Winnie clutches her seat and says, “Soooo . . . this is terrifying.”
We didn’t have to wait in line very long for a gondola ride, and because we were talking so much while waiting for our turn, I don’t think she really gave much thought to how we’d be in a little “cage” as she likes to call it, being held up by a cable above the mountains.
Leaning casually in my seat, arm draped over the back of the bench, I say, “You’re more than welcome to join me over here.”
“If I move, I think the gondola will fall off the cable.”
I chuckle and lean forward, offering her my hand. She takes it and then squeaks with alarm as I tug her to my side of the gondola. She curls against me on the bench, and her hand lands on my chest. I drape my arm over her shoulders and hold her tightly.
“I swear this isn’t a move,” she says.
“A move?” I ask.
“You know, like how you’re in the movie theater and you yawn just so you can drape your arm over your date. I’m not faking how terrified I am so I can get close to you.”
“Are you considering this a date?”
She stiffens beneath my hold and says, “Oh, no, I wasn’t saying it like that. I don’t think this is a date. I fully understand the circumstances of this day.”
Enjoying her discomfort too much, I ask, “And what are the circumstances?”
“Just two friends—”
“We’re friends?”
The wind blows and the gondola slightly sways to the side. She clutches me tighter. “I would like to think we bonded after you dropped me into the mud while we were trying to get Minnie out.”
“I didn’t drop you into the mud.”
She ignores my comment, which makes me secretly smile even harder. “But you know, two new friends going out on the town, learning about each other and buying things, sharing drinks, debating over potato skins and tacos, and then snuggling with each other because we’re both terrified of heights.”
“I never said I was terrified of heights.”
She smooths her hand over my chest. “Shh, Pacey, it’s going to be okay. This cable won’t snap, we won’t fall to our deaths. You have plenty of years left playing your ice sport.”
“Ice sport?” I laugh. “You mean hockey?”
“God, I’m so terrified, I forgot what it was called.”
Sighing, I wrap my arm completely around her and lean my cheek against the top of her head. “These are really safe. I promise we’re going to be okay, and then it’s all going to be worth it when we get to the top.”
“And how long will it take to get to the top?”
“Let’s not focus on that.”
“Okay, what do you want to focus on?” she asks. “And be quick with it, because I’m going to need a distraction.”
“I’m guessing you don’t want the caramel apple right now.”
She shakes her head.
“We’ll save it for the top.” I smooth my hand over her arm reassuringly and ask, “How long are you going to be in Banff?”
“Not really sure. I have to muster the courage to see my uncle, and then after that, I guess I’ll head home.”
“What are you going to do when you get home?”
“Figure out my life. Not sure I want to continue going to school for business. It didn’t interest me. But I don’t know what interests me. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“No. There are plenty of people in the same shoes as you,” I say. “Just because it takes you a little longer to find yourself doesn’t make you pathetic. Remember, we all have our own timelines.”
“And comparison takes the fun out of everything.”
I smile against her hair. “Exactly. But let’s see if we can dive into this a bit. What did you like about working at your mom’s bookstore?”
“I loved the children’s section. That’s where I spent most of my time. I actually started children’s programs at the store.”
“What kind of programs?” I ask as I feel her body start to ease under my touch. Not as stiff as before.
“We had a generously sized children’s book area, but it was in the far back of the bookstore, which always made me laugh, because back in the day, all the dirty novels used to be in the back. But after some older woman chastised Mom for carrying such ‘filth’, Mom decided to rearrange the shelves and brought the ‘filth’ to the front of the store. She started highlighting one of the dirty books every week and called it Filthy Friday. Bosoms were heaving all over covers, and shirtless men claimed their woman with a hand to the back of their neck. It was Mom’s favorite part of the store.”
“I think your mom and I would’ve gotten along very well.”
