Chapter 14 Lucy
Lucy
I'm reorganizing the holiday display for the third time this morning when Emma finds me crying behind a tower of gift baskets.
Not delicate tears either. The ugly kind, where my nose runs and my face gets blotchy and I can't catch my breath. I've been holding it together for three days. Smiling at customers. Answering questions about the charity game. Pretending I'm fine when every part of me aches.
"Oh, honey." Emma's arms come around me before I can wipe my face. "How long have you been here?"
"Since six." My voice comes out thick. "Couldn't sleep."
She guides me to the reading nook and disappears. Returns with coffee from next door and one of Natalie's chocolate croissants. Waits until I've taken a bite before speaking.
"Have you talked to him?"
I shake my head. Swallow past the tightness in my throat. "He left. He gets to decide what happens next."
"Lucy." Her tone shifts, gentle but unyielding. "When have you ever waited for someone else to decide your worth?"
The question hits hard. I set down the croissant, hands trembling.
"What am I supposed to do? Chase after him?"
"No. Tell him what you need. Not what you'll settle for.
What you actually need." She leans forward.
"You spent your whole life making yourself smaller so other people would be comfortable.
Your dad who didn't know how to connect with you.
Your exes who wanted the sunshine version but couldn't handle anything real. Even Connor sometimes."
My eyes burn with fresh tears. "What if Connor was right? What if I was just convenient?"
"Do you really believe that?"
I think about the way he touched my face when I told him I loved him. The photo album he kept by his bed. How he gave me fifteen thousand dollars for my building without hesitation. And how he saved the charity hockey game.
"No," I whisper.
"Then stop acting like you do." Emma's voice turns fierce. "When are you going to fight for yourself?"
All these years, I've been waiting. For some guy to decide I was worth the effort. For Ryder to choose me without making him face what he's running from.
But I've been choosing him all along. Choosing to love him when it was complicated. When it frightened me. When Connor said I was making a mistake.
I've been brave about everything except demanding what I deserve.
"I need to talk to him." The decision feels final. "Not to beg. To tell him I'm worth fighting for."
Emma's smile is proud. "There she is."
I finish the coffee. My hands steady. My breathing evens.
"The charity game is tomorrow. He'll be at the rink today, practicing."
"Then go." Emma stands, pulls me up with her. "Whatever happens, you'll be okay."
She's right. I've survived worse than heartbreak.
But god, I hope I don't have to.
***
The drive takes ten minutes. I rehearse what I'll say. Discard options. Start over. By the time I pull into the rink parking lot, my palms are damp on the wheel.
His truck is here. Black and pristine. My pulse kicks.
The rink is quiet. I push through the double doors. Ice and old wood and the chemical tang of zamboni exhaust.
The overhead lights are on. I hear skate scrape before I see him.
Ryder's alone on the ice, moving through drills with mechanical precision. Stop. Turn. Sprint. Stop. His movements are fluid despite the injury. Beautiful the way only athletes can be.
I make my way to the stands. Sit in the front row and watch. He hasn't noticed me yet. Lost in the rhythm. There's something meditative about it, the way he moves.
Or maybe he's just avoiding thinking.
He completes another lap and finally looks up. Sees me. His body goes still. For a long moment we just stare at each other across the ice.
Then he skates over. Stops at the boards in front of me, breathing hard. His hair is damp with sweat. His gray eyes cautious, guarded. The way they were when we first met, before he let me in.
"Lucy." My name comes out rough. "What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk." My voice doesn't shake. "Can you take a break?"
He hesitates. Then nods and skates to the bench. I meet him there. He sits to unlace his skates while I stand, because sitting feels too casual for what I'm about to say.
"I've been thinking," I start. My hands twist together. I force them still. "About us. About what happened on Christmas."
"Lucy, I'm sorry—"
"Let me finish." The words come out sharper than I intended. I soften them. "Please."
He nods. Leans back against the boards, hands braced on the bench. Waiting.
I take a breath. This is it. The moment where I either shrink back into the version of myself that's safe and agreeable, or I step forward into who I'm becoming.
"I love you." The words land between us. Clean and true. "I'm not taking that back. I'm not apologizing for it. I know it's complicated and messy and probably terrible timing. But it's the truth."
