“I’m good,” he interrupted my internal fixing of everyone else’s problems.
“Good,” I replied, then sipped my coffee, which was only mildly warm.
“How is the Christmas Parade planning going?” The Haynes family was responsible for planning the parade, and I knew all four of the brothers got involved. It was a family tradition going back generations to the original Haynes who’d founded this town alongside the Buchanans. Our families went way back, and tradition was important.
“It’s all on track.”
“And what about your jewelry stall on the artist’s market? Are you doing that this year again?”
“Yes.”
Now I was getting desperate. “It’s cold in here.”
“The repairman is coming out on Monday to fix the heating. You’re a long way from the heater,” he pointed out.
“Don’t you get cold when you’re working?”
“I’m by the heater.”
“Oh.”
Jeez, this was some scintillating conversation. I shuffled toward his heater and unzipped my coat. Of course, this put me nearer to Bailey, which was both a good and bad thing. From there, I could stare right into his gray eyes and read every expression in them, but also, I was close enough to touch him, and if I did that, then I might hug him, or kiss him, or fall to my knees and beg him not to shut me out, and all of that wouldn’t end well.
“I’m working,” he warned as he shifted back from me a little, then gestured to a pile of colored stones on the second counter. It wasn’t a huge space he had, most of it taken up by counters and cupboards under, plus the heater and large boxes on one surface. On the other, the one we were next to, was a workstation, complete with lamps, magnifying glasses, and a tumbled pile of small tins. This was where he created his beautiful jewelry, and I only knew that because Brooke had told me that Callum had been worried when Bailey had moved from home on his twenty-first birthday. She worried that loneliness was a real thing the entire family should’ve been commenting on. I didn’t think that being alone made Bailey lonely—he had always struck me as a man who preferred his own company, but how well did I know the adult Bailey? I’d observed him at family events, falling deeper under his quiet spell, I even talked to him, but did I really know if the last year living there on his own was a boon to his quiet soul, or was it something that dragged him down?
I clung to the fact that he’d mentioned his work, and that was a connection I could make. Life was all about finding connections, and I wanted to know more.
“Can I watch?” I was curious to see him transform the stones and metal into something beautiful.
“God, no,” he snapped, and then looked shocked at himself.
I held up a hand. “Sorry, Sorry.”
He huffed. “But I’ll be in the Christmas market from the end of next week, if you decide to come back to town again, you can watch me do my demonstrations.” His jaw was tight, and I could see that wasn’t easy for him to say.
“Oh, I’m not leaving at all, well not for a long time; did you not see the family chat?”
“It said you were staying a while.”
“I’m actually moving back to town.”
“Between games? That’s an impossible commute. What about hockey?” Bailey sounded shocked.
Oh god, he went there, and I sipped my coffee to give myself time. What did I do? I wanted to talk to him, so there was no point in hiding things that would help him see me as something other than an idiot. The words were stuck in my throat. Why couldn’t I just say that I had retired? That would explain my breakdown in the summer, it would help him understand the meds and the beer, and the fact I was an idiot because I was tired, and I didn’t know what to do.
His opinion mattered. He mattered so much. It hit me like a sledgehammer that I wanted to kiss him as he stood in front of me—my dreams made real. The thought stole my breath, and I sat on the stool behind me, the sudden weight of everything I needed to say to him too heavy to handle standing up.
His eyes widened at the crash of the stool sliding back and hitting the wall, but he didn’t say anything, simply stared at me as if he were searching for something.
“I’ve retired.” The words sounded cautious in my head because he was the first person outside the team and my agent who would hear me admit I was done.
“What?” He stood straight, and I didn’t have to know him as well as I did to see the open shock. “Are you ill?” He took a step toward me, and where before there had been reticence, he now appeared to be concerned and fearful. “Lucas said you weren’t with the team in Dallas, is something wrong—?”
“I haven’t told Dad or Brooke yet,” I interrupted. “But I’m okay, it was time.”
Compassion flooded Bailey’s expression. “But hockey was everything you ever wanted.”
“Not everything,” I finally admitted the truth that had taken me so long to admit. “Not since last summer, or before, even last Christmas. Not for a long time.”
Bailey was so confused, but he couldn’t know that I meant the way I was in love with him. I’d been in town for Christmas Eve last year, leaving early on Christmas Day, but I’d been there for Bailey’s birthday, which fell on Christmas Eve. I’d always seen Bailey as something special, someone to be cherished, but I’d never thought I’d get to love him. Only it happened. In one single moment of clarity, last Christmas Eve it hit me that I knew that Bailey Haynes was worth more than hockey, and yet, when I should have told him, I still hadn’t done anything about it.
“Even last Christmas, I was in the middle of it all, my wrist, the team, wanting to retire, but feeling as if I was letting the team down, and then wrist surgery happened, and then last summer happened…” I shrugged because there was so much to explain, but it wasn’t right to dump it all on Bailey first.
“Why didn’t you just tell us? We all would have understood, we could have helped.”
“I couldn’t, I didn’t know how to start.” I didn’t have an answer, so I changed the subject. “Brooke said you’re inundated with commissions for your work.”
Bailey blinked at the quick switch in conversation. “She did?” He seemed quieter then, turning his back to me and facing the bench currently holding a project that looked like a necklace made of shells. Was that even a thing? I peered closer and saw that the shells were whole, but that he was taking tiny flecks from them and doing something clever with metal and the rounded samples. “I’m busy enough now that I can pick and choose the things I want to work on,” he admitted.
I smiled at his back. “I love your work.” He glanced at me. “Can you show me what you’re working on?”
He half turned, sipped the coffee, and appeared to be contemplating my request. “It’s boring, if you’re not into it.”
I huffed a laugh at the self-deprecating tone. “So is hockey.” All I wanted to do was make him smile—I loved his smile—but he was still in shock. “Imagine all that rushing about on skates, crashing and banging, and all for a tiny disc of rubber.”
“But you loved it, and I can’t understand why—”