Chapter 12 #2
"You didn't even know my grandmother."
"Didn't have to. Anyone who raised someone like you knew what they were doing."
Mae arrived late with a group of college friends, and soon the whole back room was packed with people eating Giuseppe's food and celebrating Lucy's decision.
It felt like a wedding. Or a going-away party. Or both.
Around 10 PM, Lucy found herself outside, needing air and quiet. Jake followed her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just overwhelmed. Happy overwhelmed, but still."
They stood in the cold November air, watching their breath fog.
"Can I tell you something?" Lucy asked.
"Always."
"I'm terrified of Paris. Not just the leaving part—the being there part. I've never lived anywhere but Timber Falls. I've barely traveled. What if I get there and I'm terrible at it? What if I can't hack culinary school? What if—"
"Lucy." Jake turned her to face him. "You're going to be amazing. You're one of the most talented bakers I've ever met. You work harder than anyone I know. And yeah, it'll be scary. But you're brave enough to handle it."
"How do you know?"
"Because you just sold your grandmother's bakery despite the whole town initially being against it. Because you chose yourself even when it was hard. That's brave."
Lucy leaned into him, letting his warmth and certainty steady her.
"I love you," she said. "I know I've said it before, but I need you to really hear it. I love you. Not because you're convenient or because you're here. But because you see me—really see me—and you make me want to be brave."
"I love you too. And I'm going to keep loving you from here while you're being brave in Paris."
They stood there for a long time, holding each other, letting the reality of what came next sink in.
Two and a half months. That's all they had before everything changed again.
Lucy was going to make every moment count.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of routine and change.
Lucy worked at the bakery, training the new staff that Barrett Development was bringing in.
Jake continued coaching while finishing out the season as a player.
They fell into a pattern—Wednesday morning pork buns, Friday morning coffee-making, evenings spent at one apartment or the other, just being together.
Marcus started calling them "disgustingly domestic."
"You're like an old married couple," he said after watching them cook dinner together one night. "You finish each other's sentences. You have inside jokes. Jake, you did her dishes without being asked."
"And?" Jake said.
"And it's adorable. Also sickening. But mostly adorable."
The Wolves won their next three games. Jake played well, but his mind was already shifting to coaching. Tommy had him running practices now, teaching plays, working with individual players on their technique.
"You're a natural," Tommy said after Jake led a particularly effective practice. "The guys respond to you. They trust you."
"Even Owen?"
"Especially Owen. Kid follows you around like a puppy."
It was true. Owen had taken to asking Jake endless questions about everything—hockey technique, life decisions, how to know if you were making the right choice.
"How did you know?" Owen asked one day after practice. "That staying here was the right call? That turning down the NHL was worth it?"
"I didn't know," Jake admitted. "I just knew that chasing the NHL was making me miserable. And staying here, building this life—it made me happy. Sometimes that's all you can go on."
"But what if you regret it later?"
"Then I'll deal with that later. But Owen—you can't live your life trying to avoid all possible regret. You just have to make the best choice you can with the information you have and trust that you'll figure out the rest."
Owen nodded thoughtfully. "Is that what Miss Lucy is doing? Going to Paris?"
"Yeah. That's exactly what she's doing."
At home—and Jake had started thinking of both apartments as home, switching between them so seamlessly he sometimes forgot which one he was in—he and Lucy talked about logistics.
"I'll visit in March," Jake confirmed. "Spring break for youth hockey. I can take a week off."
"A week in Paris together," Lucy said, smiling. "What do you want to do?"
"Eat pastries. See the Eiffel Tower. Watch you be amazing at culinary school."
"We're not doing demonstrations for visitors."
"I'll bribe your instructors with my charm."
"You're not that charming."
"You're dating me, so clearly I'm somewhat charming."
Lucy laughed and kissed him. These moments—easy, playful, comfortable—were what Jake would miss most.
On the first Saturday of December, Jake took Lucy to see Emma's hockey team play their first game of the season.
Emma skated up to the glass when she saw them. "Miss Lucy! You came!"
"Wouldn't miss it."
Emma proceeded to score two goals and assist on another. After the game, she bounced over to where Jake and Lucy were standing.
"Did you see? Did you see?"
