Chapter 6 #2
"My gut says I don't want to leave Timber Falls.
My gut says I'm finally starting to build something here—coaching the kids, having actual friends, eating butternut squash muffins in your apartment on a Sunday morning.
" He looked up, meeting her eyes. "My gut says that if I take this offer, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what I gave up for a dream I stopped wanting years ago. "
Lucy felt her breath catch. "And what does your head say?"
"My head says I'd be crazy to turn down the NHL. That I'd be wasting everything I've worked for. That my dad would be disappointed."
"Your dad?" Lucy remembered Jake mentioning him at the farmers market.
"He died six years ago. Heart attack. I was in the AHL, three thousand miles away.
Didn't make it back in time to say goodbye.
" Jake's voice was rough. "He spent my entire childhood driving me to practices, paying for equipment we couldn't afford, believing I was going to make it.
And I did—for three seasons. Then I got hurt and everything fell apart. "
"That wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it? If I'd been faster, stronger, better—"
"Jake, no." Lucy reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "Injuries happen. That's not failure. That's life."
Jake looked at their joined hands like he'd never seen anything quite like it. "I keep telling myself that. But there's this voice in my head that sounds like my dad, saying I gave up too easy. That real hockey players fight through anything."
"That's not your dad's voice. That's your fear talking."
"How do you know?"
"Because my grandmother has a voice in my head too. And sometimes I can't tell the difference between what she actually wanted for me and what I'm afraid she wanted." Lucy squeezed his hand. "I got an email Friday. From a development company. They want to buy the bakery."
Jake's eyes widened. "Are you going to sell?"
"I don't know. The logical part of me sees dollar signs and freedom. The emotional part of me sees betrayal and abandonment. I spent five years building this life around preserving her legacy. If I sell, what does that say about me?"
"Maybe it says you're ready to have your own legacy."
Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. "What if I don't know how? What if I've been hiding in her shadow for so long that I don't remember who I am without it?"
"Then you figure it out. Same as I'm trying to figure out who I am without hockey being my entire identity."
They sat there, holding hands across the table, two people stuck in the expectations of who they thought they should be.
"Can I tell you something?" Lucy said. "Something I've never told anyone except Rei?"
"Please."
"I had a plan. Before my grandmother got sick.
I was going to culinary school in New York.
I had an acceptance letter, a scholarship, a plane ticket.
I was going to travel—Paris, Tokyo, Seoul.
I was going to learn from the best pastry chefs in the world and come back and open my own place.
Something that was mine." She brushed away a tear.
"Then she had the stroke. And I stayed. And I told myself it was temporary—just until she recovered.
But she didn't recover. And suddenly I was running the bakery and five years had passed and I'd forgotten how to want anything that wasn't about maintaining what she built. "
"Do you still want those things? The travel, the culinary school?"
"I don't know. Maybe? But it feels selfish to want them now. Like I'd be abandoning everything she worked for."
Jake was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What if—and I'm just thinking out loud here—what if we're both stuck because we're living for people who aren't here to tell us what they actually wanted?"
"What do you mean?"
"My dad's been dead for six years. Your grandmother's been gone for five.
And we're both making decisions based on what we think they would have wanted instead of what we actually want.
" Jake ran his thumb over her knuckles, a gesture so intimate it made Lucy's breath catch.
"What if we asked ourselves what we'd do if we weren't scared?
If we weren't trying to honor their memories or live up to their expectations? "
"That's terrifying."
"Yeah. But maybe that's the point."
Lucy looked at their joined hands, then out the window at the snow-covered street. Timber Falls looked like a postcard—quaint, peaceful, safe. She'd lived here her entire life. Had never been anywhere else except four years at UVM, an hour away.
"If I wasn't scared," Lucy said slowly, "I'd sell the bakery.
Not to abandon it, but to let it evolve.
I'd use the money to travel. To go to that culinary school, even if it's five years later than planned.
I'd come back and open my own place—something that honors my grandmother but is still mine. " She looked at Jake. "What about you?"
