Page 41 of The Man in the Cottage

I think about it. There are a lot of things I haven't told anyone—things about my family, my career, the mess inside my head that I've never been able to sort out. But one thing rises to the surface, something I've been thinking about since last night.

"I don't know if I want to go back," I say.

"Back where?"

"To hockey. The team wants me back. My suspension is almost over, and they want me to come in for practice, see how it goes. But I keep putting off the decision because I don't know if that's what I want anymore."

Kelly frowns. "I thought hockey was your whole life."

"It was. It is. I don't know." I run a hand through my hair. "When I was playing, I never thought about anything else. It was just—get up, train, play, sleep, repeat. The structure made sense. I knew who I was and what I was supposed to do."

He looks away before starting again.

"I've been away for six months, and I've had time to think. About what I want. About who I am when I'm not on the ice." I look at her. "Being here, with you—it's the first time in years I've felt like a person instead of a player. I don't know if I'm ready to give that up."

She reaches across the table and puts her hand over mine. Her fingers are warm, her touch light.

"You don't have to decide tonight," she says.

"I know."

"And whatever you decide, it doesn't change anything. Between us, I mean."

I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through hers. "You mean that?"

"I mean that." She squeezes my hand. "I didn't fall for Travis Howe the hockey player. I fell for the guy who fixed my sink and made me laugh and looked at me like I was worth something. That's who I want. The rest is just details."

Something loosens in my chest. Something I've been holding tight for months, maybe years.

"You fell for me?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

Maria appears with bread and olive oil and a knowing smile. "You two are very cute," she says. "I approve."

"Thank you, Maria."

"Now eat. You're too skinny. Both of you."

We eat. The food is as good as I remembered—fresh pasta, homemade sauce, bread that's still warm from the oven. We talk about everything and nothing. Her book, my suspension, the house, the town, the places we've been and the places we want to go. It's easy in a way I didn't expect. Like now that there are no more secrets, we can finally just be ourselves.

At some point I realize I'm happy. Actually happy, in a way I haven't been in a long time. Sitting in this crowded restaurant with this woman who knows the worst thing I've ever done and chose to be here anyway.

I don't know what happens next. I don't know if I'm going back to hockey or staying in Longshore or something else entirely. But for the first time in months, the uncertainty doesn't feel like a weight. It feels like possibility.

"What are you thinking about?" Kelly asks.

"Nothing," I say. "Everything."

She laughs. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

She kicks me under the table, gently, and I catch her foot between mine, holding it there. She doesn't pull away.

"I'm glad you asked me out," she says.