"I saw. You were incredible," Jake said.
"Are you still leaving for Paris?" Emma asked Lucy.
"Yes. In February."
"Will you come back?"
"Of course. This is my home."
"Promise?"
Lucy crouched down to Emma's level. "I promise. And when I come back, I'm going to open a restaurant. You can be my first customer."
"Really?"
"Really."
Emma hugged Lucy fiercely, then skated back to her team.
"She loves you," Jake observed.
"I love her too. All these kids. This town." Lucy's voice was thick. "I'm going to miss it so much."
"It'll be here when you get back. We'll all be here."
That night, lying in bed, Lucy turned to Jake.
"Tell me something true."
"About what?"
"About us. About what happens when I leave. Don't sugarcoat it—tell me the truth."
Jake was quiet for a moment, thinking.
"The truth is, it's going to be hard. Really hard.
We're going to miss each other. There will be days when the distance feels impossible.
You're going to have amazing experiences in Paris that I'm not part of.
I'm going to have moments here that you miss.
We're going to have to work at this—at staying connected, at making time for calls, at being patient with time zones and busy schedules. "
"That's not very romantic."
"You asked for truth, not romance." Jake pulled her closer.
"But here's the rest of the truth. I think we can do it.
I think what we have is real enough and strong enough to survive six months of distance.
And I think when you come back, we're going to be even stronger because we'll have proven that this works. That we work."
"You really believe that?"
"I really believe that."
Lucy was quiet for a moment. Then: "What if I want to stay in Paris longer than six months? What if I get opportunities there that I can't pass up?"
"Then we'll figure that out too. Lucy, I'm not asking you to limit your dreams for me. I'm just asking to be part of them, however that looks."
"Even if it means more than six months apart?"
"Even then. Though I'll probably visit more often. France has good hockey, right? I could scout international talent. Make it a work trip."
Lucy laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love. There's a difference."
They fell asleep wrapped around each other, and Jake tried to memorize everything—the way Lucy's hair smelled like flour and vanilla, the soft sound of her breathing, the perfect weight of her in his arms.
Two months. That's all they had left before she left.
Jake was going to make every moment count.
The week before Christmas, Barrett Development officially took over operations of The Bread Basket.
Lucy spent her last Saturday as the official owner training the new manager—a woman named Sarah who'd worked in bakeries for fifteen years and genuinely loved the job.
"I'll take care of it," Sarah promised. "I know what this place means to the community. I'm not going to change what works."
"Thank you."
On Christmas Eve, Lucy closed the bakery early and went upstairs to find Uncle Walter, Rei, Jake, and Marcus all waiting in her apartment with Chinese food and wine.
"Surprise Christmas Eve," Rei announced. "We figured you needed family time."
They ate too much food and drank too much wine and told stories late into the night.
Uncle Walter shared memories of Lucy's grandmother that Lucy had never heard.
Rei told embarrassing college stories. Marcus regaled them with tales of Jake's evolution from "grumpy hermit" to "functioning human with feelings. "
"I wasn't that bad," Jake protested.
"You literally didn't speak to anyone except to grunt about hockey," Marcus said. "For three years. You were that bad."
"And now look at him," Rei said. "In love, living his life, actually smiling sometimes."
"I smiled before."
"No, you did this thing where you showed your teeth. It was terrifying. Now you actually smile."
Lucy watched Jake laugh with her friends—her family—and felt her heart get too full.
This. This was what she'd been missing for five years. Connection. Joy. Life beyond work.
And it had taken Jake—and his pork bun obsession—to help her find it.
On Christmas morning, Lucy woke up in Jake's apartment to find him already awake, watching her.
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas." Lucy stretched. "What time is it?"
"Seven. I made coffee. And I have something for you."
Jake pulled out a small wrapped box.
"Jake, we said no gifts—"
"Open it."
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a tiny whisk charm—like the tattoo Lucy had on her wrist in honor of her grandmother.
"Jake..."
"I saw it and thought of you. And your grandmother. And how brave you're being." He helped her put it on. "So when you're in Paris and you're scared or lonely or doubting yourself, you can look at this and remember that someone in Timber Falls believes in you completely."
Lucy kissed him, trying to put everything she was feeling into it. "Thank you. I love it."
