Page 5

As soon as I sat in my next uber, I switched my phone to airplane mode and dug a Montreal hockey hat out of my big purse so I could cover my identity and hide my now wet hair.

Maybe it was pathetic of me, but I wanted to stew in my loneliness and sadness and be completely anonymous, untethered to everyone and everything, as I wandered through the airport.

_______ _

And my phone would’ve stayed on airplane mode until I made it back to Chicago, but unfortunately, I had a connecting flight in Detroit and needed my phone map to help me navigate the airport.

As soon as I powered my phone back on, it vibrated non-stop with missed call notifications.

My parents, Luka, Michelle, Mer, Patrick…

I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t stomach telling anyone yet.

As soon as I said it aloud, that Patrick and I were over, it’d be real.

This was quite possibly the worst breakup I’d ever had—and I’d had a lot of them.

To add insult to injury, there was a couple acting all couple-y right in front of me in the Starbucks line, laughing and touching each other, looking all in love. And of course he was holding all of her bags for her.

Ugh.

I rolled my eyes.

Yeah, it looked nice from the outside, but I wondered what it was costing her.

Because every time I was with someone, I cried way more than when I was alone.

Every relationship of mine through my twenties had been marked by empty promises and bitter disappointment.

It was the same each time: Thinking they were the one , I’d bend my morals and self-imposed rules in order to be with them, and then they’d eventually leave me feeling stupid and ashamed for ever touching them, for ever letting them touch me .

Bleh .

I wanted to bathe in bleach if I thought about any of my exes for too long.

The problem was…for everything I’d ever done in those relationships—from make outs, to cooking and cleaning, to buying presents for their families, to bending myself into whatever image they wanted me to portray, to even sex—no one ever even said the words I love you to me.

But I tried to earn them. God, I fucking tried harder for those stupid words than I did for any gold medal.

I strived to be the “perfect girlfriend.” And what did that ever get me? I’ll tell you what:

Blubbering Tears.

Major regret.

And stabbing heart pain .

So, I kept my distance from men. They were dangerous. It just made sense. If you knew something was going to burn you, why reach out and touch it? I’d been burned quite enough, thank you very much.

All women have.

And it’s sad.

And I didn’t want to be sad.

That’s not who I am. That’s not who I was raised to be.

I was Piper Wyndell-Hamilton, damnit , I thought as I slowly walked toward my gate, blowing on my hot coffee.

Then again, that used to mean something.

Piper Wyndell-Hamilton, granddaughter of the two luxury hotel chain owners who maintained a 4.0 in high school and college and racked up ice dance national and international titles since the age of fourteen, that girl was a winner. That girl wouldn’t let anyone step on her.

But lately…

That girl had no partner—in skating or real life.

That girl had no coach

That girl was a “bad sport.”

All because I wanted to win.

And now I was losing when it came to every single fucking category in life.

It used to be okay that I didn’t have any other part of my life figured out because I had skating. It was the one thing that made me feel like I wasn’t behind. I didn’t have a handsome fiancé or family because I was busy building my own success.

But without skating…

I had absolutely nothing.

Not even my fucking pride, apparently, because my eyes were stinging with tears threatening to come forward. It’s just…my heart ached for the stronger, naive version of me. I missed who I was before the world crushed me.

Ugh. No . I would not cry. I quickly blinked away my tears, refusing to break.

“You okay, honey?”

I turned to see a middle-aged woman with long dark hair and kind round eyes hidden behind thick glasses.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I forced a bland smile.

“What’s wrong?” She came closer and touched my elbow, making me back away uncomfortably. I was not a touchy-feely kind of person. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her frown deepened, enhancing the lines on her face.

“No, no, I’m fine.” I tried to wave her off and gave her a smile of thanks, but that still didn’t work.

Her eyes held so much concern as she moved further into my personal space. “You look really upset, honey.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I said more firmly, trying to back away from the stranger.

“Come, sit,” she said, grasping my elbow again.

I automatically yanked my arm away, but when I did, my purse went flying to the ground.

