Page 58 of Hometown Heart

I stared at the words, pulse quickening, and then pressed send before I could reconsider.

The message status shifted from "Sending" to "Delivered," then almost immediately to "Read." Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared as if Jack, too, was weighing his response with careful consideration.

Finally, a reply materialized:

Jack:Come over.

Two words. Simple. Direct.

I locked the café door behind me. The February air bit at my exposed skin as I stepped onto the sidewalk,

Overhead, stars punctured the velvet darkness, their ancient light reaching me across impossible distances. I wondered how something so distant could feel so present and so important to understanding where I stood.

I turned toward Harbor Street, toward Jack's house with its weathered blue siding and wraparound porch. I was heading toward something unknown but increasingly necessary, like oxygen, daylight, or the sea itself.

Chapter sixteen

Jack

The last piece of lasagna sat abandoned on Cody's plate, a testament to my overly large portion sizes. I gathered the dishes while he finished his milk, leaving a white mustache along his upper lip. He wiped it away with his sleeve instead of the napkin sitting inches away.

"Homework finished?" I asked, sliding the plates into soapy water.

"Almost." Cody slouched against his chair. "Just have to finish reading that chapter for English. It's about this kid who finds a stray dog, but the dog keeps running away, and the kid has to decide whether to keep chasing it or let it go."

"Sounds complicated for fifth grade."

"That's what I said!" He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ms. Gardner says it's about themes and metaphors and junk. I just think the kid should build a better fence."

I laughed, appreciating his practical approach to literary problems. "Maybe there's a lesson in that, too."

Cody was about to respond when his phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen.

"Can I take this?" he asked, already rising from his chair.

"Sure, bud."

He moved toward the living room, his voice dropping as he answered. "Hello?"

I continued washing dishes, the warm water swirling around my hands as I scrubbed, but I couldn't stop being curious about the call. Cody's tone was softer with a note of formality he didn't use when he spoke to his friends.

"Yeah, we won. I scored twice." A pause. "No, I'm using the new stick. The composite one." Another pause, longer this time. "Actually, I'm playing center now. Coach Rory says my passing is getting better."

The dish soap bottle slipped from my fingers, hitting the sink with a dull thud. I knew the conversation pattern. Cody expressed subtle pride in sharing accomplishments. I'd heard it countless times during those initial, awkward post-separation phone calls.

"I miss you too, Dad."

The words hung in the air between the kitchen and living room. Four simple syllables that sent ice water cascading up my spine. I gripped the edge of the counter, fingers pressing into the cold laminate as Cody's conversation continued, now too quiet for me to hear.

Five minutes stretched into an eternity before Cody wandered back into the kitchen, phone clutched loosely in his hand.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "He just wanted to know how hockey's going."

"Edward called about hockey?"

Cody nodded, seemingly oblivious to my tension. "He saw that picture I posted from the Camden game and said my form looked good." He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, examining it closely. "He wants to catch a game sometime."

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