"I love you."
"I love you too. And—" Lucy pulled out a wrapped package of her own. "I also didn't follow the no-gifts rule."
Inside was a framed photograph—Jake on the ice during youth hockey practice, showing Emma the spin move, both of them grinning. Lucy had taken it a few weeks ago without Jake noticing.
"This is what you look like when you're doing what you're meant to do," Lucy said. "When you're happy. I wanted you to have it for your office—once you have an actual office as a coach."
Jake stared at the photo, his eyes getting suspiciously shiny. "This is perfect. Thank you."
They spent Christmas Day with Uncle Walter, eating too much food and watching bad holiday movies. It was perfect and normal and exactly what both of them needed.
That night, back in Jake's apartment, Lucy said, "Six more weeks."
"I know."
"I'm excited. And terrified. And I'm going to miss you so much."
"Same. All of the above."
"Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise me that no matter what happens—if long distance is too hard, if we grow apart, if life gets complicated—promise me we'll be honest with each other. No pretending everything's fine when it's not."
"I promise. And you promise me the same?"
"I promise."
They sealed it with a kiss, and Lucy tried not to think about how in six weeks, she wouldn't be able to do this—just reach over and kiss him whenever she wanted.
Six weeks. Then six months.
She could do this. They could do this.
Love was worth fighting for.
Even when it was hard.
Especially when it was hard.
New Year's Eve arrived with fresh snow and a party at Mac's Tavern that the entire Wolves team was attending.
Jake and Lucy arrived together, and Marcus immediately wolf-whistled.
"Look at you two, all coordinated and couple-y."
"We're not coordinated," Lucy protested, though she was wearing a dark blue dress that did match Jake's blue sweater remarkably well.
"You're absolutely coordinated. It's adorable."
The party was loud and crowded and full of people Jake had known his entire life. For the first time in years, Jake felt completely present. Not waiting for something better. Not wishing he was somewhere else. Just here, with Lucy, with his team, living his life.
At 11:30, Tommy called for everyone's attention.
"I have an announcement. As you all know, I'm retiring at the end of this season. It's been an incredible run—thirty years coaching in this town. But it's time." Tommy turned to Jake. "Which is why I'm officially announcing that Jake Morrison will be taking over as head coach next season."
The room erupted in applause. Jake felt Lucy squeeze his hand.
"Speech!" someone yelled.
Jake reluctantly stood. "I don't have a speech prepared. But I'll say this—three years ago, I came back to Timber Falls because I thought I'd failed at hockey. Thought my career was over. Thought I was settling for less than what I was supposed to be."
He looked at Lucy. "I was wrong. I wasn't settling. I was finding my way to where I was supposed to be all along. To coaching. To this team. To this community. To—" He paused. "To the people who matter most."
More applause. Jake sat down quickly, his face hot.
"That was beautiful," Lucy whispered. "And incredibly vague about who 'the people who matter most' are."
"Everyone in this room knows I was talking about you."
"Still. You could have been more specific."
"I'll make a more specific speech when you get back from Paris and we're announcing other things."
Lucy's eyes went wide. "Other things?"
"Hypothetical other things. Future other things. Don't panic."
But Lucy was smiling. "I'm not panicking. I'm... intrigued."
At midnight, the whole bar counted down together. When the clock struck twelve, Jake kissed Lucy like he'd been waiting all year to do it.
"Happy New Year," she whispered against his lips.
"Happy New Year. To new beginnings."
"To new beginnings," Lucy agreed.
They stayed at the party until 2 AM, celebrating with friends, soaking up the community that had been home their entire lives.
Walking back to their building through the snow, Lucy said, "Five more weeks."
"I know."
"I'm ready. I think. Are you ready?"
"No. But I'll get there."
They climbed the stairs together, and for the first time in three years, Jake didn't feel like he was waiting for his life to start.
He was living it.
And even though Lucy was leaving in five weeks, even though everything was about to change again—Jake wasn't scared.
He was just grateful.
For pork buns and Wednesday mornings and a woman who'd taught him how to show up.
For second chances and new beginnings and love that was worth fighting for.
For choosing. And being chosen in return.
It was enough.
More than enough.
It was everything.