Page 2 of Hometown Heart

"Family recipe. Can't have boring marshmallows in coastal Maine."

"New York ones are all boring. We should come here every morning before weekend practice! Right, Dad? It's on the way to the rink and—"

"We'll see." Jack pulled out his wallet while reaching for his coffee.

I waved him off. "First visit's on the house. Welcome to Whistleport."

Jack hesitated. "We couldn't—"

"Dad, that's so nice! Thank you, Mr. Silas!"

"Just Silas," I corrected. "Mr. Silas makes me sound like I should be teaching algebra. And I was terrible at math."

Jack's eyes met mine for a second longer this time. "Silas, then. Thank you."

The bell above the door jingled again. Rory Blake strode in, cheeks flushed from the wind. He stopped short at the sight of Cody's jersey.

"You must be Cody St. Pierre."

Cody stood a little straighter, practically bouncing. "Are you Coach Blake? I mean—yes, sir!"

"Coach is fine." Rory grinned, then turned to Jack. "You met with Brooks yesterday?"

Jack nodded. "He's been very helpful."

Cody turned to me. "Did you know there's a real-life NHL player here?"

I nodded. "He sat two seats behind me in high school biology."

Rory smirked. "I'm sure Brooks covered everything, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Fair warning—he's running drills this morning that had me sore for days back when we played together."

Jack's grip on his coffee cup relaxed slightly. Cody, however, was all enthusiasm.

"Speaking of which," Rory checked his watch, "practice starts in fifteen. Coming, Cody? I'll show you where the locker room is."

Cody looked to Jack, who nodded. "Go ahead. I'll bring your stick."

Cody shoved his empty cup at me. "Thanks for the hot chocolate and the marshmallows and—"

"Go," Jack chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "I'll bring your hat too. I think you left it in the car."

The door chimed as Rory led Cody out, a gust of cold air curling into the café. Jack lingered, his fingers tightening briefly around the hockey stick before adjusting his grip.

"He's a good kid," I said.

Jack's lips curved into something more genuine this time. "He is. Makes everything worth it."

The affection was unmistakable. A bond built on a solid, unshakable foundation.

"If you want to fit in around here, the hockey part's a good choice. Nothing brings this town together like the rink."

Jack nodded. "That's what we're hoping." He turned to leave, then paused, letting the hockey stick lean against his body. "You know, this is his third stick in two months."

I waited, sensing he had more to say.

"The first one he left at Edward's—his other dad's—place in New York. The second..." Jack's voice softened. "He broke it the day Edward canceled their weekend. Said he was too busy with his new—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Sorry. You don't need our whole story."

The morning light caught the silver in his hair, and for a moment, I saw what Cody's face must have looked like when that stick broke. "Sometimes the story needs somewhere to go," I said quietly. "Might as well be here."

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