37. Timothy
Chapter thirty-seven
Timothy
Istand beside the new bench, tugging at the cloth covering the plaque for what has to be the sixth time.
It still will not stay straight.
“Stop touching it,” Shane says.
“I’m improving it.”
“You’ve made it worse four times,” Wesley says from where he is crouched behind the bench. “I’ve been keeping track.”
I turn toward him.
He has a screwdriver in one hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Quality assurance.”
“The bench is already installed.”
Wesley rises and brushes snow from his knees.
“You’re tense.”
I stare at him.
He glances toward the road.
“Bethany isn’t here yet.”
The cold air catches in my lungs. “I noticed.”
“She’ll come.”
I look toward the restored rink.
The overhead lights glow against the early evening sky, brightening the smooth ice and the freshly painted boards. Snowbanks line the outside perimeter, pushed back far enough to leave a wide path from the lodge.
The gate swings cleanly.
The nets are anchored.
Hot chocolate steams from two insulated dispensers on a folding table. Jonah has arranged cups, marshmallows, and peppermint sticks.
The whole thing looks good.
Fifteen years of neglect hidden beneath new boards, repaired lights, and ice smooth enough to reflect the lodge windows.
I make another lap from the bench to the rink gate.
“You’re pacing,” Maxon says.
“I’m checking things.”
Anne lowers her camera.
She has been taking pictures since she arrived, moving between the rink and the lodge.
She already photographed the new boards, the repaired gate, the bench, the guys pretending to work, and Grant standing beside Laurie while Major leaned against his leg.
Now she points the camera at me.
“No.”
She takes the picture anyway.
“Delete that.”
“You look authentic.”
“I look nauseated.”
“Exactly.”
Maxon steps beside her and looks at the camera screen.
“I want that one.”
“You are a terrible friend.”
“I’m thinking of the wedding slideshow.”
Anne elbows him.
“Maybe let him survive tonight first.”
“Thank you.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile.
Then raises the camera again.
I turn away before she records another stage of my collapse.
Cars line the lodge drive.
Grant and Laurie arrived ten minutes ago. Jenna came a few minutes later with Reggie wearing a small green sweater.
The puppy is currently running circles around Major trying to get him to play.
Jonah’s sister brought her kids.
A few team staff members stand near the firepit.
Coach arrived alone and immediately inspected the ice as though we might be hiding structural defects beneath it.
The gathering is small.
That was intentional.
Bethany would hate a crowd built around her.
She may hate this one too.
I pull out my phone.
No new messages.
Jenna comes up beside me.
“She’s on her way.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked.”
I look toward the road before I can stop myself.
Still empty.
Jenna follows my gaze.
“You could breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
Reggie trots over and sits on my boot.
I look down.
His sweater reads SIR REGINALD across the back in white letters.
I crouch and scratch beneath his collar.
“You’re supposed to be supporting me.”
He licks my chin.
“Excellent work.”
I stand.
Jenna takes my wrist before I can put my hand in my pocket. “Tim.”
Her tone changes.
The teasing disappears.
The bench sits near the gate. The plaque is fixed into the center of the backrest beneath the cloth.
The gesture is permanent.
“This part is for her and Laurie,” I say. “Whether she forgives me or not.”
Jenna releases my wrist.
“That’s all you can give her.”
“I know.”
Headlights appear between the trees.
A truck turns into the drive.
Bethany’s truck.
She parks near the porch. Then the door opens.
Bethany steps out.
She is wearing a cream coat, dark jeans, and the green scarf she wore the first night we worked on the rink after dark. Her curls move in the wind as she shuts the truck door and looks toward the ice.
Her gaze travels over the lights.
The people.
The bench.
Then she finds me.
The entire space between us seems to narrow.
Laurie crosses the snow and wraps Bethany in a hug.
Bethany’s eyes close briefly.
When they open again, she looks over her mother’s shoulder at me.
I lift one hand.
“She came,” Wesley whispers beside me.
“I can see that.”
“I’m narrating for emotional impact. We are all rooting for you.”
“Stop.”
Bethany greets Grant, then crouches to let Reggie attack her gloves. Jenna says something that makes her laugh.
The sound reaches me across the yard. I have missed that laugh. I have missed her.
Shane taps my shoulder.
“Time.”
People are gathering near the rink gate.
Anne moves into position with her camera.
Grant stands beside Laurie. Major settles near his feet. Jenna lifts Reggie into her arms.
Bethany remains slightly behind her mother.
I walk to the front.
The conversations fade. For one second, I forget every word I planned. The crowd is small. It still feels like every person I know is watching.