“I can easily agree with that. She’d have really liked you.” Winnie pauses for a second and then she continues, “So while Mom was dressing up the front of the store with dirty books, I was taking care of the back with all the children’s books. Our neighbor was good with woodworking, so he helped me cut some trees out of wood, and I spent a good portion of my weekend making wooden trees from recycled materials and scattering them throughout the space until it felt like a jungle. In the middle of the jungle, I made a circle-time area, and I would have a theme for the week for story time. I figured out what time worked best for the moms around the neighborhood, and before I knew it, we had a full story time, every day, twice a day. After story time, we did a craft that corresponded with the story. It was . . . it was a lot of fun, and there was something about seeing the connection between the parent and the child enjoying something that felt satisfying. My mom and I loved each other so much, and I saw the same love reflected in others.”
“I can see how that would be very satisfying; bringing joy to others always feels good.”
“I’m sure you have lots of experience with that.”
I move my hand to her waist, easing up on my hold since she seems to be more relaxed now. “There’s a tradition I have, where I toss a practice puck over the wall before every game. While we warm up, I scan the crowd for a kid who I think deserves it, and then I skate over to them and toss it over.”
“How do you pick them out?”
“Depends. Sometimes it’s because of a sign they worked hard on. Sometimes it’s just a feeling I get, that maybe they need this puck to help them believe in something. Sometimes it’s because I can see a sense of failure in a parent, as if they don’t have as much pride as they should, and tossing a puck to their kid would make things that much better. Remember, I’m good at reading people.”
“Yes, I do know that. You’re also good at handling people. I feel very at ease with you, which is so strange, because I felt it right away, as though I knew I was going to be safe with you around.”
“That’s a pretty big compliment,” I say while moving my hand over the scruff of my jaw. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“No, thank you.” She lifts up so our eyes connect, and I get lost in the deep blue of her irises. “This has been a lovely day, and I don’t think I thanked you for lunch. God.” She shakes her head. “I’m so unappreciative.”
“You’re not. I can see that you’re grateful. You don’t have to say thank you.”
“But I should. So, thank you, Pacey. I’m not sure you know how much I needed this, this help. I was really scared to come here, but I did it on a whim anyway. When Minnie got stuck, I was horrified that I had ended up in a really bad situation. But now, I don’t feel quite as alone as I did when I first left Seattle.”
“I’m glad you stumbled into our cabin.”
She leans her head back on my shoulder. We stay like that for the rest of the trip up the mountain, embracing one another, and I feel a deep level of appreciation for her. I’ve not really had many girlfriends over the years. Not had the time. So, I can’t recall the last time I just hung out with a woman like this. Carefree. Relaxed. Content.
And as I pull her a little closer, I realize that I’m not going to want to let go of this girl right away. I know it’s way too early to say anything to her and she’s going through a lot with her mom and her uncle, but Seattle isn’t that far from Vancouver. I would want to see her whenever she decides to leave. We could make something work, that is, if she wants to make something work.
Who knows?
This could be a blip in the road for her, whereas I don’t see it that way. I see it as a fork in the road, and I can either move on once she leaves, or I can follow the path that attempts to date this girl.
It’s an easy choice for me. But will her heart want someone like me?
“THIS ISN’T GOOD,” Winnie says as she attempts to rise from the bench where we chose to sit and share our caramel apple.
“What isn’t good?” I ask.
She slowly stands and then looks me in the eyes. “I’m already starting to get very sore from our workout this morning.”
I can’t help it, I chuckle. “It’s a good sore. Shows that you put in the time.”
“Don’t say that to me tomorrow when I can’t get out of bed.” She picks up our trash and throws it away before coming back to where I’m still sitting on the bench. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying the view,” I answer.
She turns around toward the mountains and says, “Yeah, I think I filled my phone with pictures.”
“I wasn’t talking about that view.”
She glances back at me and then throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, Pacey, I didn’t peg you for being corny.”
I stand from the bench and take her hand in mine. “And what did you peg me as?”
“You know what I thought you were—the ladies’ man of the team.”
“Yeah, and that could not be further from the truth.”
“Oh? Please do elaborate on that.”
Ever since we made it to the top, her spirit has picked up . . . along with her teasing. I like it, a lot.
“You want to know about my sex life?”
“Well, I was referring to dating life, but do those go hand in hand for you?”
“Not much time to date.”
“Oh, right, duh. You’re probably really busy.”
