Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Connor swung by the Y and parked along the curb, engine ticking softly as it cooled. Mac had mentioned that morning—casually, like it wasn’t a plan so much as a fact—that after her weekly lunch with Bella at Muddy Boots, she was heading in for an afternoon workout.
Her bike was locked to the rack out front.
Good sign.
Rather than go inside and risk interrupting her, he stayed in his SUV, tablet balanced on the steering wheel as he worked through emails. The doors of the building kept opening and closing—sneakers squeaking, voices overlapping, the sharp echo of a basketball somewhere inside.
Laughter pulled his attention up.
Mac came through the doors a second later, flanked by a loose pack of high school boys still amped from whatever they’d been doing. She shook her head at something one of them said, smiling as she waved them off, then slung her gym bag higher on her shoulder.
Connor set the tablet aside and got out.
“Hey,” he said, slowing as he drew close.
“Hey, Connor.” She looked pleasantly surprised. A little flushed. Relaxed. “It’s a zoo in there. If you’re here to work out, most of the machines are already taken.”
“Actually,” he said, stopping in front of her, “I’m here to see you.”
She tipped her head, waiting.
“The food trucks are out tonight,” he said. “And I heard there’s a new ice cream one parked by the fountain.” He shrugged, easy. “I was thinking of grabbing dinner. Maybe taking a walk along the water after.”
He met her gaze—open, steady. “Would you want to go with me?”
Mac blinked once, more surprise than hesitation. “That sounds really nice,” she said. “Yes.”
“Okay,” he said, the word landing warm and solid. “Good.”
She smiled, unguarded, unbraced. “When are you thinking?”
“Now,” he said. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”
She shook her head. “I don’t. But I did ride my bike.”
“That’s fine.” He glanced toward the rack. “We can toss it in the back of the SUV.”
It took less than a minute. Connor closed the hatch and gestured toward the street. “So, first decision of the night. Walk or drive to the square? Your call.”
“Let’s walk,” she said, then surprised him by looping her arm through his. “It’s too nice an evening to waste it in a car.”
“Sounds good to me.”
With her arm still linked through his, they turned toward the glow of the square. The hum of voices, the music drifting on the air, the smell of something frying already reached them.
“Any idea what you want to eat?” he asked.
She smiled up at him. “I’m feeling brave.”
For the first time, Connor realized he was, too.
In the town square, string lights were draped from pole to pole, casting a soft glow over the brick paths and the cluster of food trucks lined up along the curb.
Music spilled from somewhere near the fountain, mingling with laughter and the steady murmur of conversation.
The air smelled like frying oil, sugar and the faint cool breath of the lake.
“Okay,” Mac said, eyes bright. “This makes the Y look tame.”
Connor laughed. “You said it was a zoo in there. This is the biggest turnout I’ve seen since the town decided Wednesdays were food-truck nights.”
They joined the line at White Fish Forever, the truck’s chalkboard menu scrawled with options and prices that had clearly been adjusted for summer crowds. The line snaked back toward the fountain, people shifting and bumping shoulders as orders were shouted and trays slid through the window.
Someone behind them jostled forward, and Connor instinctively shifted closer, his arm sliding around Mac’s shoulders. Not possessive. Just steady.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she said, her hand settling briefly at his waist like it belonged there. “Crowds don’t bother me. I just…forget how small-town busy feels.”
“Controlled chaos,” he said. “We’re very proud of it.”
She smiled and leaned into him.
They ordered fish tacos—two each, extra slaw—and stepped aside while the line swallowed the space they’d vacated. Connor scanned the square, then nodded toward a picnic table tucked beneath a wide maple tree, its branches strung with lights.
“That one,” he said. “My family always tried to grab that table.”
They carried their trays over, sliding onto opposite sides of the table. The wood was warm from the sun, nicked and carved with initials and years.
“I don’t remember ever coming here with my family,” she said, glancing around like she was checking her own memory.
Connor paused, taco halfway to his mouth. “Yeah?”
“They live in Texas now,” she said. “My sister got married. They wanted to be close to the grandkids.”
“Do you see them much?”
“Some holidays,” she said. “Not all.” She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “When I was playing, holidays were hit or miss. Travel. Games. Training camps.” A small pause. “And now…” She lifted a shoulder. “Last Christmas, I stayed here. Just…decompressed.”
Connor nodded slowly. “That sounds…needed.”
