Page 37

After three more weeks of running through our intense schedule of ballet, yoga, lift workouts, and practice, it became clear that Kappy learned best by copying Patrick.

We decided our plan of action would be for Patrick and I to choreograph a program together, then Patrick would go step-by-step with Kappy, teaching him each element.

“I’ll choose the rhythm dance music, then you two can choose the free dance,” Patrick announced.

The rhythm dance, previously known as the short program, always had tight restrictions for the style and genre of music.

“What’re the rules this year?” I asked.

Patrick grinned. “It has to be seventies inspired.”

“Lame,” Kappy relented.

Patrick laughed. “Like I said, you can choose free dance, but I have the perfect idea for Team USA.”

I wish I felt as sure as he sounded, but this was the first time in years that I wasn’t confident on making Team USA.

Patrick swiped on his phone for a second before ABBA music blasted through the rink.

My neck snapped up to Patrick. “Yes! Oh my God! This is my dream! ”

Patrick smiled proudly at me. “I know.”

My mind started running through different choreography and costume possibilities. Patrick mashed together some of the best songs from Mamma Mia. The build of the last thirty seconds of the song was amazing.

Patrick and I both looked to Kappy. I secretly crossed my fingers, praying he’d be okay with it.

“What do you think?” Patrick asked hesitantly.

Kappy flipped his hair back. “I think she’s got her heart set. You should prolly start drawin’ up the plays, Coach.”

I practically threw myself at Kappy, hugging him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His face lit up with amusement, and I immediately pulled back, feeling stupid over my dramatics, but I couldn’t help it—this was my dream program music.

Patrick balled his fist in triumph. “Awesome. Be ready to start tomorrow, guys.” He hopped out of the teambox and started skating away, but right before leaving the ice, he called over his shoulder, “See you soon!”

My eyes went to Kappy. “What’s soon?”

“Trivia.” He grinned.

I’d forgotten the two of them did that. But it suddenly made sense. He was always gone on Wednesday nights, and I never worked up the courage to ask him where he went.

“Wanna come?”

“Oh.” I blinked at his muscular back while he gathered his water bottle and zip-up from the boards. Getting an invite from anyone other than Mer felt foreign. “S-sure, I guess so,” I stammered out.

“Perfect.” But then his easy smile fell from his lips. “No distracting us, though. We’re winners, P.”

“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.

________ _

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 an NHL 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.”

My shoulders loosened. I guess he was right. I slowly turned back around, only to gasp. “I have not seen that before!” I pointed at his thigh.

“Oh, really?” His eyebrows popped up. “I thought you had.”

My brain practically short-circuited as I stood stock-still, blinking at his thigh.

“You like it?” His lips did a funny dance, like he was trying hard to stop grinning.

He had a thigh tattoo.

Of a snake wrapped around his upper leg.

“Why do you have a snake tattoo?” I whispered.

“It’s not a snake. It’s a viper.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Well, I guess a viper is a snake, but you know what I mean.”

The world seemed to stop spinning for me, but he casually stepped into some joggers and jumped a little to pull them up. He strolled toward me with command, right into my personal space, making my breath seize up in my chest.

Over the past few weeks, we’d been close to each other hundreds of times. We touched, we caressed, we stared into each other’s eyes.

But only when instructed.

He reached out and smoothed my cheeks with both hands, and it felt like he was breaking some kind of invisible barrier between us.

My heart hammered so hard in my chest that I was convinced he could hear it as he stared down at me with intent amusement.

“Piper, I—”

His phone rang, cutting him off. His eyes fell closed and his nose flared with a frustrated breath. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped away, and I wanted to cry out. I desperately wanted to know what he was going to say, what he was going to do.

I felt more cheated at that moment than I did at the Grand Prix.

“I’m never here anyway.” He gestured to his studio as he answered his phone. “And I like saving money.”

That was a lame thing to say and we both knew it. He was not going to talk about the apartment while caressing my head . I knew deep in my bones that he was going to say something else, something important, and I wanted those words.

“Yeah,” he spoke into his phone while his brown gaze seared into me. He grinned. “Yeah, we’ll be right there.”

He rustled around in his drawer for a minute before pulling out another hoodie. “If you wanna be more comfortable.” He tossed me the hoodie. “And I wouldn’t mind you changing in front of me.” He winked before turning his attention back to his phone.

I stared at him for a beat.

Because I just watched him change from Richard to Kappy mode.

But this time, it wasn’t for the others.

He put a mask on with me.

A mixture of longing and hurt settled deep in my chest.

And I couldn’t deny it any longer.

I missed my Richard.

And I wanted him back .

“Thanks,” I forced out as I threw on his hoodie, secretly cherishing the bonfire scent that wrapped around me like a warm blanket of nostalgia.

_________

“You guys think about your free dance music yet?” Patrick asked as soon as we walked up the sidewalk to the bar.

“Nope.” Kappy popped the p .

“It’s been, like, two seconds since we left practice, Patrick.” His future students were lucky because his mind was constantly circling the rules.

He grabbed the door and held it open for us. “Fair. Keep your ears open tonight during music trivia for some potential songs.”