Rylie took a seat on the sofa, sinking into the cushion so far, she wondered if she’d ever get out. No room for Michael. She figured he’d see that, and her predicament, as she shifted to pull herself out of the abyss, when without notice, he moved to the side of the couch and lowered himself in, saying, “So you’re a dancer, huh?”
He didn’t even seem to notice that they were now both sinking into the center of the sofa, their thighs pressed uncomfortably together.
“Yeah, I was in the Tucson Ballet for a few years, but then I retired to come up here and start my own studio,” she said dismissively. “My therapist says I should keep busy. Try to forget. But I might as well talk about him, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to forget. Not my little brother.”
“You were close, huh?” Mi
