Page 53 of Hometown Heart

I couldn't walk away from him.

I shut off the water, clarity settling over me. Whatever Silas's fears and whatever complications lay ahead, one thing remained certain: what we'd started between us deserved a chance.

The sound of Shannon's minivan pulling into my driveway spurred me into action. I dressed quickly, running a hand through my damp hair as I headed downstairs to greet my son.

Cody burst through the door like a tornado in human form, hockey bag swinging wildly from one shoulder, hair sticking up in at least six different directions.

"Dad! Dad! Tyler's dad showed us footage from when he played in college; it was so cool! They won the championshipthat year, and he said my goal yesterday was better than anything he ever did." He paused, finally drawing breath, his eyes taking in my damp hair and the coffee mug I'd just poured. "Were you still sleeping? It's so late!"

"Not exactly." I ruffled his already chaotic hair. "Just took a shower. How was your night?"

"Epic!" He dropped his bag with a thud that reverberated through the floorboards. "We stayed up watching hockey videos until midnight, and Mrs. MacPherson made these amazing pancakes this morning with chocolate chips shaped like hockey pucks!"

Shannon appeared in the doorway, her expression a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "They actually went to sleep around ten, but don't tell him I ruined the midnight myth." She handed me a container. "Leftover pancakes. The chocolate chips are mini Oreos cut in half."

"Thanks for having him," I said, accepting the container. "Hope he wasn't too much trouble."

"Please. Tyler talks about nothing but Cody and hockey these days." She smiled warmly. "They're good for each other."

After Shannon left, Cody continued his energetic recounting of every moment spent at the MacPhersons', from the hockey videos to the impromptu mini-stick tournament in the basement to Tyler's cat Max stealing a pancake directly off his plate.

I listened, nodding in all the right places, but my thoughts drifted back to Silas—the uncertainty in his eyes when I'd left and the quiet tension in his shoulders.

"Dad?" Cody's voice cut through my distraction. "Are you okay?"

I blinked, focusing on my son's face. His expression had shifted from excitement to concern, his eyebrows drawing together in a way that made him look suddenly older than his ten years.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm thinking about things."

"What kind of things?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to share and how to translate the complexity of adult relationships into something a ten-year-old could understand. But Cody had always been perceptive, especially when it came to the emotional currents running beneath the surface of our lives.

"People stuff. Grown-up stuff."

He momentarily considered my comment, absently pulling off his socks and dropping them on the floor beside his bag. "Is it about Silas?"

The directness of the question caught me off guard. "What makes you ask that?"

Cody shrugged. "You look at him different. And he looks at you different, too." He paused, considering. "Plus, Brooks told Rory that he thought you guys were... you know."

"Brooks said what?" I nearly choked on my coffee.

"He didn't know I was listening," Cody admitted, a hint of mischief in his expression. "I was tying my skate under the bench."

I made a mental note to have a conversation with Brooks about appropriate rink-side discussions.

"I like it when Silas is around," Cody continued, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. "He makes things feel... I don't know. Like they fit."

It was a simple but powerful observation.Like they fit.Out of the mouth of a child came the perfect description for what I'd been trying to articulate since meeting Silas.

"Yeah," I said softly. "He does."

I reached for my keys as a decision began to form. "Hey, bud. Change of plans."

Cody looked up from retrieving his discarded socks. "What kind of plans?"

"I need to run an errand. Are you okay with a quick stop before lunch?

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