38. Bethany
Chapter thirty-eight
Bethany
Timothy stands in front of me with his heart in his hands.
Not literally.
That would be alarming.
But close enough that I can see how much it costs him.
The rink lights shine behind him. Snow clings to the shoulders of his coat. His hands hang at his sides instead of reaching for me, even though I know he wants to.
He is giving me the choice.
A real one.
No old promise.
No puppy.
No project.
No reason to come back except the one standing between us.
“And if there is any part of you that still wants me, I am asking you to choose me too," he says.
Every answer inside me tries to arrive at once.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
Yes.
Please.
I should have trusted you.
I should have told you.
I was scared.
The words crowd together until none of them can get through. Timothy’s expression changes.
He thinks my silence is an answer.
“No,” I say.
His face empties.
My heart stops.
“That came out wrong.”
Behind him, Wesley drops something metal.
The sound rings across the rink.
Several heads turn toward us.
Wonderful.
Nothing improves a romantic confession like accidentally rejecting the man you love in front of his entire team.
Timothy takes one careful step back.
“Bethany, you do not have to explain.”
“I do.”
“You don’t owe me—”
“Stop.”
The word comes out sharper than I intend.
He stops.
So does everyone else.
The conversations around the rink fade in pieces.
Jenna looks from me to Timothy with Reggie tucked under one arm.
Laurie has one hand pressed to her chest.
Grant stands beside her with Major at his leg, watching with the expression of a man who knows this is none of his business but has no intention of leaving.
Anne lowers her camera.
Thank goodness.
I turn back to Timothy.
“I was not saying no to you.”
A flicker of hope crosses his face.
“I was trying to say too many things at once.” My voice shakes. “I love you, too.”
The rink goes silent. Even Reggie stops moving.
Timothy stares at me.
I take one step closer.
“I met with Grant today,” I say. “We are going to work through the details, and he is helping me figure out how to hire someone.”
A smile starts at the edge of Timothy’s mouth.
“That is huge.”
“I know.”
I glance toward the lodge.
“My business is going to take more clients.”
His smile falters. I step nearer. “But my priority right now is Hockey House.”
Timothy’s gaze sharpens.
“Because of the contract?”
The answer comes easily. “No. The contract is not the reason I came back.”
Timothy does not move.
“I came back because I was tired of letting fear decide where I belonged.”
I spent too long hiding the truth inside practical explanations.
“I kept telling myself I was only here because the lodge needed me,” I say. “Then the rink needed me. Then the puppy needed me.”
Reggie barks once. "Shhhh," Jenna scolds.
I continue before I lose my nerve.
“I gave Reggie to Jenna without telling you because I thought if I handled the ending quickly enough, I could control how much it hurt.”
My voice wavers.
“I was wrong. I'm sorry.”
Timothy glances toward Reggie.
The puppy is trying to reach the marshmallow in Wesley’s cup.
“And I should not have told you to leave," Timothy says.
A small laugh catches in my throat. It comes out wet and unsteady.
Timothy’s mouth moves.
“I'm glad we got all that sorted out,” I say.
Wesley shifts somewhere behind Timothy.
A cup crinkles.
I look at him.
He freezes.
“Sorry.”
Jonah pulls him backward by the coat.
I turn to Timothy again. I reach for his hand. His fingers tighten around mine instantly.
“I may have made you regret choosing me,” I say. “I may be too late.”
“You’re not.”
The answer breaks out of him.
He pulls me one step closer, then stops himself.
Still asking.
Still giving me the choice.
“You are not too late.”
Around us everybody has started to go back to the festivities.
The guys arguing about hot chocolate flavors. The Hockey House glows beyond the rink.
It's everything I thought I had to earn.
Everything I was afraid to lose.
None of it is guaranteed.
The lodge may not last forever.
Timothy’s career may change.
My business may grow beyond anything I know how to manage.
We may hurt each other again.
Love does not make the future safe.
But maybe safe was never the point.
Timothy lifts his head and kisses me.
His mouth is warm against mine, his arms steady around me, the cold ice beneath us proof that I am not imagining any of it.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
Eventually, he convinces me to try skating again.
I fall twice more.
It is not graceful.
It is not controlled.
It is not practical.
It is perfect.