Page 7 of Hometown Heart

"Cody." I pulled into our driveway, killing the engine but making no move to get out. "Are you worried about me?"

He fidgeted with his equipment bag's zipper. "Maybe? It's just... you always said we moved here for me because of hockey and stuff. I want you to like it and have friends and everything."

The simple honesty of his wishes hit me like a check to the boards. "Come here, bud." I turned in my seat. "Yeah, we moved here for you. But I'm not just... watching from the penalty box, okay? I'm learning to skate through this new life, too."

"Like how you got Silas to remember your coffee order at Tidal Grounds?" His grin turned sly. "I heard him tell Coach Rory you ordered the same thing three times in a row."

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My usual defense about "liking routine" sounded thin, even to me.

Cody was already scrambling out of the car. "Can we practice now? I promised Tyler I'd master that spin move by tomorrow."

I watched him bound toward the house, all gangly limbs and infectious enthusiasm. Through our kitchen window, I saw the warm glow of the light I forgot to turn off in the darkness of early morning—my morning since I'd been the one to get up early, drawn to the quiet comfort of Tidal Grounds and drawn, if I was being honest, to the familiar voice and easy smile behind the counter.

Three Saturdays in a row.

I followed Cody inside. We had passes to perfect, and tomorrow morning would bring a new wave of welcoming warmth, one scone and one cup of coffee at a time.

Chapter three

Silas

The plexiglass creaked under my weight as I leaned against it, balancing two coffee cups and watching Rory demonstrate what he insisted was a "textbook slapshot" to Brooks. It was early morning, before school on a Tuesday, and the rink was empty.

"Your form's getting rusty, Blake," Brooks called out, effortlessly stealing the puck from Rory and wheeling around for a shot that pinged satisfyingly off the crossbar. "Too many poetry readings, not enough practice."

I grinned as Rory abandoned all pretense of technique and chased Brooks across the ice, their skates carving parallel arcs into the pristine surface. Some things never changed—those two had been racing each other around the Whistleport rink since we were kids.

"If you're done showing off," I called out, lifting the cups, "I've got your usual. Though maybe Brooks needs the caffeine more, if he's resorting to cheap shots."

They glided over, cheeks flushed from exertion. Rory grabbed his cup—dark roast and a splash of oat milk—and inhaled deeply. "You're a saint, Si."

"Nah, merely a businessman who knows his regulars." My reply was automatic and a little distracted. Across the ice, Jack appeared, crouching beside Cody, adjusting the boy's skate laces with careful fingers.

"Speaking of regulars," Brooks said, following my gaze with poorly concealed interest, "heard from Ziggy yesterday. Said he's coming up from UMaine for Winter Carnival, between games."

"Yeah?" The news snapped my attention back. "How's the poetry-quoting hockey star doing down in Orono?"

"Making waves." Rory spoke with obvious pride. He'd been a role model and mentor for Ziggy Knickerbocker from childhood. "Coach says he's still driving the team crazy reciting Frost in the locker room. Some things never change."

He paused, then added with deliberate casualness, "I don't think he'll be ready to read anything at Winter Carnival, but you can talk to him about appearing at one of the Tidal Grounds poetry readings soon. He said he's been writing some new stuff."

Brooks chuckled. "Remember that game against Ellsworth when he quoted Emily Dickinson after that high-sticking call? The refs didn't know what to do with him."

Rory grinned. "The kids are going to lose their minds when he walks into the rink."

"Yeah, true." My voice had gone flat because my focus drifted again. Jack had straightened up, one hand resting lightly on Cody's shoulder as they talked strategy. The morning sun streaming through the skylights caught the silver at his temples, and I found myself wondering how it would feel to—

"Earth to Silas," Brooks interrupted, smirking. "You planning to join us on Planet Hockey anytime soon?"

Heat crept up my neck. "Just thinking about inventory," I lied, then immediately felt guilty for the deception. "And trying to remember if I ordered enough hot chocolate for Cody's post-practice visits."

Rory's knowing look told me I wasn't fooling anyone, but he kindly changed the subject. The conversation shifted to safer territory, but I couldn't ignore the warm sensations that spread through me every time Jack's quiet laugh drifted across the ice.

I decided to take a closer look at Cody's skating skills before leaving the arena. He was demonstrating his skills for Jack.

"Papa! Watch this!"

Just twenty feet away, he demonstrated his stopping technique, spraying ice as he came to a perfect hockey stop.

---