Page 93 of My Last Dance

“So I’ve heard.” I bit back a chuckle. “When is it?”

He squinted at the clock at the back of the rink “Half hour.”

My gaze dropped to my leggings, sports bra, and zip up. My sweaty hair was pulled back in a bun and starting to give me a headache. “But I need to change. I’m not ready.”

Kappy shrugged. “We’ll stop by my place and grab ya something.”

I started to argue but bit my tongue. My need for comfort was outweighed by my curiosity. I wanted this little insight into Kappy’s life.

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Squinting ahead, I spotted O’Callahan’s, the Irish bar that hosted trivia. Even though it was a Wednesday, the little patio area of the bar was already crowded with people. One thing about Chicagoans was that they took advantage of every single sunny day, even if it fell in the middle of the work week.

“I thought you said we’re stopping by your place first?” I asked.

“We are.” He pulled his truck to the side and parked right next to the Irish pub. Taking a baseball cap out of his truck console, he pulled it low over his head and shoved his truck door open. “C’mon, we better hurry or Patty Boy’s gonna be mad.”

Feeling confused, I jumped down from his truck and fell into step behind him as his long stride carried him to the old brick townhouse, which was wedged between the Irish pub and an old-time barber shop.

Following him up the cement steps, he unlocked the painted purple door. As soon as we entered the clean hallway, the sounds of music and the rambunctious crowd from the bar next door completely faded.

He walked to the stairs at the back of the hallway and made his way to the wooden door at the front of the building. Unlocking it, he stood aside to let me in.

Smoothing past him, his laundry and woodsy scent overwhelmed me, reminding me of his mom’s house.

Sunbeams from the fading day lit up the cramped, dusty old studio apartment. His bed, adorned with a fading navy bedspread, was practically in the tiny kitchenette. The only decor on the walls were a couple sports flags. Even though Kappy was a full decade past college, the studio resembled a guys’ dorm room.

Kappy started rifling through the wooden dresser shoved up against the wall.

“Didn’t you sign a huge contract?” I studied the lone picture frame capturing an image of the three guys with a baby Lucy.

Kappy’s lips twisted with amusement. “Yes, my contract was decent. Why do you ask?”

My face flushed. I didn’t want to insult him, but I just figured anNHL player would be living in a sizable apartment. Colt owned a beautiful modern farmhouse in the suburbs just north of the city. JP lived in a sprawling condo with exposed brick and a gorgeous porch overlooking West Loop. And…Kappy chose to live in the tiniest studio I’d ever seen.

He threw off his hat and scratched his head distractedly. “Colt and I used to room together in a nicer apartment downtown ‘til Lucy was born. After that, Colt needed help. The dude was drowning in dirty diapers and grief over Lucy’s mom. So, JP and I basically moved in with him. I was still kinda living there ‘til uh…” he trailed off.

“Until Mer moved in?” I finished for him.

“Uh, yeah.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but I felt a swift and sudden urge to give him a hug.

He pulled off his dirty shirt and threw it to the floor. His muscles rippled as he tugged on a new shirt, and I felt a pull to move closer, to study the tattoos on his arm and chest that I’d only gotten small glimpses of over the past few weeks.

“I don’t care or anything. I’m not, like, jealous.” He smirked. “I’m happy for them. But…” He sighed and searched around for his hat. “Sometimes it does kinda feel like…”

“Like you’re left behind,” I whispered.

He stopped moving and stared at me. “Yeah, you ever feel that?”

Yes.

“I–”

He shoved his pants down without warning.

“What the hell?” I shrieked and whirled around to face his wall.

He just laughed. “I have boxers on, Piper. Besides, nothing you haven’t seen before.”

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