"I don't know. Maybe."
"That's sad. I liked Miss Lucy."
"Me too, kid. Me too."
Emma skated away, and Jake felt the familiar ache in his chest. Two months. Lucy had been gone two months. He should be over this by now. Should have moved on.
Instead, he was still checking his phone constantly, hoping for a text that never came. Still sleeping on one side of the bed like Lucy might appear on the other. Still ordering six pork buns every Wednesday even though he lived alone and couldn't possibly eat them all.
"You need a distraction," Marcus said at lunch one day. "A hobby. A woman. Something."
"I'm not dating anyone."
"I'm not saying date. I'm saying go out. Be social. Remember you're a person with interests beyond hockey and missing Lucy."
"What if I don't have interests beyond that?"
"Then develop some. Jake, I say this with love—you're wallowing. And wallowing is only attractive for like two weeks max. After that, it's just sad."
"I'm not wallowing. I'm processing."
"You're wallowing. Come out tonight. The team's getting drinks at Mac's. You should be there. First season as head coach—you need to bond with your players."
Jake didn't want to go. Wanted to go home and watch old westerns and feel sorry for himself.
But Marcus was right. He was the head coach now. He had responsibilities.
"Fine. I'll come."
"Good. And Jake? Maybe try smiling. It won't kill you."
That night at Mac's Tavern, Jake made an effort. He talked to his players, bought a round of drinks, even laughed at Owen's terrible jokes. It felt like wearing a mask, pretending to be okay when he wasn't.
But maybe that was what being an adult meant. Pretending until the pretending became real.
Around 10 PM, Mrs. Henderson appeared at their table. "Jake Morrison. I need to talk to you."
"Mrs. Henderson. Hi. What can I do for you?"
"You can tell me how to get in touch with Lucy. I've been trying to email her and she's not responding."
Jake felt his stomach clench. "I don't know. We're not—we're not in touch anymore."
"What? Why not?"
"Because she's in Paris building her career and I'm here. We broke up."
Mrs. Henderson looked genuinely distressed. "But you two were perfect for each other! Everyone said so!"
"I guess everyone was wrong."
"Nonsense. Lucy loved you. She was just scared—scared of giving up her dreams, scared of being trapped like she was with the bakery. But she'll come around. She just needs time."
"It's been two months. I think if she was going to come around, she would have by now."
"Two months is nothing! Your grandmother and I had a fight once that lasted three years. Three years! And then one day she just showed up at my door and said 'I forgive you' and that was that. We were friends again."
Despite himself, Jake smiled. "That's a nice story, Mrs. Henderson. But Lucy and I didn't fight. We just—want different things."
