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Back in Chicago, he followed through with his promise and went to the hospital. Thanks to the Whalers’ medical team, he was able to see specialists right away. But I don’t think he was paying a single speck of attention to anything the doctors were telling him.

When the doctors diagnosed him with Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Cardiomyopathy, he didn’t even respond.

When they voiced their concerns about the tissue and scarring around his heart, and that they were shocked he was able to play hockey in his condition, he just shrugged.

They wanted him to have surgery to place an ICD, which wouldn’t solve the issue, but it would act as a last line of defense— like an airbag in a car accident—if his heart failed. He denied the surgery, saying the recovery period would make him miss the Olympics.

At his mention of the Olympics, the doctors made eye contact with each other, silently communicating.

A middle-aged woman doctor finally spoke up. “We recommend you avoid stressful events and strenuous activity, Mr. Kappers.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Do you?” the woman asked gently. “You can’t participate in sports with this condition, Mr. Kappers. ”

He stared straight at me, face void of emotion. “Wanna grab food?”

My eyes darted around the room, from Richard, to the confused medical staff, to his chest. “B-but he’ll be okay, right? If he doesn’t play sports?”

“Mr. Kappers still needs more tests. Looking at these initial scans, he’s definitely a candidate for a catheter ablation.

” She started pointing out things on his scan that I struggled to comprehend.

“But to answer your question, yes, many people with this condition can lead normal lives, so long as they stay on the recommended protocol and avoid strenuous exercise.”

Kappy slid off the exam table and shouldered on his Carhartt jacket. He gave a polite nod to the staff before throwing the door open and tearing out of the room.

I struggled to keep up with his pace through the hospital hallways, and I followed him in silence as he walked across the snowy parking lot.

As soon as we sat in his truck, he cranked the heat, and we both sat in silence for a minute, letting the shock of the appointment set in.

“You need to get that ICD surgery,” I said. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “We might not even be going to the Olympics,” I added.

I honestly hoped the US Figure Skating board would deny Patrick’s appeal about the failed drug test at Nationals.

Patrick already submitted Kappy’s medical records, and he seemed confident that the board would rule in our favor, especially seeing as the pill that Richard took was necessary, given his condition.

Patrick also promised the board that Richard would find other suitable measures for the Olympics.

I was just doubtful that other suitable measures even existed.

“We’re going,” Kappy said with determination, throwing his truck in reverse to leave the parking lot. “You wanted me to go in, I went in.”

“But you’re not doing what they said,” I argued. “I won’t skate with you.” I stubbornly crossed my arms.

“Yes, you will,” he gruffed.

“No, I won’t.” I racked my brain for reasons to quit. “What if my legs hurt?”

He pulled to a stop at the red light and leveled me with a glare. “Then I will give you a piggyback ride to the damn podium.”

“Oh my God,” I quietly cried. “I let you carry me.” I covered my face. He was doing so many things he had no business doing over these past months.

“And this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he said with a sigh. He held out his hand on his truck’s center console. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being a dick,” I said, but I still interlocked my fingers with his.

He rolled his eyes.

“Eye rolling is for me.”

His lips twitched. “You can’t call eye rolling, Viper.”

“Yes, I can, and I did.”

Taking in a deep breath, his shoulders deflated. “Can we call a truce for tonight? I’m really tired, and I don’t want to argue about this anymore.”

At that moment, I think I would have agreed to anything he asked just to make him feel better. “Truce.”

After picking up take-out dinner, he wordlessly flipped on a scary movie. He hated scary movies, so I knew this choice was only for me.

“I don’t want to watch this,” I said quietly, taking the clicker from him. My eyes started burning while I flipped through the channels. I’d never watch another scary movie for as long as I lived because I was terrified of scaring him and stressing out his heart.

His face fell. “Piper…”

“Huh? What?” I asked, trying my best to feign indifference and swallow down my fear for the night.

I could tell he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent.

After choosing a romcom, we settled into the couch. With his arm looped around my waist, I was able to relax for the first time in what felt like forever because I could feel his steady heartbeat against my back.

I was almost asleep when both of our phones went off.

He reached for his phone. “It’s Patrick. The board made a decision.”

Too scared to look at him or my phone, I held my breath.

“We’re going to the Olympics,” he said with a determined voice, tossing his phone back down.

My chest caved in.

I never thought that sentence would make me upset .

But I was devastated.

Turning in his arms, I studied his face in the glow from the TV. My hand went to his scruffy cheek. “I’m scared.”

His hand laid overtop of mine. “We’ll come up with a plan, I promise, baby. We’ll make it work, and we’ll win.”

Tears filled my eyes.

He looked alarmed. “Are you crying?”

“Yes, I am.” I nodded, fully admitting it for the first time in my life. “You need that surgery.”

His face softened before he tucked my head under his chin. “I’ll get it.”

I pulled back to look at him and nodded hurriedly. “Okay.”

He gently cleared my tears with his thumb. “ After we compete.” He kissed my forehead. “I just want to dance with you.”

_________

We had two weeks to practice until we flew to Italy for the opening of the Winter Olympic Games. I didn’t want to skate at all, but thanks to the Whalers’ owner, Mrs. Greenwich, who was apparently rooting for us, we suddenly had a small team of people at the rink helping us to perfect a plan.

Our best option was for Kappy to skate with a small ECG monitor taped to his chest, which was studied in real-time by a medic sitting on the bench.

If he had an arrhythmia while skating, the monitor would beep, and we would stop skating.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was the best they could come up with in the short amount of time we had.

I was terrified, but Kappy didn’t seem fazed at all, making me wonder if he was even processing the severity of the situation.

The night before our flight, I sat on the ground next to my empty suitcase, struggling to bring myself to pack.

Kappy threw my door open but stayed in the threshold. “Where’s the cat?”

A snort popped out of me. “The coast is clear, Lucy’s taking care of him.”

When his eyes fell on my empty suitcase, his jaw clenched. “Why aren’t you packed? ”

I stayed silent, prompting him to march into my room and start throwing stuff haphazardly into my bags.

I didn’t even care to stop him. My face creased with worry. “I have a bad feeling about this,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest.

Still standing, he ran his tongue over his teeth. “I want to do this, Piper. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”

“What if I don’t?” I challenged. “Are you even processing what could happen?” I asked weakly.

“Yes.” His hands went to his hips. “I fully know the stats, the odds, the facts, I know it all, okay? I don’t care .

” His shoulders fell. “I signed up to be your partner. I signed up to go to the Olympics with you. Everything else I worked for is going to be taken from me. I know that, okay? But I want to finish this. I want to see this one thing through to the end.”

I dropped my head on my knees, not knowing what to do.

With a sigh, he knelt down beside me and his large hand rubbed my head. “Ya know, if you don’t skate with me, it’ll break my heart.”

“Oh my God,” I wailed, slapping his hand away. “Do not joke about it.”

He laughed and his eyes sparked, silently begging me to play with him. “C’mon, you know that was funny.”

“Don’t,” I warned, my lip quivering as I fought off more tears. I was sure my eyes were now permanently puffy from crying so much over the past couple days.

His face sobered. “Okay, too soon, I’m sorry. But we’re not quitters. C’mon, just say you’ll dance with me to the end, babe.” He pulled me into him for a hug, and I found myself nodding, even though I knew I shouldn’t.