"If I wasn't scared, I'd turn down Nashville. I'd stay in Timber Falls. I'd ask Tommy about coaching—really coaching, not just helping out on Saturdays. I'd figure out how to be a hockey player who loves the game again instead of one who's just going through the motions."
"And?"
"And I'd ask you on an actual date. Not farmers market research or muffin taste-testing. An actual date where I pick you up and take you to dinner and we talk about things that aren't our respective emotional baggage."
Lucy's heart was pounding so hard she was sure Jake could hear it. "You'd do that?"
"I want to do that. I've wanted to do that since the first time you handed me a pork bun three years ago and I realized you had flour on your cheek and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."
"I always have flour on my cheek."
"I know. It's one of my favorite things about you."
They stared at each other across the table, the snow falling outside, the muffins cooling between them, and Lucy felt something shift.
Not the scary, overwhelming shift of everything changing at once.
Just a small shift. A recognition that maybe—maybe—they could do this.
Could choose the things that scared them because they were worth it.
"Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"For the record, if you asked me on an actual date, I'd say yes."
His smile was like sunrise. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay then." Jake took a deep breath. "Lucy Chen, would you like to go to dinner with me? Tomorrow night, assuming I haven't completely destroyed my life by turning down an NHL contract?"
"I'd love to. And for what it's worth, I don't think you're destroying your life. I think you're finally building one."
"Same to you. Whether you sell the bakery or keep it or burn it down and start over—whatever you choose, it's going to be the right choice because it's yours."
Lucy laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. "I'm probably not going to burn it down. Fire code violations are serious."
"Good call."
They finished their muffins and coffee, and then somehow two hours had passed and they were still sitting at the table, talking.
About everything and nothing. About Jake's mother in Manchester and whether he should visit more often (yes, obviously).
About Lucy's dreams of traveling and whether she was brave enough to actually do it (Jake thought she was).
About their mutual insomnia and whether they should just start hanging out at 3 AM since they were both awake anyway.
"I could teach you about classic westerns," Jake offered. "I have about forty of them on DVD."
"DVDs? What is this, 2005?"
"I like having physical copies. Streaming services are unreliable."
"You're secretly eighty years old, aren't you?"
"I'm secretly a man who appreciates the classics. There's a difference."
Lucy was laughing, really laughing, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this relaxed. This present.
Her phone buzzed. Uncle Walter.
Uncle Walter: How's your day off going, Lulu?
Lucy glanced at Jake, who was studying her bookshelf of cookbooks. She typed back:
Lucy: Really good actually. I have company.
Uncle Walter: ??? You have company??? On your day off??? Who???
Lucy: Jake Morrison. We're taste-testing muffins.
Uncle Walter: JAKE MORRISON IS IN YOUR APARTMENT???
Uncle Walter: I'm telling Rei immediately
Uncle Walter: So proud of you honey
Lucy set down her phone, smiling.
"Everything okay?" Jake asked.
"Uncle Walter is threatening to tell everyone in Timber Falls that you're in my apartment."
"Is that a problem?"
"No. Actually, I don't think it is." Lucy stood and walked over to where Jake was examining her cookbook collection. "For three years, I've been hiding. Not just from relationships—from everything. From wanting things, from taking risks, from living. And I'm tired of it."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that tomorrow, you're going to call that scout and turn down the offer. And I'm going to start looking into culinary schools and travel programs and what it would actually mean to sell the bakery. And we're going to go on a real date and see what happens."
"You make it sound easy."
"It's not easy. It's terrifying. But I think—" Lucy stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "I think maybe it's time we both stopped being scared."
Jake reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek. "You still have flour. Right here." He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.
"Occupational hazard."
"I like it."
They stood there, inches apart, the apartment warm and quiet around them. Lucy could feel her heart hammering, could see Jake's pulse jumping in his throat. This was it. The moment where everything either changed or stayed exactly the same.
"Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you believe in signs? Like, the universe telling you you're on the right path?"