"She was probably right." Connor's voice goes soft. "But she never stopped us."
Martha. Warm and patient and the closest thing to a mother I had after mine died.
"She was the best," I say.
We hoist the middle ball onto the base. My shoulder screams, but I don't let it show.
I glance at the house. Lucy stands at the kitchen window watching us. Even from this distance, I can see her soft smile.
She lifts her hand in a small wave.
I wave back.
Then Emma appears beside her. Says something. Lucy's head whips around. Her cheeks go red.
Emma laughs. Lucy swats at her arm.
"Earth to Ryder." Connor's voice pulls me back. "You gonna help with this head or just stare at the house?"
By the time we finish, Maisie declares it the best snowman in the history of snowmen. Connor takes a dozen photos, then glances at his watch.
“Hey, Lucy's helping me at the Christmas market this afternoon. You should come. Two o'clock?”
I should say no. Should find an excuse.
Connor's words from yesterday echo in my head.She deserves someone who can be here. Someone stable who can give her everything she wants.
'Yeah,' I hear myself say. “I'll be there.”
***
The Christmas market is chaos. Main Street is blocked off for vendors. White tents line both sides. The air smells like roasted chestnuts and mulled cider.
I find Lucy's booth near the town square. She's talking to an older woman, her smile bright.
Then she sees me.
The smile changes. Heats.
"Mrs. Henderson, this is Ryder Blackwood."
Mrs. Henderson's eyes light up. "The hockey player! My grandson is a big fan."
Lucy packages books while Mrs. Henderson talks. I sign a napkin when she asks. But I'm tracking Lucy's movements. The sway of her hips. The way she bites her lip when she concentrates.
Between customers, she catches my eye. "You didn't have to come."
"Connor asked me to help."
"But I know you hate crowds."
A man approaches. Mid-thirties, gym build, expensive jacket. He zeroes in on me.
"Holy shit. Ryder Blackwood?"
I tense. "That's me."
"Dude, I'm a huge fan. Can I get a picture?"
