Page 86 of Hometown Heart

We turned together, skating back toward the shore where figures were beginning to pack up their belongings as the impromptu skating party wound down. Cody spotted us and waved enthusiastically, gesturing for us to hurry.

"Dad!" he called as we approached. "Tyler's mom invited us for hot chocolate at their house. Can we go? Please?"

Jack glanced at me, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Don't look at me," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Shannon's hot chocolate might be the one in town that rivals mine."

"Is that an admission of defeat, Brewster?"

"Strategic retreat. Different thing entirely."

Cody looked between us, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You guys are weird," he declared with the confidence of youth. "So, can we go?"

"Sure," Jack agreed. "But not too late. You've still got school tomorrow, championship game or not."

His dramatic groan was offset by the speed with which he zoomed away to deliver the good news to Tyler. The MacPherson family was already gathering by the shore, Shannon waving in our direction with a mittened hand.

"Looks like your evening just got freed up," I observed as we skated toward the edge of the ice, trying to keep my tone casual despite the sudden flutter of anticipation in my chest.

"So it seems."

"Any plans?"

Jack studied my face, his eyes lingering on mine. "I was thinking about helping a local business owner inventory his coffee bean supply."

"Thrilling offer," I laughed. "But I had something a bit more interesting in mind."

"I'm listening."

"Brooks lent me that documentary about architectural preservation you mentioned wanting to see. The one about that Art Deco restoration in Chicago."

The surprise in his expression was worth the effort it had taken to track down the film. He'd mentioned it once, months ago, during a quiet moment at Tidal Grounds. I'd remembered, sought it out, and planned for us to watch it together—a small piece of the life we were already building.

"That sounds perfect," he said as we reached the shore.

Shannon MacPherson approached, her arms laden with Tyler's skating gear. "We've got plenty of room for Cody tonight if you two want some time to yourselves," she offered with a knowing smile. "He's always welcome for a sleepover."

Jack glanced at me, and I felt heat creeping up my neck despite the cold. "That's very generous, but—"

"We'd appreciate that," I interrupted, surprising both of us. "If you're sure it's not an imposition."

Shannon waved a dismissive hand. "Please. The boys will be up all night replaying that winning goal anyway. Might as well contain the excitement to one household."

With arrangements quickly finalized and Cody's overnight essentials promised for delivery within the hour, we found ourselves standing alone at the harbor's edge. The improvised skating rink had emptied, lanterns being collected by the town volunteers who had set them out hours earlier.

Jack reached for my hand once more, our fingers interlacing with natural ease. "That was unexpected," he said. "You accepting Shannon's offer."

I squeezed his hand, feeling snowflakes gathering on my eyelashes as I gazed up at him. "I'm tired of watching life happenaround me, remember? I'm ready to participate." I paused, then added more softly, "In everything."

The implication wasn't lost on him. This night had shifted something fundamental between us—crossed a threshold from possibility into commitment.

"There's no rush," he said, his voice gentle. "We have time."

"I know." I smiled, feeling it reach my eyes in a way that was becoming more natural with each passing day. "That's the point. We have time. All the time we need."

As we walked back toward town, the snow continued to fall around us, blanketing Whistleport in a fresh layer of white. Behind us, our skate marks on the harbor ice were already disappearing, filled in by new snow—not erased, but transformed, becoming part of something new and pristine.

Cody's laughter echoed in the distance as he and Tyler raced ahead toward the MacPhersons' home. Jack's hand remained firmly in mine, warm and solid despite the late winter chill. Ahead of us stretched Main Street, its familiar storefronts and streetlamps guiding our way home.

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