Page 28 of Hometown Heart

My phone felt heavy in my hand as I pulled up Jack's contact. There was no profile picture, only his name and the coffee cup emoji Sarah had added when she programmed it in. I started typing, "You free? Got something to show you," but I didn't hit send, not yet.

Simple words. They could have meant anything, but we both would have known they meant something more.

The arena doors burst open, spilling out noise and pre-teen energy. Cody and Tyler emerged first, hockey bags bouncing against their legs as they acted out what must have been an epic save from practice. Their laughter carried across the parking lot, clear and uncomplicated.

Jack followed, deep in conversation with Rory and Brooks. He had a focused expression, one hand gesturing as he made some point about hockey strategy.

Brooks spotted me first. That was no surprise. Nothing got past him, especially an old friend sitting in a parking lot having an existential crisis. A knowing smirk that spread across his face told me he'd already figured out precisely what was happening.

I could have started the truck, backing out slowly and pretending I was only passing through, admiring my hometown's dedication to hockey. Instead, I opened the door, gravel crunching under my boots as I stepped out.

There was no plan. No script I'd been rehearsing. There was only the weight of that unsent text message and the antique case in my truck that I couldn't wait to share with others.

Brooks was already peeling away from the rest of the crowd, heading straight for me with the practiced glide that had made him famous on the ice. It was the same walk that used to clear paths through our high school hallways.

"Well, well," he called out, closing the distance between us. "If it isn't the one person in Whistleport who never takes a day off, taking a day off."

Behind him, Jack had noticed me, too. Our eyes met across the parking lot, and all my carefully constructed reasons for being present dissolved like sugar in hot coffee.

Brooks reached me before I could figure out what to say. "So," he said, voice low enough that only I could hear, "you gonna tell me what's in the truck, or do I have to guess why you're lurking outside the arena on your first personal day in forever?"

"Not lurking," I muttered, though Brooks's raised eyebrow suggested he disagreed. "I'm... thinking."

"At the exact moment Jack's picking up Cody from practice?" Brooks leaned against my truck, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Come on, Si. We've known each other too long for this."

I glanced over his shoulder. Jack was still talking to Rory, but his attention kept drifting our way.

"Found an old display case up in Camden." That part was an easy confession. "Thought it might work for the café."

Brooks pushed off the truck and walked around to the bed, letting out a low whistle when he saw it. "Nice piece. It needs a little work, though."

"Yeah."

"Kind of like some other things I could mention."

I shot him a look. "Come on."

"Hey, I'm just saying." He held up his hands. "You drove all the way to Camden, bought some furniture you're going to spend weeks restoring, and just happened to end up here instead of taking it straight to Tidal Grounds?"

Put that way, my actions did sound ridiculous. Brooks had more to say.

"You know what this reminds me of?" He rapped his knuckles against the wood. "It makes me think of that summer you spent restoring a counter in an old bait shop. You told skeptic after skeptic that it was going to work."

"That was different."

"Was it?" Brooks's voice turned serious. "I remember you being scared as hell then, too, but you did it anyway."

The arena doors opened again, spilling out more players. Cody's voice carried across the parking lot: "Dad! Can we get hot chocolate?"

Jack's response was lost in the general noise, but he gestured in the direction of Tidal Grounds.

Brooks clapped me on the shoulder. "You want help loading this into the shop?"

I hesitated, watching Jack gather his things. He moved with such certainty, like someone who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. Someone who wasn't afraid to say he wouldn't chase something that wasn't real.

"Actually, I've got a better idea."

Brooks raised an eyebrow as I pulled out my phone and finally hit send on that text. It was the one that had been sitting there with the cursor blinking like a challenge.

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