Page 72 of Hometown Heart

Each suggestion twisted something painful inside me. Edward had been back in Cody's life for less than a day, and already our son was rewriting our future to include him at every turn.

By seven-thirty, Cody was fading despite his determination to stay awake. Three slices of pizza, hours of walking, and the emotional high of his father's visit had finally caught up with him.

"But it's not even dark yet," he protested through a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Hockey players need their rest," Edward reminded him, using the argument that had always worked when Cody was younger. "How else will your muscles recover for your next game?"

"I guess," Cody conceded reluctantly. "But you'll still be here when I wake up, right?"

"Absolutely," Edward promised. "I don't fly out until tomorrow afternoon."

When he finally settled into bed, I sat on the edge of his mattress, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "Did you have a good day, buddy?"

"The best," he mumbled sleepily. "It was perfect having Papa here. Almost like old times."

"Almost," I agreed, my voice steady despite the turmoil beneath.

I stayed until his breathing deepened into sleep, watching his face relax into peaceful dreams. Whatever happened between Edward and me, whatever complications arose from his renewed presence in our lives, Cody's happiness had to remain the priority. It always had been.

Edward was waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with an ease that made me irrationally annoyed. He belonged in his sleek Manhattan apartment with its panoramic views and designer furniture—not in our modest Whistleport kitchen with its chipped tile and outdated cabinets.

"He's down for the count," I said, keeping my voice low. "Should sleep through till morning."

Edward nodded. "He always did crash hard after big days."

"Let's go into the study instead of driving to the arena. We can close the door there."

For a long minute, neither of us spoke. "Why are you really here, Edward?" I finally asked, turning to face him.

He sighed. "Exactly the reason I told you. I want to be more involved in Cody's life."

"After so many months of minimal contact? Why now?"

"Because I made mistakes." He said it simply, without defensive qualifications. "Because I've been doing a lot of thinking since you two moved away. About priorities. About what matters."

I laughed, a sharp sound. "You're having a midlife crisis before age 40?"

"Maybe," he admitted, surprising me with his candor. "Or maybe I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in years."

"And what exactly are you seeing?"

"That I let work consume me. That I missed too many games and too many school events. That I..." he hesitated, "...that I let you handle everything while I built my career. And then Ihad the nerve to be surprised when you'd built a life that could function without me."

His words were more honest than any conversation we'd had during the divorce proceedings.

"You left first," I said, the accusation I'd been holding back all day finally breaking free. "Long before I packed us up and moved to Maine. You were gone for months at a time—Munich, Singapore, Dubai. Building your reputation while I built our family."

"I know." Edward's voice was soft, empty of excuses. "You were right to be angry. You're right to be angry still."

His acceptance of blame was disorienting, undermining the righteous indignation I'd been nurturing since his call. "You left," I repeated. "Again and again. And Cody waited. He waited for your calls, for your visits. He made calendars counting down the days until you'd be home. And now you think you can walk back in when it suits you? Take up space in his life like you never disappeared?"

Edward remained seated, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. "Jack—"

"No." I turned back, my voice sharp even as I kept it low. "Cody doesn't need this. Doesn't need you showing up with grand promises you won't keep."

"That's not fair," Edward said, a flicker of the old defensiveness returning. "I'm trying to make things right."

"Right for whom? For yourself? Because from where I'm standing, this looks an awful lot like you realizing you've been missing out and wanting to reinsert yourself without considering the damage it might do."

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