Page 103 of My Last Dance

I laughed. “Well, yeah, maybe, but you wear it really well,” I said with a grin, and I really appreciated him wearing it. “Thank you.”

His eyes softened. “Piper, you—”

“All right.” Patrick interrupted us, and I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration. “This is just Regionals. It’s low stakes. I’ve scoped out the other teams, and you’ll blow them away. Think of this as just a first run to get all the mistakes out, yeah?”

We both nodded.

“How about you two go over some lifts, and then I’ll—”

“Patrick Greene, is that you?” someone called out.

Patrick whipped around to see a group of millennial coaches. “Hey!”

“C’mere, man!” a guy called out.

He turned to us with a questioning look.

“Go,” I said, shooing him away with my hands. “You’ve prepared us within an inch of our lives, we’ve got this.”

Kappy reached out to do a bro handshake. “Yeah, we’re good, man,” he said, slapping Patrick on the back.

With Patrick walking away, Kappy and I silently marked our program in our tennis shoes.

After our first lift, he set me back on the ground and a familiar shock of pain shot up my leg, making my knee slightly buckle.

“Water break,” I murmured, trying to hide the pain as I reached for my water bottle.

A second later, Kappy grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. He waited for a gaggle of teen girls to pass before he whispered, “What was that?”

“Huh?” I kept my eyes away from him.

His rough fingers went to my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay?” His brown eyes seared into me, searching for the truth.

“Yeah, why?” I swallowed hard.

“Piper.” He said my name like a warning.

“I’m okay, I swear. It was just a tweak.” I tried to walk past him, but his large hand clamped my waist and gently pushed me to the wall.

His whole face was tense, but his large hand gently traced my hair line, making me shiver. He looked around once more to make sure no one was listening. “Piper, I’m not skating if it’s hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” My hand went to his chest, and I could feel his rapid heartbeats. “I just tweaked it. I’ll tell you if it gets worse.”

He held my gaze. “You promise?”

“Yes, I promise. We’ve got this. I can feel it.”

________

I could tell he was nervous during our five-minute warm-up. His muscles were tight and his movements were jumpy.

When the announcer boomed, “Skaters, you have one minute remaining in your warm-up,” he swore under his breath.

“Five minutes is kinda cruel, eh?” he asked in a shaky voice. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm down.

“It’s okay,” I said as soothingly as I could. “We don’t even need these five minutes. We’re prepared.”

He nodded, but I’m not sure if he was even paying attention to my words.

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