His eyes are dark. Storm-cloud gray. He doesn't speak.
I push on. "I spent my whole life trying to be good enough, useful enough, pleasant enough for people to choose me. I'm done."
"Lucy—"
"I know my worth now." The words come out strong. Final. "And I'm worth fighting for. I won't beg you to love me back. I won't shrink myself to make you comfortable. I won't wait around hoping you'll decide I'm enough."
His jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists against the bench.
"Either you see my value or you don't. Either you're brave enough to try or you're not." I take a step back. "But I'm done letting other people—even you—decide whether I'm worthy of love."
"That's not fair." His voice is strained. "You know that's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're choosing fear over me."
He drops his head. Runs his hands through his hair, that gesture he makes when he's overwhelmed. "I can't give you what you need. I don't know how to do this. How to be what you deserve."
The words hurt. But they also make everything clear.
I've said what I came to say. Laid myself bare. Demanded my worth.
Now I need to mean it.
"Okay." I step back. My eyes burn but I won't let the tears fall. Not yet. "Then there's nothing left to say."
I turn to leave. Make it three steps before his voice stops me.
"Wait."
I pause. I don't turn around. I can't look at him and hold myself together.
"Lucy, please. Just wait."
The desperation in his voice pulls me back. I face him. He's standing now, skates abandoned on the bench. His hands are at his sides, fingers curled into fists.
"I'm terrified," he says. The admission comes out raw. "Terrified of hurting you. Of being like my dad. Of building something that matters and watching it fall apart because I don't know how to stay."
"You're not your father." My voice is steadier than I feel. "You get to choose who you are. Every day, you get to choose."
"I know." He takes a step towards me. Then another. "And I'm choosing you. I've been choosing you since the moment you fell off that ladder and looked at me like I was something more than just another hockey player passing through."
My breath catches. "What?"
"I love you." The words tumble out. "I've probably loved you for years. Since you showed up with terrible Christmas puns and looked at me like I was not just Ryder Blackwood, the defenseman. Just Ryder."
The tears I've been fighting spill over. "Then why did you leave?"
"Because I'm an idiot." He closes the distance between us.
Cups my face in his hands. "Because I got scared.
Because when Connor said those things, all I could hear was my dad's voice.
All the ways he justified leaving. And I thought maybe Connor was right.
Maybe I was using you. Maybe I would end up hurting you worse if I stayed. "
His thumb wipes away a tear. "I spent three days trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing by staying away.
That you deserved better than a guy who's going to be in Boston most of the year.
Who doesn't know how to do relationships.
Who's so scared of becoming his father that he almost became him anyway. "
"What changed?"
"You did." His voice drops. "You came here. You demanded your worth. You were brave enough to walk away." He leans his forehead against mine. "You're the bravest person I know, Lucy. You see me. All of me. The broken parts, the scared parts, the parts I don't show anyone. And you love me anyway."
"I do love you."
"I love you too." He kisses me softly. "You're worth fighting for. You're worth everything. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. I'm sorry I ran."
"You came back."
"I'll always come back." He pulls me closer. "I don't have all the answers. I don't know exactly how we make this work with Boston and the distance. But I know I want to try. I know you're worth fighting for."
"We'll figure it out." I wrap my arms around his neck. "Together."
"Together," he agrees. "I'm done being scared. Done running. You're mine and I'm yours, and we'll face whatever comes next as a team."
He kisses me again, deeper this time. I melt into him, into the warmth and solidity of his body, into the promise of this moment.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless. "What about Connor?"
"I'll talk to him." Ryder's jaw sets. "He's my best friend, but you're my future. If he can't accept that, we'll deal with it. But I'm not hiding anymore. I'm not pretending this isn't real."
"He'll come around. Eventually."
"Maybe." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "But even if he doesn't, I'm not letting you go. I've spent too many years putting other people's expectations ahead of what I want. What I need. And I need you."
"I need you too."
We stand there for a moment, holding each other. The rink is quiet except for the hum of the overhead lights and our breathing.
