Chapter 16 Lucy #2
For a long moment, we just breathe together, sweat-slicked and tangled.
His heartbeat pounds against my palm. Mine races in time.
This is what I'll remember when he's gone.
Not the distance or the loneliness, but this.
The way he looks at me like I'm his whole world.
The way he touches me like I'm precious.
The way he makes me feel brave enough to believe we can survive anything.
"Stay," I whisper, even though I know I'm the one who has to leave.
"Always." He kisses my temple, gentle now. "I'll always come back to you."
We drift like that, wrapped around each other while the snow falls outside and the night stretches toward dawn.
Eventually he shifts to the side and pulls the blankets over us, tucking me against his chest. I press my ear to his heartbeat and let myself imagine the weeks ahead.
Empty beds and phone calls that never feel long enough.
But also his return every break, our stolen hours, the way we'll build this relationship across the miles until he comes home for good.
"What are you thinking?" he murmurs against my hair.
"That this is real."
His arms tighten. "It's real."
I fall asleep believing him.
***
January second dawns gray and bitterly cold. I wake to Ryder's alarm and the weight of what today means settling heavy in my chest.
He has to leave.
I've known this was coming since the moment he told me about training camp. Knew it when he kissed me at the New Year's party, when he made his speech, when he promised to come back. But knowing doesn't make it easier when I wake to find him packing his duffel bag in the early morning light.
"Coffee?" I offer, because I don't know what else to say.
"Please."
We move through the morning in careful silence.
He folds jerseys and checks his phone while I make scrambled eggs neither of us can really eat.
The apartment feels too small and too big at the same time.
Every moment stretches and compresses, time doing strange things because it knows it's running out.
His flight leaves at one. We have four hours.
"I'm coming back in two weeks," he says over breakfast. "Already booked the ticket to Pine Hollow."
"I know."
"And I'll call every night."
"I know." I push eggs around my plate. "This isn't goodbye."
"No." He reaches across the table, catches my hand. "It's not."
But it feels like it. Feels like everything good is about to walk out my door and leave me here with just the memory of what these past three weeks have been.
We do the dishes together, and I'm grateful for tasks that keep my hands busy.
He tells me about training camp, about the team's playoff chances.
I tell him about the spring events I'm planning for the shop, the new book club I want to start.
We're both trying so hard to be normal, to act like this is fine, but my throat keeps closing up and his jaw stays tight.
At noon, we can't put it off anymore. We drive to Logan in silence, my hand in his across the center console. The highway stretches out gray and salt-stained, and I focus on the lines because if I look at him I'll lose it.
At the terminal, he grabs his duffel from the trunk and pulls me into a hug that lasts too long and not nearly long enough.
"I'll call you when I land," he says against my hair.
"Okay."
"And I'll see you in two weeks."
"Okay."
"And I love you."
I pull back enough to see his face. His eyes are wet. "I love you too."
He kisses me there on the curb with car horns blaring and people rushing past, and it feels like the future we're building one weekend at a time.
Then he's gone, disappearing through the sliding doors with one last look over his shoulder. I stand there until I can't see him anymore, until the cold seeps through my coat and my fingers go numb.
The drive back to Pine Hollow feels longer than it should. I stop for gas and coffee I don't drink, just to delay walking into Dad's empty house. But eventually I can't put it off.
The shop looks different when I pull up outside. Not bad, just different. Mine now in every way - not just the business, but the building too. The paperwork went through last week, making it official. My dream, fully realized.
I let myself in through the side door and flip on the lights.
The space welcomes me like it always has, familiar and warm despite the January chill.
I move through the routine of straightening shelves, checking the register, sorting through tomorrow's special orders. Normal things. Grounding things.
My phone chimes. A text from Ryder: Boarding now. Miss you already.
I smile despite the ache behind my ribs. Miss you too. Safe flight.
Another text. Emma: Dinner tonight? You shouldn't be alone.
Me: Sounds good. Your place at seven?
Emma: Perfect. Bringing wine and terrible movies. Love you.
I set my phone down and look around the shop. Really look. At the reading nook where Ryder and I had our first real conversation. At the shelves I've curated with so much care. At the window display I change with the seasons.
This place holds all of it. Every laugh, every argument, every moment that led us here.
The front door chimes, and I turn to find Dad letting himself in with his spare key. "Thought you might want company."
I don't ask how he knew I'd be here. Dad always knows.
"He get off okay?" Dad asks.
"Yeah." I lean against the counter. "I'm fine."
"You don't have to be fine."
That cracks me open. I press my hands to my face, and Dad crosses the room to pull me into a hug. "He's coming back, Luce. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"And in the meantime, you've got us. The whole family."
I laugh wetly. "Lucky me."
"Damn right." He squeezes my shoulder. "Now come on. Connor and Emma are making dinner. Something about making sure you eat actual food and don't survive on coffee and sadness."
"Connor said that?"
"Emma said that. Connor just grunted approval."
We lock up the shop and head to Connor and Emma's house. Connor's already in the kitchen, doing something complicated with chicken. Emma's setting the table with Maisie's help. When they see me, Emma immediately wraps me in a hug while Maisie demands to know where Uncle Ryder is.
"He had to go back to Boston for work," I tell her. "But he'll visit soon."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
We eat together, the four adults and one chattering toddler, and I'm grateful for my family.
For the way they show up when I need them most. Connor doesn't say much, but he pours me an extra glass of wine and doesn't make any jokes about long distance relationships.
Emma keeps the conversation flowing. Dad tells stories about Mom that make us all laugh and cry.
Later, after Maisie's in bed and Dad's headed home, I help Emma with the dishes while Connor takes out the trash.
"You okay?" Emma asks quietly.
"Getting there."
"Two weeks isn't that long."
"I know." I scrub a plate. "It's just hard. Being apart when we just figured out how to be together."
"You'll make it work." Emma bumps my shoulder. "You're stubborn, he's stubborn, and you're both too in love to give up."
When I get home that night, I climb into bed and pull up my phone. There's a text from Ryder with a photo attached. Him in what looks like a hotel room, holding up a terrible selfie with a goofy smile.
Ryder: Landed safe. Training camp starts tomorrow. Place feels empty without you. Two weeks, Luce. I'm counting down already.
Me: Two weeks. I love you.
Ryder: Love you too. Sleep well.
I set the phone on my nightstand and stare at the ceiling. Two weeks. Then two weeks after that. Then maybe a month. We'll figure out the rhythm eventually.
Tomorrow I'll open the shop. I'll help customers find their next great read and wrap gifts and start planning the spring author events that will bring the community together. I'll build the life I've been too scared to claim until Ryder showed me how.
But tonight, I let myself feel the distance. Let myself be sad and hopeful in equal measure, because that's what love is sometimes. It's trusting someone enough to let them leave, knowing they'll come back.
Outside, snow begins to fall again. Blanketing the world in quiet promise. Inside, I'm safe and warm and loved, and that's enough.
For now, it's enough.