“It was.” She glanced at him. “What about you? Do you get back much?”
“I try,” he said. “Never as much as I want.” He smiled, a little wry. “Turns out, life doesn’t slow down just because you miss a place.”
They ate in companionable quiet for a moment, the hum of the square wrapping around them. When they finished, Connor wiped his hands on a napkin and tipped his head toward the ice cream truck near the fountain.
“Before the line gets even worse?”
She stood, brushing crumbs from her shorts. “Absolutely.”
On the way to the truck, they paused by the fountain, where a statue of three lifelong friends and legends—Gladys Bertholf flanked by Ruby Rakes and Katherine Spencer—were cast in bronze.
A couple of young women pulled coins from their bags. After a moment’s pause, they closed their eyes, and each tossed a quarter into the fountain.
On impulse, Mac retrieved two coins from her pocket. She pressed one into Connor’s hand. “On me. Make a wish and toss it in.”
“What about you?” Connor asked.
Mac held up her quarter. “Bella can’t believe I’ve been in Good Hope since December and not done this. Today is the day I make her proud.”
Connor smiled, his eyes holding hers. “I already know what I’m wishing for.”
Mac gave a little laugh. “Then you’re ahead of me.”
She’d heard the lore. Toss in a quarter, make a wish, and it would come true. Since the three bronze women overseeing the fountain were rumored matchmakers, wishes involving love were said to carry special weight.
While she deliberated, Connor flipped his coin. It skipped once across the water before plunking beneath the surface.
“I’ve seen a rock skip,” Mac said, eyebrows raised. “But never a coin.”
“Special talent,” Connor said with a grin. “Your turn.”
“What did you wish for?” she asked.
“Won’t come true if I tell.”
Of course not. That was part of the lore, too.
Mac exhaled slowly, turning her coin over in her palm. The edges were worn smooth, softened by time and the weight of people’s hopes.
Back when she was playing ball, her wish would’ve been easy—a national championship. Or not to be injured. Things were different now.
It was silly, maybe, to believe a coin and a wish could change anything. But standing there in the sunshine, the scent of strawberry ice cream hanging in the air, Connor steady beside her, Mac couldn’t help but believe a little.
She closed her eyes.
I wish for the courage to open my heart. To Connor.
The words came unbidden, rising from some quiet place she rarely visited. They rang true, even if she didn’t yet know what that would ask of her.
She opened her eyes, found Connor watching her with a curious expression and tossed the coin.
As Mac’s coin left her fingertips, Connor couldn’t take his eyes off her.
It wasn’t the toss that held him. It was the look on her face just before she let it go. Something in her expression had shifted. Not in an obvious way, but he saw it.
A stillness.
A softness.
He didn’t know what she’d wished for, but he had a feeling it mattered.
The coin splashed into the water, sending out a delicate ripple that caught a shaft of evening light. Mac gave a small shrug, like it was nothing, but Connor noticed the way her fingers curled slightly at her sides. As if the wish wasn’t something she’d tossed away lightly.
“Gladys would be proud,” he said, half teasing.
That earned him a smile—wide, real, just a little shy. “You think?”
He nodded. “She was a sucker for people willing to take a chance.”
They walked away from the fountain in companionable silence, the warm breeze tugging at the hem of her T-shirt. She bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm. “Thanks for playing along.”
“I’m a team player.” He paused. “Especially when the team’s got someone like you.”
They shared a cone—vanilla with caramel swirl—passing it back and forth as they wandered away from the noise, fingers brushing, laughter low and easy.
By the time they reached the edge of the square, the music faded behind them, replaced by the low hush of the lake.
“Beach?” Connor asked.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
The sand was cool underfoot, the sky streaked with pink and gold. He reached for her hand—not rushed, not careful. Just sure.
She laced her fingers through his.
They walked like that for a while, waves slipping in and out beside them, the night opening gently ahead.
When she turned toward him, it felt inevitable. The kiss was easy, unclaimed by urgency—salt and sugar and something quietly certain.
Neither of them pulled away right away.
“Good call,” she murmured.
He smiled. “Yeah.”
And they kept walking, hand in hand, and Mac knew, with a clarity that startled her, that this was no longer something she could pretend was casual.
Mac woke before the alarm and lay still, listening.
The house was quiet in the way that meant it wasn’t bracing for anything. No weather rolling in. No early obligation tugging at her shoulder. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint, uneven clink of the wind chimes outside the kitchen window.