Page 79 of My Last Dance

I’m not sure how I’d be able to hide all of that.

Then again, let’s be real, we wouldn’t even get to that point.

He’d most likely try out one practice, realize how hard ice dance actually is, and then leave with a newfound respect for my sport.

Besides, if I canceled, he’d pester me about it until the end of time.

Hehad to be the one to come to his senses and call it quits.

And he would quit. I was sure of it.

And that is how I found myself sneaking into the empty rink before sunrise—because there’s no way I wanted an audience for this ridiculous proposition.

But as soon as I shoved into the rink, my jaw dropped.

I gaped at Kappy. “I thought you said it was gonna be just the two of us?” My eyes bounced between Kappy, who was wearing slim black joggers and an athletic quarter zip, and Hans, who stood next to him with a proud grin.

“Yeah, the two of us, and Hans.” He jerked his thumb at the old man. “And…” Kappy winced.

“Oh my God!” I covered my eyes. “Who else did you tell?”

“Our coach.” He smiled proudly.

I dropped my skate bag on the lobby floor. “What? What coach? How did you even—”

“Morning, friends!”

I spun around to see Patrick gliding into the rink, his ginger hair neatly gelled back, wearing a Team USA puffer coat, and carrying his skate bag and a clipboard.

Anger coursed through my veins and erupted out of my mouth. “You can’t skate with me, but you’ll coach me?”

“Yes,” Patrick said without missing a beat. “I can’t take the mental toll of competing, but I actually want to coach, Piper, you know this.”

“I think I can see the steam coming out of her ears,” Kappy murmured to Hans.

I practically growled at him before turning back to my old partner. “Patrick, you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He gave me a wink. “There’s no way I’ll have a shot at coaching a team to the Olympics for another eight or so years, why not give this a last-ditch effort?”

Speechless. I was speechless.

“Let the man decide for himself, P,” Kappy said.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed and smiled triumphantly. “I already like this.”

“And I already hate it!” I stomped my foot. “You two are just going to team up on me every chance you get.”

Patrick and Kappy glanced at each other and both grinned.

“No. I’m not doing this.” I turned and stomped back to the entrance of the rink, but I only made it a few steps before a strong arm looped around my waist and lifted me.

“Look! Our first lift,” Kappy proudly announced to the guys. Then he whispered to me, “You promised me a practice.”

“Ugh!” I shoved out of his arms. “Fine. One practice.” I glared at him.

“Okay, let’s go over some ground rules,” Patrick announced. He hiked one foot up on the bench and balanced the clipboard on his thigh.

“This is never going to work,” I muttered.

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