Page 52 of My Last Dance

Rolling my eyes, I skated over to the music box. Sifting through the random burned CD’s, I found what I was looking for and grinned.

A second later, the Mamma Mia soundtrack blasted through the rink speakers.

“For the love of God! ABBA?” he called out, throwing his arms up. “This is worse!”

I cackled. “This is my favorite! Get to work, Richard! This ice is for winners. If you’re not gonna skate, then get off.” I jutted my chin to the entrance and held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t actually leave.

With drooping shoulders, he turned and went into another puckdrill, making the tension ease in my chest. He wasn’t skating with his usual exhilaration, but at least he was here, getting time on the ice.

When I skated to the boards for a water break, Kappy stopped on his side of the ice and leaned his chin on the butt of his stick. “You know this is pointless, right? I tried my hardest, played my best.” A muscle in his jaw fluttered. “They didn’t want me, Piper.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said simply, setting my water down.

His face cracked in frustration. “How can you say—”

“I believe you tried your hardest,” I said, cutting him off, “but you didnotplay your best. You were playing with hesitation.”

His eyes flared with anger. “You only watched one game, how can you—”

“Don’t argue,” I snapped, making him close his mouth. “Were you nervous?”

His face fell. “Well, yeah, but—”

“It showed.” If no one else was going to tell him the truth, I would. “They wanted you for the player you were back at Centre Ice, but when you showed up in Hamilton, you changed your playing style. You were known for blowing up guys in the corners—I should know, because it always scared me. But at the game I went to, you didn’t throw a single check. And you never once fought for the puck on your own. When you were finally thrown a pass, you just dumped it. What was that, Richard?”

“That’s fucking harsh, Piper,” he said, glaring at me. “Fine, I get it, I suck. Why should I—”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’tsuck, you just didn’t show them the real you.”

He shook his head. “What can I say? I fucked up. There’s no going back, so just drop it.”

“No, there isn’t,” I agreed. “You need to move forward. This isn’t over, not yet. You still have a chance to come back from this.”

He rolled his lips together. “You don’t need to lie just to make me feel better.”

A humorless laugh flew out of me. “If I was going to lie, would I have said all that to you?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth.

“You need to improve and be even better than you were back at Centre Ice.”

“How?” he whispered. His eyes darted to mine, like he was afraid to ask, but inside, I was practically collapsing with relief.That one word, that one question, showed that he still had a little fight in him. I could work with that.

“You need to think like a figure skater. Quicker feet, but slow your mind down. Two different speeds. You can’t get all riled up and just dump the puck in panic. You need to slow your mind down and think through what you’re doing. Take that one extra split second.”

His gaze dropped to the ice.

“Okay?” I pushed.

“Yeah.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. “I’m sorry for…” he trailed off and eyed me nervously.

“For cutting me out and ignoring me for months?”

His eyes fell to the ice and his cheeks pinked up a little. I already forgave him, but he didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

I cleared my throat. “We can switch who controls the aux cord every other day. Now, get moving.” I skated away before he could say anything else.

But it seemed like that little talk lit a fire under his butt because he finally started skating with some effort.

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