“I meant, to be out on the dating circuit, trying to find someone I match with. If I were already matched up with someone, I’d dedicate time to that relationship.” I just want to make that clear to her. “But going on blind dates and spending time on dating apps? Yeah, I don’t have the energy for that, not after a long-as-fuck travel schedule.”
“So, then, during the season, are you celibate?” she asks.
I chuckle. “This last season I was.” I drive my hand over my head. “Some of the guys will go out to the bar, flash their professional hockey player card, and then take a girl back to the hotel, Posey and Hornsby being at the forefront of that endeavor.”
“Posey?” she asks, surprised. “I never would’ve guessed he does that. Not that there’s anything wrong with going to the bar and bringing someone home, but I just didn’t expect him to even know what sex is. He seems innocent.”
That makes me full-on belly laugh. “Oh, he’s not fucking innocent. Last year he got caught getting a blow job on the bus before we left the hotel.”
“What?” Winnie nearly shouts. “No way. Not Levi.” She shakes her head. “No man who lives and dies for a certain flavor of fudge gets blow jobs on team busses.”
“Think again. He might put on a certain façade, but the dude gets around.”
“And Eli? Does he break hearts?”
We make our way past the sidewalk and to the edge of the summit house. I bring her to the fence. We both lean against it and look out at the expanse of mountains. It’s incredible, a view I’ll never get sick of, seeing peak after peak reaching up to the deep-blue sky.
“Eli might break ideas, but he doesn’t break hearts. He doesn’t ever let anyone get close enough to have their heart broken. But when it comes to the women he’s going to fuck, he lets them know that’s all it’ll ever be. He’s upfront. He’s never lied about his intentions, and you have to appreciate that, because at least he’s not leading anyone on.”
“Yeah, if I were into him, I’d probably appreciate that.”
“So, you’re not into Hornsby?”
She looks over at me and smirks. “No, I like the silent, broody type.” She pauses. “Think Halsey will go out with me?”
My jaw tightens as I look away. “He’s gay, sorry.”
Winnie laughs and pushes at my shoulder. “No, he’s not.”
“In this situation, he is.”
“Okay . . . so what do you think about me and Silas?”
“You trying to get on my nerves?”
Her smile stretches across her face, and even though she’s making me feel like a jealous fuck, I still get lost in the beauty of that smile. “Am I doing a good job?” she asks.
“An excellent job.”
I take her hand and pull her in close so her back is to my chest, we’re both looking out toward the mountains, and I have her pinned between me and the fence. Her head leans back against my shoulder and she says, “I could spend some serious time here.”
“In my arms?” I ask.
She chuckles. “Fishing for compliments, Pacey? I was talking about the summit house.”
“Sure you were. You’re just too shy to admit it.”
“Admit what?” she asks with a teasing tone in her voice.
“That you like me. That’s okay—no need to admit anything. I can see it in your eyes.”
“That sure of yourself?”
“Always.” I lean against her body and say quietly near her ear, “And when I don’t see it in your eyes, I feel it in your body language.”
“And how do I show you with my body language? Because it seems to me that you’re the one who’s been all about the touching and handholding, which leads me to believe you’re the one who likes me.”
“Yeah, I do,” I answer honestly, which seems to stun her, because she doesn’t have a witty comeback. Instead, she turns in my embrace so we’re facing each other.
“Just like that—you’re going to claim it? That you like me?” She studies me. “I have a hard time believing that.”
My brow draws forward. “Why do you have a hard time believing that?”
“Because you’re . . . well, you’re Pacey Lawes. We’re on different levels. I’m lost, have absolutely no future, a dwindling bank account, and a car stuck in a ditch in the mountains. I don’t see what I could possibly offer that you don’t already have or could get from someone in a better position than me.”
“Do you really think that little of yourself?” I ask. “Do you really not see what you offer?”
“I don’t see what I offer to you,” she says. “Trust me, I realize I’ve been living in a little fantasy world the last couple of days and I understand it’ll come to an end quicker than it started. I know I’m fun and interesting right now, but that will wear off.” She frees herself from my embrace and starts to walk toward the gondola. “I don’t even know what I was thinking, allowing myself to spend this day with you. Seems ridiculous, if you actually think about it.”
