Page 3 of Home Ice

“Come home, honey. Let’s get this figured out.”

I hang up and bury my face in my hands. There’s no way the kid is mine. No way. The sooner I get home and confirm it, the better.

Chapter One

JENSEN

The four-hour flight feels like it takes forever, and landing in Burlington International Airport doesn’t give me the same warm fuzzies as it usually does. The last day has been like a slap in the face, and I’m trying to pull myself out of this weird fog I’ve fallen into.

The drive to Watesburg doesn’t help either. Even with the music on blast, my thoughts are so loud they drown them out.

Is he really my son?

What does he think of me?

Does he even know about me?

What the hell will it be like when I meet him?

Do I want to meet him?

By the time I get to Watesburg, I’m covered in a cold sweat and badly need a shower and, honestly, a hug from my mom. It feels so stupid that it’s on my list at all, but goddammit, this situation gets me a pass, surely?

I’ll be staying with them while I figure out what’s going on and what the next steps are, but after that … Do I sign the kid over to Amelia and go back to St. Louis like nothing has changed? Or do I stick around and maybe get to know him?

That is, if he’s mine at all.

A son.

A fucking son.

It feels like I’ve taken a puck to the head, and I’ll wake up any minute in the locker room. Or a hospital bed.

Both of which are better than this whole fucking situation.

On the way through the village, I find a parking space I can back the rental into and switch off the engine. The sudden silence of the radio is loud, and I scrub at my gritty eyes. I need coffee before I can face my parents—and probably my nosy sister—so I throw open the door on the warm Vermont day and head toward the cafe.

Watesburg is one of those places that looks like it belongs on a postcard, and I always forget while I’m here how great it is, then every time I come to town, it’s like I’m hit with a new appreciation. It’s leafy and green now, but come fall, the reds and oranges are all up and down the street. I don’t get to see it often anymore, though, since my schedule is so intense.

I’m still in this weird daze when I shoulder open the door to the cafe, glance up from glaring at the ground—and come face-to-face with my past.

It’s like my whole system shuts down.

Tai Barrett was my best friend and teammate all through peewees, high school, and college. We were the kind of ride-or-die friends who didn’t have time for anyone else and dreamed big about getting out of this town.

We were drafted together.

We won the Frozen Four together.

Then graduation rolled around, and I got on a plane to St. Louis … and he disappeared off the face of the earth.

My eyes can barely take in what they’re seeing. That swoop of dark hair, the warm brown eyes, lines where there didn’t used to be lines, and a seriousness sitting heavy in them that never used to exist.

“Hawke,” he croaks, almost like he’d forgotten my name. “Ah … hey.”

The hurt of unanswered texts, declined calls, and that weird feeling of missing a limb crashes back into me.

And the words are out before I can stop them.