Page 36 of Hometown Heart

While Cody greeted me, the oven timer chimed, and Jack pulled out a golden-brown aromatic chicken. Cody darted around, gathering last-minute items for his overnight bag while sharing rapid-fire commentary about Tyler's new sports app.

"Dad, can I go now? Tyler's dad said he'd show us game footage from when he played in college, and—"

"After dinner," Jack put his foot down, but he had a smile on his face. "Finish setting the table please."

"Shannon said she'd feed him," Jack mentioned as he carved the chicken with practiced strokes. "I'm sure she'll have something great, but I figured it would be good to make sure he eats something that isn't pure sugar before sending him out into the cold."

Cody rolled his eyes. "Tyler's mom makes really good shepherd's pie."

"And how many bowls of popcorn are you planning to eat while watching hockey videos?"

"That's different. That's strategic fueling."

I laughed. "Where'd you learn that phrase?"

"Coach Blake says it all the time." Cody stabbed a green bean with his fork. "He tells us proper nutrition is key to athletic performance."

"Proper nutrition, huh?" Jack raised an eyebrow at his son's loaded plate. "Is that why you pushed all your vegetables to one side?"

Their banter was as charmingly domestic as a worn family quilt. I took a bite of chicken and nearly forgot how to speak—it was perfectly seasoned, crispy-skinned, and the meat practically melted on my tongue.

"This is incredible."

Jack shrugged. "Only a basic roast chicken. Though I did steal the herb blend recipe from my grandmother."

"Nothing basic about it." I speared another piece. "Pretty sure this beats anything I learned in culinary school."

"High praise from a professional."

"Coffee's different. This is..." I gestured with my fork. "This is home cooking. It's the real thing."

Cody's phone buzzed.

"That's Tyler! His dad's here to pick me up." He was already halfway out of his chair. "Can I go? Please?"

Jack nodded. "Grab your bag. I'll walk you out."

I watched through the window as Jack spoke briefly with Tyler's father, their conversation punctuated by little clouds of breath forming in the air. Cody continued to talk a mile a minute, turning back and forth between them.

When Jack returned, he reached for my plate. "More chicken?"

"Please, and I might need that recipe for the herb blend, too."

"Family secret." He smiled playfully. "You'll have to keep coming back."

When we had finished, Jack cleared the plates with quiet efficiency, stacking them beside the sink. "Coffee?"

"Always." I watched him measure beans into a grinder that had seen better days. "I hope you don't mind that I'm kind of particular about my brew method."

Jack pulled slightly mismatched mugs from a cabinet. "I think I can handle the pressure."

Outside, snow continued to fall, muffling the world beyond the windows. Jack worked his French press with surprising skill, and I found myself studying his hands—steady, confident, like everything else about him.

"You know what you're doing with that."

"Edward was even pickier about coffee than you are." The words came easily, without the weight they might have carried weeks ago. "I learned fast."

Jack's willingness to speak openly about his ex unlocked a similar door for me. The conversation was casual, and he sounded comfortable delivering basic facts. I decided to do the same.

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