Page 64 of Hometown Heart

Before I could answer, a powerful gust of wind rattled the windows. We both turned toward the sound, momentarily startled by the reminder of the storm raging outside.

I was grateful for the interruption. "Sounds like it's picking up out there."

Jack nodded, moving toward the window. Beyond the glass, Whistleport had disappeared beneath snow drifts, and the street lights were only hazy glowing orbs in the whiteness.

"Dad! Silas!" Cody's voice called from inside the fort. "Come check this out! I found the perfect spot for everyone to sit!"

Jack turned to me. "Shall we?"

I hesitated, feeling strangely vulnerable at the prospect of entering the small, intimate space Cody created. Jack waited, patient and steady, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Lead the way," I gathered my mug and followed him toward the fort.

The blanket fort was surprisingly spacious inside—a testament to Cody's architectural vision. The string lights wove through the blanket ceiling, casting a constellation of soft golden points against the fabric. Cody had arranged the beanbag chairs I kept for the reading nook into a comfortable semicircle, creating a cozy den that was worlds away from the storm outside.

"Welcome to Fort Blizzard!" Cody announced proudly, gesturing around the space. "Best storm shelter in Whistleport."

"Very impressive." I was genuinely impressed by what they'd managed to create in such a short time.

Cody patted the beanbag next to him. "You have to sit inside. That's the rule."

I hesitated, standing awkwardly at the entrance. Stepping inside meant entering their world rather than simply hosting them in mine. Jack stood behind me, close enough to sense the heat radiating from his body.

"Go on." He gently nudged me forward.

I lowered myself onto the beanbag, which exhaled beneath me with a soft whoosh. Cody immediately reached into his backpack and pulled out a well-worn paperback.

"I brought this for homework, but now it's perfect for a snow day." He handed me the book—a copy ofThe Hobbitwith a cracked spine and dog-eared pages. "Will you read it? Dad talks about how great you were at the poetry night, so you must be good at reading stories, too."

Jack settled onto another beanbag across from us, arranging his long legs in the confined space. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Si."

"I don't mind," I said, taking the book from Cody. "Where should I start?"

"From the beginning!" Cody declared, pulling his blanket higher around his shoulders and settling in expectantly. "We might be here for a week!"

I opened to the first page, the paper soft and familiar beneath my fingers. "'In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit,'" I began, my voice finding its rhythm more quickly than I'd expected.

The words were familiar, too familiar. I'd read them before—years ago, curled up on the couch with Nico, a snowstorm much like this one rattling the windows of our culinary school apartment. He'd insisted I read out loud, even though he could have just as easily done it himself.

"Your voice is better,"he'd said, tucking his feet under my thigh, grinning up at me as I rolled my eyes but kept going."It makes the words feel like they belong to us."

I never finished the book.

It sat, half-read, on our coffee table until the night Nico packed his things and walked out the door. I remember staring at it, fingers tracing the dog-eared page where we'd stopped. ChapterSix.Riddles in the Dark.A fitting place to leave something unfinished.

Now, years later, I was reading the same words in a different storm to a different person. No—to two different people. And unlike before, I wasn't waiting for someone to leave. I wasn't bracing for the moment when warmth turned cold.

The words flowed naturally as if they'd been waiting for me—for this storm, this fort, and these listeners. Cody watched with rapt attention, occasionally interrupting with questions about hobbits and dragons. Jack remained quieter, but I sensed his gaze on me, steady and warm.

As I read about Bilbo Baggins and his unexpected adventure, something shifted in the atmosphere around us. The howling wind outside faded to background noise, and the blanket fort became our entire world—intimate and separate from everything beyond the fabric walls.

I paused after finishing a chapter, reaching for my now-lukewarm hot chocolate. "Should I continue?"

"Yes, please," Cody said, his voice softer than before, drowsiness beginning to tug at his words. "I want to hear about the trolls."

I glanced at Jack, who had shifted position, now leaning against one of the chair legs supporting our structure. His expression was open and unguarded.

It struck me then with a sudden clarity that nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. The way Jack looked at me wasn't only physical attraction. It was the longing in his eyes—for connection. He wanted this. Us. The three of us, together in this small, warm space we'd created as a fortress against the storm.

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