“What are you talking about? Hey, hold up,” I say while grabbing her hand and stopping her before she gets in line for the gondola to head back down the mountain. “What’s happening?”
“Realized I’m acting like a fool.” She lets out a deep breath. “Yes, Pacey, I like you. It’s obvious, I can’t hide it, but there’s no point in doing anything past today. I’ll be leaving soon. My car could be towed tomorrow if it doesn’t rain tonight.”
“But you don’t have to leave right away. You can stay longer.”
“It’s not your house. You can’t decide that. It’s already awkward with Silas. I don’t want to make it even more awkward by staying when I don’t have to.”
“But where are you going to go? You don’t have any lodging.” Panic starts to consume me. She’s a flight risk. Once she gets her car back, I have a feeling she’ll up and leave, because she’ll feel as if it’s the right time for her to go. And, yes, she said she wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but I don’t want her to think she needs to leave, not yet.
“I’ll figure it out.” She heads toward the short line for the gondola again, and I follow her. Even though I want to pull her out of line and stay on the mountain longer, people have begun to recognize me and are pointing me out to their companions, and I don’t want to cause a scene.
Instead, once our turn comes, we get into a gondola. After the door closes and we’re on our way, I turn to face her head-on and ask, “Why don’t you let me help you?”
“Help me with what?”
“Find out what you should be doing, what your next chapter is.”
“Why would you do that?” she asks, her hands gripping the bench tightly as the gondola rocks. I want to pull her into my embrace again, but I also want to talk to her, see her facial reactions, let her see how serious I am.
“Because . . .” I say, the words on the tip of my tongue, but my nerves are shaking from the abrupt one-eighty of our conversation.
“Because why?” she asks.
I pull on the back of my neck. “Because I’m not ready to say goodbye.” I look her in the eyes. “I like you, Winnie. I like hanging out with you. You have nothing pressing to get back to, and you’re trying to figure out what you’re going to do now. Instead of running back home, why don’t you find yourself in the place your mom was born? And let me help you, because despite what you might think, I’m invested now, and I’m not going to let you just walk away as if the last few days haven’t been special.” I scoot forward on the bench and reach for her hand. “I’m telling you right now—I don’t feel this kind of connection with people, but the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you and I needed to find out what it is.” When she looks down, I force her to look at me again. “I’m not ready to say goodbye, and I hope you’re not ready either.”
Her teeth roll over her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “I’m not.”
Relief floods me. I can’t be sure why this girl seems so special to me, so important, or why our connection is so strong, but what I do know is that I need more time to figure it all out.
“So, then you’ll stay?”
“Silas—”
“Let me worry about him, okay?” She stays silent, so I add, “He’s going through a rough time. Who knows—maybe you can help him.”
She perks up. “Could you imagine? Wouldn’t that be a turn of events?”
“One I’d be interested in watching.”
“How much longer are you here for?” Winnie asks.
“I was set for a month, but I can come and go as I please. Taters really doesn’t care, even though he likes to act like he does.”
“I think Katherine and Max would kill me if I was gone that long.”
“I’m not saying you have to stay for a month, just . . . stay a little longer. From what you’ve said, it sounds as though you’ve been carrying a heavy heart for a long time. Maybe you take this time to just breathe. To take a second for yourself. We all need those breaks. It’s why we come up here, to just step away and recharge.”
She nods. “I like that. Recharge.”
“Recharge in the place where your mom was born. Reconnect. And who knows?” I smirk. “Maybe you hang out with a hot hockey player while you do it.”
“I do enjoy Eli’s company.” She can’t hold back her smile as her eyes meet mine.
“Such a fucking ball-buster.”
She laughs and I pull her over to my bench. I drape my arm over her shoulder and keep her close. She rests her head against my chest and we travel down the mountain together like this.
I have no idea what’s going to happen, but at least I have the knowledge that this girl isn’t going anywhere any time soon. And for the first time in a week, I don’t feel the same pressing pain at being knocked out of the playoffs. I feel a purpose. Because maybe Winnie Berlin needs someone to help her not only recharge, but move toward her final destination. And maybe that destination will include me.
