“Nah, it’s like riding a bike.” Jevon closed Joe’s precious photo album and carefully set it aside. “Let’s go try.”
“Now?” Angelo blinked in surprise.
“Where?” Joe said at the same time. “Harry will do his nut if one of you breaks your neck.”
“Let’s go to the clinic,” Angelo said. “There’s mats in there, and I have the keys in my pocket.”
Joe sighed. “Jesus Christ. Okay then, but I’m bringing my beer, so don’t get all sanctimonious and healthy on me as soon as we step over the dark side.”
It was a running joke that Joe rarely set foot inside Harry’s recovery clinic. He brought horses to the exercise yard for balance therapy and fetched and carried anything Harry needed, painted walls, and mended fences, but the mindfulness-themed indoor space pressed his rebel buttons, and it had been collectively decided it was best if he stayed outside.
And no one suited the outdoor life more than Joe.
They left the house and tramped across the farm to Harry’s clinic. The exterior security system lit up as they approached, and Angelo unlocked the doors. Inside, he flicked more lights on and pointed to the exercise mats stacked up in the corner. “You can use those if you want.”
Jevon laughed and kicked off his shoes. “Okay, mate.”
Like he needed them. Jevon threw himself across the room in a series of flips and somersaults, and Angelo was fucking mesmerised. He’d seen some acrobats in his time, but something in Jevon’s tumbling set him apart. There was perfection in the flaws, and Angelo’s limbs itched with grief. He’d never had Jevon’s skills, but he’d had his own.
Jevon came to a nimble stop in front of Angelo. “Your turn.”
“Piss off.”
“Nope. I can see it burning up inside you. Just move, man. Don’t think about it so much.”
“You don’t understand.” In Angelo’s peripheral vision, Joe slouched on a bench—Joe who had scraped him off the floor and held his hand when Dylan and Harry hadn’t been around. Joe who had no real idea of what Angelo’s body had once been capable of. “I can’t move like that anymore.”
“But you can cartwheel? Walk on your hands?”
“Maybe—”
Jevon gripped Angelo’s face in a way that might’ve been hot in other circumstances. “You know the difference between your physical limits and the roadblocks you’ve set up in your mind. Try it.”
Even before ME, Angelo knew better than to throw himself into acrobatics without warming up. He escaped Jevon’s encouraging grip and retreated to a treadmill at the back of the room, thankful he’d nursed the beer Jevon had given him while they’d cooked.
Running was among his least favourite things to do but warmed him up fast. A few gentle stretches later and he was ready to go, much to Joe’s obvious amusement.
“You’re fucking nuts.”
“It’s no crazier than galloping on that mad stallion,” Angelo retorted.
“If you say so.” Joe drank more beer and reclined on the bench until he was pretty much horizontal.
Angelo ignored him and considered the mats in the corner, but a rush of recklessness let him ignore them too. He eased his body into a slow cartwheel. His shoulders piped up a half-hearted protest, but Angelo was stronger than that. He rotated again and again until he was upright on the other side of the room.
Jevon nodded his approval. “Nice. You’ve got that dancer elegance, man. Don’t you think so, Joe?”
Joe grunted, but his gaze was keen. “Do something else.”
Angelo walked the perimeter of the room on his hands, then eased into a backwards walkover. His joints creaked and his muscles shook, but there was fluidity there—promise... hope. He shook his head as he came upright. “Wow. I haven’t even thought about doing that in years.”
“Throw some ballet shapes,” Joe called out.
Angelo gave him the finger but accepted the challenge, taking care to heed everything he’d learned about testing his body since Harry had set his life back on track. His legs lacked the spring they’d once had—the agility that clearly overflowed in Jevon—but despite the fatigue and pain, the natural flexibility he’d fought so hard to remember was still there.
Energy zinged through Angelo’s veins. He spun and leapt around the room until his lungs gave up on him and he collapsed at Joe’s feet.
Only then did he notice the new face in the room—Dylan, naturally, his sunny grin a mile wide, eclipsing the angst they were both dragging around right now. “I’ve never seen you dance like that before.”