"My room at the inn," he says. "We'll have privacy there. I want you in a bed where I can take my time. Where I can show you what it means when I stop holding back."
Heat floods through me. "Yes."
He grabs his skates and we head for the door. His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together.
At his truck, he pulls me close. Kisses me hard against the driver's side door. "I love you," he murmurs against my lips. "And I'm going to spend the rest of the day proving it."
"I'm holding you to that."
"Good." He opens my door. "Follow me there?"
I nod. Get in my car. Watch him climb into his truck.
As I follow him through Pine Hollow's streets, something settles in my chest. Peace. Hope. The knowledge that I fought for myself and won.
Whatever happens—Connor's reaction, the charity game, the logistics of long distance—we'll handle it. I know we will.
Because I finally chose myself. And he chose me back.
That's all that matters.
***
His bedroom is warm. I barely register the details before he's on me, backing me toward the bed with hungry kisses.
"I've been thinking about this for three days," he says against my mouth. "About all the ways I wanted to touch you."
"Touch me now." My voice comes out breathy.
He does. Strips me with hands that know exactly what they're doing. Lays me back on the bed and follows me down.
"I love you," he says, settling between my thighs. "And I'm done being careful. Done holding back."
"I don't want you to hold back." I reach up, cup his face. "I want all of you."
He searches my eyes for a long moment. Then he nods and kisses me, and it's nothing like before. It's demanding and possessive and hungry.
His hand slides down my body. Cups me through my panties. I gasp into his mouth.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let me hear you."
His fingers slip beneath the fabric. Find me wet and ready. He groans.
"You're soaked."
"I've been thinking about this too." I arch into his touch. "About your hands on me."
He rewards me by sliding two fingers deep. I cry out, head falling back.
"That's my girl." He kisses down my throat while his fingers work me. "So responsive."
"More," I gasp.
"Not yet." He pulls his hand away and I whimper at the loss. "First I'm going to taste you."
He hooks his fingers in my panties and drags them down my legs. Then he spreads my thighs and settles between them, and when his mouth finds me, I see stars.
He doesn't hold back. Doesn't go slow or careful. He devours me until I'm writhing beneath him, hands fisted in his hair, thighs shaking.
"Ryder," I gasp. "I'm going to—"
"Do it." He sucks hard. "Come for me."
I shatter. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me while he works me through it.
When I finally come down, he kisses his way up my body. His lips are wet when he kisses me.
"That's one," he says against my mouth. "I'm going to make you come at least two more times before I'm inside you."
He does. Takes me apart with his hands and mouth until I'm boneless and gasping. Until I'm begging for him.
When he finally strips off his clothes and rolls on a condom, I'm trembling with need.
He settles between my thighs. Notches himself at my entrance. Pauses.
"Look at me," he says.
I meet his eyes.
"I love you," he says. "And you're mine. I'm going to make sure you feel it."
Then he drives into me and I cry out at the stretch, the fullness, the way he fills me completely.
"Move," I gasp.
He does. Sets a rhythm that has me gasping, nails digging into his shoulders. He hooks my knee over his elbow, changes the angle, and hits that spot inside me.
"There," I cry.
"I know." He drives harder. "I know exactly where you need it."
"Touch yourself," he orders. "I want to feel you come around me."
I slide my hand between us. Find my clit. Circle it in time with his thrusts.
"That's it." His voice is rough. "So beautiful like this."
I'm close. So close. The pressure builds and builds.
"Ryder," I gasp. "I'm—"
"Do it." He drives harder. "Come for me."
I shatter. The orgasm rips through me. He manages three more thrusts before he follows, spilling with my name on his lips.
We collapse together. Both gasping. Sweat-slicked and trembling.
"You okay?" he asks.
"More than okay." I turn my head to look at him. "That was perfect."
He pulls out carefully. Then he's pulling me against him, tucking me into his side.
"I meant what I said," he murmurs. "You're mine. And I'm yours. Whatever challenges we face, we face them together."
"Together," I agree.
I close my eyes. Let myself sink into the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.
Tomorrow will bring complications. Connor's grudging acceptance. The charity game. The conversation about Boston and how we make this work long distance.
But tonight, we have this. Each other. And for now, that's everything.