“Oh dear.” The woman dipped for my purse before I could.

“Uh…thank you,” I stammered out, thinking she was handing it to me.

Instead, she grasped my purse to her chest and took off in a full-out sprint.

Oh my God.

My mouth dropped open in shock.

“Oh my God!” I pointed at her. This could not be happening. “Stop her!’ I screamed, but everyone just gawked at me like I lost my ever-loving mind.

I started chasing after her. My hot coffee spilled on my arm, making me cry out in pain. I quickly threw it in a trash can and continued after her, but she was a speedy little thing, dodging people left and right without hesitating at all.

My leg muscles screamed at me in pain, wanting me to stop running, but I was not letting her get away. There’s no way I was about to let myself be outrun by this woman.

Thinking quickly, I ran onto one of the moving tracks that spanned DTW, making me double my speed.

Up ahead, she looked back over her shoulder and scowled.

Yeah, that’s right bitch, I thought. I was closing in on her. Huffing and puffing, I pushed myself to sprint faster. I was right on her tail now. I reached out to grasp her maroon jacket.

Right before my hand could grab the material, something barreled into my side, knocking me completely off my feet.

I smacked to the hard airport ground with a loud thud. Pain bloomed at the back of my head and all down the side of my body.

“Stop her,” I croaked out before black seeped into my vision, taking me under.

_________

A half hour later, I was sitting in some kind of medical area of the airport, holding ice packs to the back of my head and my hip, feeling frustration eating me alive from the inside out as I dialed the one and only number I had memorized.

“Mer?” I croaked.

“Piper?” she asked, her voice sounding groggy. Now I felt really bad because I definitely woke her up. “Are you back in Chicago?”

“No.” I held my mouth for a second to keep my shit together.

“Where are you?” she asked, sounding alarmed. I heard her smacking someone awake, probably Colt. “Babe,” she said to him. “Get up.”

I swallowed hard. “I was getting on a connecting flight, but this lady stole my purse. It has everything in it, my phone, wallet, keys, license, even my fucking passport, Mer.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Where are you?”

“What? What happened? Everyone okay?” Colt mumbled, sounding only half-awake.

“Detroit, DTW,” I blubbered out, feeling helpless.

“Colt, where’s Kappy?” I heard her ask.

“Huh?” he asked.

“Kappy,” she snapped impatiently at her husband. “Where is he?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Colt mumbled. “Went home.”

“Kappy’s there,” Mer said, her voice full of hope.

“Kappy?” My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as I caught sight of my own reflection.

I was a disheveled mess. My hair was back to its natural half-curly, frizzy state from this morning’s rain and dirty water tidal wave, and my face was void of makeup.

This was probably the first time my eyes had been bare in public since the eighth grade. He could not see me like this.

“Yeah, Kappy’s visiting his mom. He’s there. He can help you! Or else I can jump in the car right now—”

“No,” Colt and I said at the same time. “You’re pregnant, Mer,” I added. She found out she was pregnant at her wedding a couple weeks ago. That was another reason I felt guilty living in Montreal the last two months: I was missing my best friend’s pregnancy.

“So what? I’m not dead,” she argued. “It’s only a four-hour drive.

“Mer, it’s late at night, I don’t want you to do that. I’ll just get to one of my parents’ hotels.”

She paused. “How?”

She was right. I had nothing. No phone, no money, no ID. The reality of this mess finally sank in. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

“Kappy will come help you,” she assured me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t want his help,” I whispered.

“But do you need it?” she asked gently.

“Yes.” I sighed, hating the desperation clawing at my throat. “But he hates me, Mer.”

“No, he doesn’t, Piper.”

Swallowing the last of my pride, I rattled off my location in the airport before hanging up.

Feeling practically naked with no purse or bags, I took my time shuffling out to the pick-up zone.

There was nothing else I could do tonight—about anything.

My life was officially a disaster. It was ironic, really.

I thought losing Patrick was hard enough, now I just lost everything else to my name.

I sat miserably on the cold, hard airport bench as I waited for my archnemesis to come take more pity on me.