Chapter 44 Linc
LINC
Meeting Jules’s family shifted something inside.
Watching her with her brothers—the way they teased her but would clearly cage fight anyone who hurt her—made me understand what I want to be for her.
Not just a summer romance or a hockey player posing as a businessman.
Someone who is there for her. Someone she can rely on …
and make her smile, laugh, and feel loved.
Back home, the lost Lincoln love letters sit on my nightstand, still tied with the faded ribbon.
I’m guessing Jules didn’t open them. I’m now afraid to read them, afraid of what they might reveal about my family’s past, given what Jules read in my mom’s diary.
But knowing she respected that they were mine to discover gives me the courage I need.
I carefully untie the ribbon and unfold the first letter.
My dearest Mary, These last weeks, the distance between us feels like a chasm, cleaving my heart in two.
I know your sister and her husband disapprove of our courtship.
It’s true we come from different worlds, but we have to ask what’s most important?
A perfect union or one where we learn and grow and challenge each other?
I believe I can provide the security you deserve and the adventures you crave.
I want you to know that you are the light that guides me through every dark moment.
The hope that sustains me when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear …
The words blur as I read. These aren’t just love letters, they’re a testament to devotion that survived doubt, distance, and disapproval. Abraham Lincoln, who would become one of history’s greatest leaders, was once just a man desperately in love, fighting for the woman who believed in him.
Another notes that Lincoln recognized that Mary’s family questioned their partnership and he arranged for certain pieces of art and rare books to be gifted to them, like a reverse dowry, indicating that she was his greatest treasure, more valuable than any collection.
Interestingly, they provide a provenance record, which makes me wonder if they’re connected to the founding of Meridian.
By the time I finish all three letters, my resolve has crystallized. Jules deserves someone who pursues her the way Lincoln did for Mary. Someone who doesn’t let fear or family expectations get in the way of what matters.
First, I need to clean up the mess at Meridian. I have to confront my father. Then tell her about playing for the NHL. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me.
On Sunday morning, I wake Jules with a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirs, blinking sleepily up at me.
“Special occasion?” she mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
“Every day with you is,” I say, meaning it more than I’ve meant anything in my life.
Her smile starts small and spreads across her whole face like a sunrise. I lean down for another kiss, this one lingering, and she sighs against my lips.
“What’s the plan today?” she asks when I pull back.
“It’s a surprise. Dress for something active, but bring a jacket.”
“So mysterious.”
I stop by the door to her bedroom, remembering courage. “Actually, Jules, would you go on a date with me this afternoon?”
She presses to sit up fully. “A date?”
“Yeah, like, um, when two people go somewhere together …”
She tips her head back with laughter. “I know what a date is.”
“Will you go on a date with me, Miss Lindley?”
She fiddles with the edge of the quilt on her bed and then looks up at me with a bright smile. “You don’t have to ask twice.”
After breakfast and church (where she prayed we weren’t reenacting an Indiana Jones or National Treasure scene on our date), we stand outside Millennium Park’s ice skating ribbon, watching skaters glide across the rink in the still-warm September air.
She asks, “Ice skating? It’s like summer and fall are having a turf war over the season.”
“Have you ever been?”
“That’s like asking if Las Vegas is hot. We spent as much time as possible in air-conditioned venues, the ice skating rink included. My brothers love hockey.”
I nearly trip as I step onto the sheer surface. Getting my footing, I glide forward smoothly. It feels like coming home, even if these skates are rentals.
“Wait for me,” Jules calls, but she’s grinning as she joins me, slightly wobbly.
“You’re pretty good at this,” I say, skating backward so I can watch her face.
“With the triplets, I had to learn to be athletic fast or get left behind. Mom enrolled us all in everything—skating, swimming, soccer, martial arts.”
I continue skating backward. “I had to pick one sport. It was fencing or this.”
She laughs. “Show off.”
We spend an hour on the ice, racing each other around the rink, playing impromptu games of tag, and stealing kisses when we think no one’s looking. Jules’s cheeks are pink from exertion, her eyes bright with laughter, and I want to stay here with her, like this, forever.
Afterward, we sit on a bench with Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate. She holds hers with both hands. I wrap my arm around her.
She tips her head to look up at me and says, “Being with you makes me feel melty. Like hot chocolate marshmallow goo.”
The simple contentment in her voice makes me feel like a hunting dog lazing in front of a warm fire.
I was about to tell her about hockey—about who I really am.
But looking at her face, seeing her this happy and relaxed, I lose my nerve.
She’ll want to know why I didn’t mention it before now.
I’m afraid she’ll think I didn’t trust her.
There will be time for truth later. Right now, I just want to be the man who makes her feel like melted marshmallows.
The next morning, I wake her the same way—with a kiss that starts gentle and deepens when she responds. Her arms wind around my neck, fingers threading through my hair as she pulls me closer.
“I could get used to this wake-up service,” she murmurs against my mouth.
I nuzzle her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, trying to memorize the way she feels in my arms. “Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”
But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. Preseason starts tomorrow. With that comes training, media obligations, and the demands of a new season. How do I balance that with this—with her?
I push the thoughts away and focus on the present, on the way she sighs when I press kisses along her collarbone, on the trust she shows by letting me hold her like this.
When we part, I say, “See you at the office.”
“We’re such sneaks. Secret keepers.” She laughs, but has no idea how close to the truth she is.
I pause by the door, knowing it’s now or never. But I’m already planning to confront my father. Maybe one confession is enough for today. So I make my exit.
An hour later, I walk through Meridian’s marble lobby. Security nods at me. They’ve gotten used to my presence over the summer. But today feels different. I’m not just the boss’s son playing the role of a businessman. I’m a man with a purpose to make things right.
My father’s office door is closed when I reach the executive floor, but his assistant waves me through. He’s standing by the windows overlooking the city, phone pressed to his ear, and doesn’t acknowledge my presence for several minutes.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he says finally, ending the call. “Abraham, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“We need to talk.”
“Sounds serious.” He drops into his leather chair. “Could it be about the use of company funds?”
“Ding, ding, ding,” I say, though I know he’s referring to the New York and DC trip. “It’s about some discrepancies in insurance filings, among other things.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes. “I see you’ve been busy.”
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” my father calls.
Jules enters, carrying a thick folder, but stops short when she sees me. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“Perfect timing, actually,” my father says. “I asked Miss Lindley to share what you discovered in your investigation.”
I do everything not to move like I just experienced whiplash. “Wait. What?”
The corner of his mouth lifts as realization hits me from behind, from a direction I never saw coming. My father has known all along. That means he’s involved or—what exactly?
“You knew?”
He levels me with his gaze. “Son, I know everything.”
I take a measured breath, wondering what is going on.
Jules looks between us. Clearly sensing the tension, she drops the files and then makes for the door.
“Miss Lindley, please remain. We don’t have any secrets here, do we?” my father says smoothly. “We’re all on the same team.”
She swallows thickly.
“Why don’t you kids tell me what you discovered?”
We’re both quiet except for the ticking of Abe’s old grandfather clock. I came up here fired up, but with a few simple words, my father put out the flames. Now what?