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She lifted one shoulder. “Well, at some point, your happiness depends on a choice. You can either find happiness alone or you can put your heart out there and try to find it with someone else.”
Giving her hand a shake, I looked into her soulful brown eyes. “Did you make a choice?”
She looked over at Sam. “I already gave my heart away, half to my son and half to a man who took his half with him to the grave. I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.”
Emotion threatened to choke me. “Everything could be gone in a flash. But taking a leap, having faith that together you can get there and love? That’s scary as hell.”
She chuckled and looped her arm around mine. “Yep. But look at the couples heading down to the rink.”
I watched the girls pair up with their guys and my eyes widened.
Harmony smiled. “So, what about you? How’s your story going to end?”
As we strode down the hallway after the other women, I thought about their words of wisdom. Their list of ways Ransom already showed how much he cared about me. Could a man really care that much about me and burnout after one night together? It didn’t seem likely. If he really felt as strongly as he did, then maybe becoming a couple would be a natural progression of our relationship.
As the Cavaliers and Raptors suited up in basic pads to play a friendly game, I saw Molly head to the player’s box barking orders for warm-ups. Harmony went ahead to find a seat with the rest of the girls while I stayed at the end of the rink watching from afar.
“She’s quite a force,” an older woman said from behind me.
Spinning, I saw an impeccably dressed woman with white hair twisted into an elaborate updo. It was Abagail Litchfield, owner of the Cavaliers.
I nodded. “Indeed, she is.”
She joined me resting at the boards. “It appears you have quite the appeal yourself, Ms. Garrison.”
I felt my lips twitch as I almost smiled. “I think it has more to do with Molly. She’s well-known and well-loved.”
We stood together in friendly silence, watching the guys kneel before Molly when she spoke, then push up and go through their drills. Then, when Molly had them warmed up and spot-checked a few issues, the guys divided up with some Raptors and some Cavaliers on each team. As the friendly game began, something happened to the guys. Something magical. They were having fun and it showed. There was a spring in their pivots. A delight in their turns. A fun banter in the way they stopped short spraying ice at each other. But a cleanliness in the way they accomplished their goals.
“Well, I’ll be,” Abagail said. “They don’t do that for Darren.”
I shook my head. “No, they don’t. That, right there? That’s all Molly.”
Abagail gave me a nod. “I’m glad you wrote the article, Ms. Garrison. We women have to stick together.”
I gave her a curt nod in return and refocused my attention on the game. When I felt her leave, I glanced around to confirm. Smirking at the significance of that short exchange, I hoped it meant we’d have a good answer for the team in the next couple of days.
* * *
The moment Ransom stopped his truck in the garage, I dashed inside. I quickly wiped my feet on the rug, then raced to the small fake Christmas tree we put on the coffee table a couple nights ago. I grabbed the gift bag for him and shoved it at him.
The door slammed behind Ransom. With every clomp of his boots, my heart skipped a beat. I was really doing this.
Taking the bag, he pulled the tissue off one book, pulling out the Emily Dickenson book. He looked up at me.
I turned to the table of contents. “This poem, ‘Hope’ and it having feathers, it was made for us, don’t you think?”
I gave him a chance to go to the page and scan through the poem.
My breath came out in little puffs. I hoped I was just having an attack of the heart and not a heart attack. “And there’s one about faith too. See?”
When Ransom looked up at me, his eyes were warm with affection.
Then he pulled out the second book, Bridge to Terabithia and he gasped.
Amazed at Getty’s unbelievable choice, I almost missed Ransom’s horror. “What? This is perfect!”
“She dies at the end!” he roared.
