6. Kade

Chapter six

Kade

G us's Diner was a noisy place at noon. Knives and forks clattered against plates, and light chatter filled the air, but it couldn't drown out Dottie Perkins. Her voice was like a foghorn, every word a pin pricking my thin skin.

She spoke to the woman across from her, but as a true gossip, she intended her words for anyone else who might be listening. "That Langston boy. He struts around town like royalty. Did you know his family has a building named after them at UNH?"

I sunk lower in my booth, the vinyl squeaking as my chin stopped just above level with the tabletop. My plate of a greasy burger and fries had seemed comforting. Now, it turned my stomach.

"And the way he carries on with Ziggy Knickerbocker." Dottie dropped her voice to the level of a stage whisper. "One minute, they're at each other's throats, and the next, they're practically joined at the hip. Mark my words. We haven't seen the end of it."

My jaw tensed. I wanted to stand and defend myself. I wanted to insist they were all wrong about me, but it wasn't the place. I couldn't trust Dottie's friends to take my side. Instead, I imagined I was a goldfish cooped up in a too-small bowl.

When Dottie finally ended her speech, I thought about Ziggy. Hazy images came back—our bodies pressed tightly together after his fall and that near kiss. It was such a raw connection.

He didn't hate me. I knew that now, but I wasn't sure what we were to each other. I couldn't answer that question on my own.

Finally, tired of too many prying eyes, I decided to leave the diner. I tossed a few bills on the table and slid out of the booth, heading for the door. Bells jingled as I escaped onto the sidewalk.

Once outside, I inhaled deeply. The oppressive heat that baked Whistleport for the past week began fading, replaced by a gentle breeze off the ocean that smelled of salt and seaweed.

My feet took off down the street on autopilot. They knew where I needed to go—Tidal Grounds. Silas always welcomed me there, and I desperately needed to feel like I belonged somewhere.

While I walked, I continued to think about Ziggy. In my mind, I saw the fire in his eyes on the rink and the urgent softness of his voice when we discussed poetry. He was a puzzle I couldn't yet solve, but maybe we could be friends if I were lucky.

I approached the weathered facade of Tidal Grounds with a smile. When I pushed the door open, the familiar coffee aroma wrapped around me, and I started to relax.

Silas called out from behind the counter. "Welcome! What can I get for you today, Kade?"

His genuine greeting, free from any sarcasm or judgment, charmed me. "Just hoping to find a place where the coffee doesn't taste like it came out of an abandoned pot from the last century."

Silas laughed heartily. "Did you try that swill at Gus's again? I say stick with the Moxie there. Let me fix you a special mug. On the house."

He set about, working his magic with masterfully precise movements. Listening to the whir of the grinder, I fidgeted with a napkin.

After carefully pouring the brew, