eight months, and hearing that story at long last was illuminating. She knew there was tragedy, but the whole of it was huge. Brody had lucked out with this woman. She’d be a real partner when they both just finally admitted they were in love with each other.