Page 69 of Hometown Heart

I was terrified, but I didn't know how to say it. I set the phone down without responding, knowing that silence was its own kind of answer.

Saturday morning arrived with merciless swiftness, dawning bright and clear—the kind of perfect Maine day that typically filled me with appreciation for our new home. Today, it filled me with trepidation.

Cody had barely slept, bouncing around the house since 5 AM, alternating between practicing hockey moves in the hallway and checking his phone for messages from Edward. "Do you think Papa remembered to bring his Canadiens jersey?" he asked for the third time, spooning cereal into his mouth at warp speed. "I told him it's important for team solidarity."

"I'm sure he did," I answered mechanically, pouring more coffee in a futile attempt to combat my sleepless night. "He's nothing if not prepared."

The game was scheduled for eleven. Edward had texted—to me, not Cody—that he'd meet us at the rink. "Don't want to intrude on your morning routine," he'd written, which was simultaneously considerate and irritating. Edward at his most Edward.

We arrived at the arena forty-five minutes early at Cody's insistence. The parking lot was already filling up—weekend games drew the entire community, not only parents. I spotted Shannon helping Tyler with his gear, Brooks supervising the pre-game ice preparation, and Dottie distributing her homemade cookies to anyone within arm's reach.

And then I saw him.

Edward stood near the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his cashmere coat—a splash of metropolitan sophistication against Whistleport's weathered landscape. His dark hair was shorter than when I'd last seen him. He'd always aged well, the bastard.

"Papa!" Cody shouted, suddenly launching himself toward Edward's waiting arms.

I remained frozen beside our car. Edward lifted Cody clear off the ground, spinning him once before setting him down, his laughter carrying across the parking lot. They immediately fell into animated conversation, Cody's hands gesturing wildly as he pointed toward the arena.

I approached slowly, sensing curious glances from other parents. Edward was Whistleport's newest gossip fodder—the mysterious ex-husband from New York, finally making an appearance. I could practically hear Dottie's speculation.

"Jack," Edward extended his hand. Always formal in public, even after twelve years of marriage and one of divorce. "Good to see you."

I accepted the handshake, keeping my expression neutral. "You made it. How was the drive from Boston?"

"Beautiful. Maine as spring unfolds is something else. This place is exactly as Cody described it. Quaint but not precious."

Before we reached the locker rooms, I pulled Cody aside, one hand on his sleeve. "Go on in and start getting ready. We'll be there in a minute."

Once he disappeared through the double doors, I turned to Edward, keeping my voice low. "I need to be clear about something. You don't get to drop in when it's convenient and upend everything."

Edward's expression shifted from affable to guarded. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it? Six months of minimal contact, and suddenly you're here, wanting the full hockey dad experience?"

"Jack—"

"He was just starting to settle in, to build a life that doesn't revolve around wondering when you'll call."

Edward's face registered something unexpected—not defensiveness, but what appeared to be genuine remorse. "I know," he said quietly. "I know, Jack."

His admission caught me off-guard. I'd prepared for excuses and rationalization. "What am I supposed to do with that?" I asked, the fight draining from me.

Before he could answer, the locker room door banged open, and Cody's head appeared. "Are you guys coming? Coach Rory is doing his pre-game talk!"

Edward glanced at me, a question in his eyes.

I nodded once, a temporary truce established. "We'll be right there."

"Your ex is quite something," Brooks muttered, sliding into the seat beside me. "Got half the PTA ready to adopt him already."

"That's Edward," I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on the ice where Cody was warming up. "Never met a room he couldn't work."

Brooks studied me for a moment. "You doing okay with all this?"

I shrugged. The truth was too complicated and too raw to share, even with someone who had become a friend.

"Silas mentioned he might stop by," Brooks said casually, watching for my reaction. "Said something about bringing Cody's favorite post-game snacks."

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