Page 127 of My Last Dance

I banged on his door for what felt like five full minutes before he finally propped it open. He rubbed his sleepy eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Richard?” I snapped.

“Kappy?” He scrubbed a hand over his messy ginger hair and tried to focus his eyes.

“Yes, where is he?” I demanded impatiently.

He squinted at me. “Isn’t he with you?”

“No,” I said desperately.

My mind raced to the worst scenarios.What if his heart stopped? What if he was at the hospital? What if he wasn’t okay? Oh God, how could I have fallen asleep?

“He came back after the docs looked him over, told me he was going to check on you,” Patrick said. “Let me get my phone.”

My knees buckled with relief as Patrick dipped back into his room.

But while I waited for him, another dose of anxiety shot straight to my heart. Because there was only one other possibility: What if Richard was going ghost mode on me again?

No.

I shook my head.

That just wasn’t acceptable.

I wasn’t my naive twenty-one-year-old-self with terrible communication skills anymore. I wouldnotlet that happen again.

Patrick’s eyebrows tugged together as he read his phone. “I don’t understand this text. Do you?”

The text on his phone from Richard read:They moved up the demolition. I’m going. Sorry. I need to.

My eyes flew up to Patrick’s. “I’m leaving.” Turning on my heel, I started back to my room.

“Whoa, wait,” Patrick said, tugging on a shirt and chasing down the hall after me.

Back in my room, I started throwing my suitcase together as quickly as possible.How the hell did I make such a mess in such a short span of time?

“You’re really leaving? What about the closing ceremony?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

“Don’t care.”

Patrick shook his head. “All right, want me to book you a flight back to Chicago?”

“No.” I knew where he was going, and it wasn’t to Chicago. If I left now, I’d only be an hour or two behind him. “Book it forDetroit.”

He scrolled on his phone while I grabbed everything out of the bathroom.

“Flight is booked and sent to your phone.” He rolled off the bed and stretched his back. “But what about the Gala?”

“I don’t know. You skate for us,” I said, yanking my suitcase off the floor. “I’ll see you at home.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You two are giant pains in the ass, you know that, right?”

“I know, but you love us anyway.” I pulled him in for a quick hug.

“I do.” He squeezed me. “Be safe, P.”

With a nod, I tore out of the hotel room. And to be honest, I was glad we weren’t skating in the show. I wanted our perfect Free Dance to stand as my last dance.

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