Page 110 of My Last Dance

A knot lodged in my throat. I couldn’t lie to him, but I didn’t want to tell him either. Turns out, I didn’t have to. Cursing under his breath, he skated off to the boards.

“Patrick, she’s in pain, we need to stop for the day.”

Patrick eyed me warily. “How bad is it?”

“What?” Kappy snapped. “It doesn’t matter how bad. She’s in pain.” He shook his head at me. “I’m not doing this if it’s hurting you.”

“Stoppingwould be hurting me,” I said quietly.

“Shouldn’t she see a doctor?” he asked Patrick.

Patrick rubbed his jaw in thought.

“They’ll just tell me what I already know,” I said softly.

“Which is?” I asked impatiently.

“That I need to stop skating or I’ll end up having to get another surgery.”

He blanched. “Fuck, Piper. No, we’re not doing this.”

“Please,” I begged, skating right up to him. “We didn’t work this hard to turn back. Please.” I laid my forehead on his chest and could feel his heart beating wildly. “I’m okay, don’t worry,” I tried to soothe.

His gloved hand gently brushed down my hair. “Okay, fine.” He blew out a frustrated breath.

“Thank you,” I breathed out.

“But you’re taking it easy as much as possible, got it? Or I quit.”

“Okay.” I nodded hurriedly.

“I’m serious.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “You have to play by my rules.”

Taking his hand, I smoothed backwards, dragging him back out to center ice with a grin.

That day, after unlacing our skates, he slung a Whalers hat over his hair and knelt in front of me.

“What are you doing?”

He eyed me over his shoulder. “Piggyback ride.”

“What? No.” I laughed, but my heart warmed a little over how much he cared. “I’m fine.”

He cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “My rules, Viper. This isn’t an offer, it’s an order.” He grinned. “Now c’mon.”

Rolling my eyes, I climbed onto his back and his strong hands looped under my thighs.

“I think you just like giving me piggyback rides,” I said sullenly, but my body relaxed against him.

He laughed. “You might be right,” he said, and I secretly cherished hearing the smile in his voice.

22. SECTIONALS

“Skaters, you have one minute remaining in warm-up,” the announcer’s voice echoed in the 3,000-seat stadium used for Sectionals.

Kappy’s breathing went a little ragged. I knew that feeling. Between cramming in as much as possible and the heightened nerves, warm-ups usually winded me as well.

“You good?” I asked, gliding beside him.

---