Page 61 of Hometown Heart

"I told him we should catch a game when he visits. He doesn't really get the new plays Coach Rory taught us. I tried explaining, but it's easier to show him."

My fingers trembled as I set down my coffee cup. Every word from Cody's mouth sounded like distant thunder, warnings of a storm gathering on the horizon.

"I'm glad he's taking an interest in your hockey," I managed.

Cody returned to his phone. "I showed him that picture from the Camden game where I scored. He said my form looked better than last year."

The memory of that game—Cody's triumphant grin as he'd skated back to the bench, the pride swelling in my chest as parents clapped me on the shoulder in congratulations—felt tainted now, knowing Edward had seen it too and commented on it as if he'd been there.

"Hey, Dad? Are you working late today?" Cody asked, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

"No, why?"

"Tyler's mom invited me over. They're having that chicken thing I like."

"Shannon's lemon chicken?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Can I go? I can do homework at their place."

"Sure." The word emerged automatically. "I'll pick you up around eight."

"Cool." He checked the clock, then bolted upright. "We're gonna be late for practice!"

We scrambled to gather his equipment, the morning's rhythm accelerating like a stone rolling downhill. As we drove to the arena, Cody chattered about power play strategies and weekend plans while my thoughts circled relentlessly around one central fear.

I dropped him at the arena entrance, watching as he joined his teammates, immediately falling into step with Tyler. Cody had found his place here—team, friends, and community. The thought of disrupting that, losing any fragment of our carefully constructed new life, was intolerable.

As I pulled away from the curb, I made a decision. I couldn't simply wait for whatever Edward might be planning. I needed advice—I needed to understand my options before any storm broke.

I reached for my phone at the next stoplight, scrolling to a contact I hadn't used in months. It was the divorce lawyer who had guided me through the initial custody agreement. Melissa Winters had been thorough, practical, and unexpectedly compassionate throughout that painful process.

The call connected on the third ring.

"Winters Legal, this is Cassie, how can I help you?"

"This is Jack St. Pierre. I need to speak with Melissa about a custody concern."

"Let me check her availability, Mr. St. Pierre. Can you hold?"

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, watching wispy clouds drift across the harbor.

"Mr. St. Pierre?" Cassie's voice returned. "Ms. Winters can speak with you tomorrow at eleven. Would that work for you?"

"Yes, that's perfect. Thank you."

I ended the call, feeling a peculiar mixture of dread and relief. Taking action, however small, provided some sense of control over the situation. I couldn't predict what Edward might do but could prepare myself. I could gather information and build defenses against the worst.

As I pulled into the Tidal Grounds parking lot, my phone buzzed with a text from Silas:

Silas:Morning coffee waiting. You look like you could use it.

The simple message, evidence that someone noticed me and cared about my well-being, warmed me from head to toe. I sat in the car for a long moment, staring at those words on the screen, feeling the weight of everything I stood to lose—and everything I'd begun to find.

Chapter seventeen

Silas

The morning forecast had been harmless—just an inch or two of snow expected. The weather report predicted the kind of gentle dusting that would transform Whistleport into a picture-perfect coastal postcard before melting away by midday—nothing to worry about. Nothing unusual for Maine as February turned into early March.

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