Page 74 of Conrad

“You are not a mess. You’re smart, and brave, and a man would be crazy not to fall in love with you.”

Yeah, he’d said that. And now she lifted her eyes to him. “I told you not to fall for me.”

Too late, maybe.

She smiled.

He narrowed his eyes, let go of the bottle.

She opened it, took a swig. Then picked up a gummy worm and wiggled it at him. Laughed.

The sound was fairy dust, turning the room magical after the darkness had descended.

Yes, he was clearly in big trouble.

“What’s so funny?”

“This is my first ever gummy worm.”

He picked one up. “Seriously? I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

She sighed. “All my life, I just wanted to be normal. Only, I didn’t really know what normal might be. That’s why I went to the U of M, why I had a roommate—I lucked out to get Harper. But even then . . . I knew I was different. I just saw the world through a lens of abundance.”

“Maybe that’s the right lens. Maybe abundance isn’t about money but well-being.” He had taken a handful of the Christmas Crunch. “When I was younger, my grandpa had a small sailboat.”

“You mentioned that.”

“He was this great guy. Had spent his entire life in the town of Duck Lake, managing the King’s Inn. He loved to fish and sail and tinker on his antique cars, but on Sunday afternoons, after church, we’d take out the sailboat, just him and me. Sometimes we wouldn’t even talk. He had this life verse—2 Chronicles 15:7. ‘But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.’ It felt so simple.” He sighed. “I wish it was simple.”

“It’s not?”

He considered her. “You look at life as abundant. I look at life as a game with options and plays I should make.”

“And when you get them wrong?”

“I might let it sit in my brain and tangle me up.” He looked at the fire, now crackling, warming the room. “I’d like to figure it out, maybe not spend so much time caught in a power play.”

“A power play?”

“The odds against me, just trying to defend the net.”

She smiled. “Always hockey with you.”

“I’ve been playing hockey since I was two years old and my dad bought me skates. We’d play out on the lake, and there was just something about the camaraderie of competing with my brothers. They got me into organized hockey when I was three?—”

“Wow.”

“I loved it. The game is fast—you gotta be always alert, always looking for holes and opportunities. Like basketball, except on skates. And it’s tough, like football. And teamwork, like soccer.” He lifted his shoulder. “It’s the perfect sport.”

“You still love it, after all these years.”

Her words pinged inside him, swept up the feeling of watching the kids play today. “Yes. I was born to play hockey. I guess that is the one thing I know.”

She smiled at him, her eyes reflecting the fire, her hair down in soft waves, long lashes against her skin, and it hit him.

He could fall for this woman. This woman—the one who ate saltines with him and listened to his life and kept his secret . . .

So perhaps that was two things he knew.

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