Page 81 of Hometown Heart

Silas and I fell into step beside each other, close enough that our knuckles occasionally brushed—accidental touches that sent sparks up my arm despite their innocence. Silas had gone quiet, his hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes scanning the storefronts, harbor, and narrow side streets as if seeing them for the first time.

"You're quiet," I observed, nudging his elbow gently.

"Just... taking it all in," he replied, his voice soft. The lamplight picked up the strands of copper in his beard.

"Brooks says the ice on the harbor is perfect right now," I ventured. "Strong enough to skate on, but not for much longer with spring coming."

"Harbor skating," Silas nodded. "Whistleport tradition. Been years since I've tried it."

"We should go," I suggested, keeping my tone casual. "Tonight. After we drop Cody's things at home."

Silas hesitated, eyes drifting toward the harbor where moonlight illuminated a smooth sheet of ice extending from the public dock. "You sure he's not too tired after the game?"

I followed his gaze to where Cody was now performing an elaborate victory dance on the corner, apparently for the amusement of Dottie Perkins's ancient cat, which watched from a windowsill with regal indifference.

"I think he's got some energy to burn," I laughed. "What about you? Up for breaking Whistleport tradition by actually participating in it?"

The smile that spread across Silas's face was worth every second of the months I'd spent coaxing him from behind his coffee counter.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm up for it."

We passed the hardware store, its window display featuring snowblowers now marked with "CLEARANCE" signs—a hopeful harbinger of spring. Mr. Peterson was inside, doing late inventory. He spotted us and offered a wave.

"Everyone's in excellent spirits tonight," Silas observed.

"Hockey victory will do that," I replied. "Plus, there's something about this time of year—when winter's still hanging on, but you can sense it loosening its grip. Makes people friendlier."

"It's not just that," Silas said, his voice thoughtful. "It's different lately. The way people look at me—at us."

I turned to study his profile. "Different, how?"

He shrugged, but the gesture wasn't dismissive. "Like I belong. Not just as the coffee guy who remembers their orders, but as... Silas. Part of whatever this is." He gestured vaguely around us.

"Part of Whistleport. Part of one of the town's families." I supplied.

"Yeah. That."

We walked silently for half a block, the weight of his admission settling between us like a tangible presence. I'd struggled since arriving to find my place in this tight-knit community. Silas had lived here his entire life but had worked just as hard to keep himself separate.

Now, somehow, we'd both found ourselves inside the circle rather than orbiting around it.

"Dad!" Cody's voice interrupted my thoughts. He'd stopped at the corner, pointing excitedly toward the harbor. "They've got the lanterns out on the ice! Can we go? Please?"

Sure enough, the traditional colored lanterns had been placed around the harbor's improvised skating area, their warm light reflecting off the ice in jewel-toned patterns.

"Just what I was thinking," I called back. "We need to drop your stuff at home first."

Cody groaned theatrically. "That'll take forever!"

"Twenty minutes, tops," I promised. "Then we can head right back down."

"I'll run ahead and get my skates," Silas offered, gesturing toward Tidal Grounds and his apartment above. "Meet you down there?"

I nodded, suddenly reluctant to part ways even temporarily. "Don't change your mind while you're up there."

His fingers brushed mine, a deliberate touch this time. "Not a chance."

As we continued toward home, Cody circled back to walk beside me. "Is Silas going skating with us?"

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