Wesley cups his hands around his mouth. “Speech.”
“Thank you, Wesley.”
“You’re welcome.”
A few people laugh.
The tension loosens a little. I look at the rink.
“When we first got permission to live at Lestor Lodge, we were given a lot of rules.”
Shane nods solemnly.
“Some of us struggled more than others.”
Another laugh.
I glance at Bethany. She is watching me carefully.
“Most of those rules were about making sure we did not destroy the property.”
“Still standing,” Jonah says.
“And that brings us to these two amazing women, Laurie and Bethany Bennett. They cleaned fifteen years of neglect out of that house and made it possible for five hockey players to live there without requiring emergency vaccinations."
The crowd claps appreciatively.
I continue, “The Bennett women restored more than a property,” I say. “They helped give this team a home.”
I step toward the covered plaque.
I look at Bethany.
I pull the cloth away.
The wood beneath it is polished dark, the letters engraved into a brass plaque fixed into the back of the bench.
Anne’s camera clicks.
The gathered crowd claps.
Then Laurie reads the plaque aloud.
BENNETT RINK
Restored through the vision, determination, and care of Laurie and Bethany Bennett.
For everyone who finds a place here.
Bethany smiles.
Grant steps closer to Laurie.
His arm goes around her shoulders.
Wesley leans toward Jonah.
“I still think Laur-ethany Rink was more distinctive.”
“It sounds stupid,” Jonah says.
Bethany lets out a broken laugh.
The sound releases everyone else.
Applause rises around the rink.
Bethany looks from the plaque to her mother.
Laurie pulls her into another hug.
Anne captures the moment.
Jenna whistles with two fingers in her mouth while holding Reggie under one arm.
I stay beside the bench.
Grant says a few words followed by Coach. Then the crowd disperses.
Jonah pours hot chocolate. Wesley attempts to explain the thought behind his naming proposal.
People drift toward the bench to read the plaque.
Bethany touches the engraved letters with one gloved fingertip. Laurie stands beside her.
I turn away.
Anne finds me near the rink gate.
“That was good,” she says.
“You sound surprised.”
“I have photographed enough men to understand the limitations.”
Maxon appears beside her.
“High praise.”
I look toward Bethany again.
She is talking to Grant now, and laughing at something Laurie says.
Jenna walks over and hands me Reggie’s leash. “Here, hold your emotional support aristocrat.”
Reggie immediately wraps the leash around my ankles.
“Helpful.”
“I think Bethany wants to talk to you.”
My head snaps up.
Bethany is standing alone beside the new bench.
Looking at me.
The gathering continues around us.
Kids pull on skates near the warming tent. Jonah argues with Wesley about marshmallow ratios. Grant and Laurie walk toward the lodge with Major.
No one is watching us.
Except Anne, who lowers her camera when I look at her.
She understands.
I hand Reggie’s leash back to Jenna.
I cross the snow. Bethany keeps one hand resting on the top of the bench. When I reach her, she looks down at the plaque again.
“You spelled our name correctly.”
“I had supervision.”
Her laugh is quiet.
It fades.
The space between us fills with everything we have not said.
“Timothy, I...”
“Bethany…”
We speak at the same time.
She stops.
“So do I,” I say.
Her forehead creases.
“What?”
“Miss you.”
Her breath catches.
She looks at me.
The rink lights catch in her eyes.
“This is beautiful.”
I rub my palms against my coat.
“I wanted you to know what you did here mattered. And that you still matter, after the project ended.”
Her throat moves.
“Thank you.”
I do not ask her to explain yet.
“I did not know whether you would come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
I nod.
“Thank you for coming.”
She touches the edge of the plaque.
“I'm glad I did.”
I cannot keep circling the truth.
Not after all the time I spent hiding it.
“I need to tell you something.”
Bethany’s fingers tighten around the wood.
“All right.”
“I love you,” I say.
Bethany goes completely still.
The world does not.
Skates scrape over ice behind us. Someone laughs near the firepit. Reggie is attempting to eat a dropped marshmallow.
But the space between Bethany and me becomes silent.
“I love you,” I repeat. “And it is not because you did something to prove yourself.”
Her eyes fill. I step closer. Not touching. Leaving the final distance to her.
“I love you whether you’re fixing everything or letting someone else take care of you for once.”
My heart hammers hard enough to make my chest ache.
“I want you in my life because of who you are Bethany.”
She presses one hand against her mouth.
I have never been more afraid of silence.
Still, I do not fill it for her.
This choice belongs to Bethany.
All I can do is finally give it to her.
“And if there is any part of you that still wants me, I am asking you to choose me too.”