Page 26 of Hometown Heart

I took a breath. Silas tensed.

His reaction was quick. It wasn't dramatic, but it was clear. He bit his lip, and his muscles locked. Next, he stepped back, not in a dramatic way, but it was a clear pullback.

"See you around, Jack." His voice was even, lacking any emotion.

Silas turned, skated toward the tunnel, and disappeared.

The sounds of the locker room—laughter, the clatter of sticks, and the hiss of showers—drifted toward me, pulling me back to the present.

I followed the others, peeling off my gloves and flexing my fingers. In the locker room, it was easy to blend in. Loud laughter mingled with quieter voices and the sharp smells of sweat and menthol. Half-dressed guys shared stories between towel snaps.

I went through the motions—peeling off my pads, stripping down to my compression gear, and stretching my legs, knowing they'd feel worse in the morning. Brooks was talking shit, something about how Rory's backhand was as useless as his poetry degree.

The guys would have welcomed me jumping in with the back and forth, but my head was still out there on the ice. With Silas.

I rolled my shoulders, forcing myself to focus on untying my skates. I'd touched his arm. That was all. It was a small, passing touch, but it still hit a nerve.

I'd been through enough in my life to understand the message he'd sent. It wasn't surprise or hesitation. It was a wall snappinginto place, like a door slamming shut, before I could glimpse what was inside.

I exhaled, pressing my fingers into my thighs. Nurturing personal drama wasn't the reason I chose Whistleport.

We'd moved for Cody. For stability. For a clean slate and a town where my kid could be a kid, not someone caught in the fallout of a messy divorce while his dads tried to navigate two different versions of parenting.

It was easy to tell myself that, but my mind kept circling back to how Silas moved on the ice. He helped keep me steady without making it a big deal. His laugh was a surprise, and I wanted to hear it again.

Brooks appeared and sat on the bench by me, rubbing a towel over his hair. "You good?"

I blinked. "Yeah. Just beat."

"Uh-huh. Is that why you look like you just lost a staring contest with the boards?"

I shook my head, exhaling through my nose. "It's nothing."

Brooks didn't push. He merely smiled and made it clear he sawsomething.

"Well, next week, we'll work on getting you an actual shot on the net instead of straight into the goalie's glove."

I scoffed. "I'd like to seeyoublock a shot from a ten-year-old sniper on a driveway."

"Ah, yes. The hotshot son taking over the family legacy by schooling his dad."

I flipped him off without looking up.

He laughed and clapped my shoulder before heading off to find the rest of his clothes, and I exhaled.

I finished dressing, pulling on my hoodie, and running a hand through my hair. The last few guys trickled out as I packed up my gear. The cold would hit hard when I stepped outside, but I looked forward to welcoming it.

I needed the air. It would help settle my thoughts.

When I stepped into the parking lot, I scanned instinctively. Silas was gone, of course. I clenched my jaw, adjusting the gear bag strap on my shoulder, and then headed for the car.

I told myself it was fine. Everything was fine.

I climbed into my SUV, turned the key, and let the heater kick in. I rubbed my palms together, exhaling hard. I came to Whistleport to start fresh and build something steady. So, why the hell did it feel like I was skating straight toward something uncertain?

Chapter nine

Silas

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