Page 74 of My Last Dance

THIRD PERIOD

14. REALITY

I awoke with a start, forgetting where I was for a second.

My eyes drifted around, taking in the wood-paneled walls, the extra twin beds with dark blue comforters, the old TV, and the hockey trophies and pictures scattered around the room. An overflowing suitcase full of guy clothes sat in the corner of the room.

Right.

Grand Prix.

Two months in Montreal.

Patrick quit.

My stolen purse.

My missed flight.

My old archnemesis taking pity on me and bringing me home…

Speaking of archnemeses…Kappy, who was actually comforting to me last night, was nowhere to be found.

There was something different about him last night. He seemed calmer, more introspective. I’d attribute the change to aging, but the two of us were arrested for our hot-headedness just a couple months ago. A person didn’t mature that quickly.

Rolling out of bed, I tiptoed across the cold floor and rummaged around in his suitcase for some socks and a hoodie. I hoped he wouldn’t mind, but I was currently freezing.

Stepping out of his room, I immediately heard voices floating from the kitchen, so I started that way.

“It’s just hard. I don’t want you to leave,” Teresa said in a teary voice. “Maybe I should move to Chicago. Just to make sure that—”

“No, Mom, all you have to do is relax,” Kappy said.

I froze up in the hallway, not wanting to intrude, but not knowing how to make an entrance.

“You just have to take care of yourself, this stress isn’t good for you. It’ll be fine, I promise,” Kappy reassured her.

“But it could—”

The floor creaked under my weight, and Kappy’s neck snapped to the side. Teresa sniffled up her tears and pushed away from her son. She braced her hands against the counter and breathed for a couple seconds before nodding to herself. When she lifted her head to face me, she tried her best to smile. “Good morning, Piper.” But her face slightly cracked. “Excuse me for a second, honey,” she forced out while bolting from the kitchen.

“Mom, don’t…” Kappy’s shoulders fell.

My eyes bounced between Teresa’s wake and her son. Avoiding eye contact with me, he picked up the spatula to take over the French toast his mom started.

“Everything okay?” I asked tentatively.

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forehead and braced himself on the kitchen counter, looking much larger than his frail mom who held that stance only seconds ago. “Life’s just stressful.” He rubbed his jaw. “As usual, right?”

“Right,” I agreed, wondering what kind of conversation I just interrupted. “We’re going back this morning?” My eyes darted to the hallway. “Did you need to stay longer? If you can get me an uber to the hotel, you wouldn’t even have to drive me to—”

He shook his head. “I have to get back. I have some training scheduled.”

My mouth gaped open. Because for the first time in my life, I couldn’t say the same. I didn’t have a single thing scheduled. I felt completely untethered.

He gave me a gentle grin, like he could read my mind. “Sometimes, you’re at a complete loss right before the best stuff happens. The world evens out like that.” His eyes roamed down my body and he stiffened. “That’s my favorite hoodie.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, want me to take it off?”

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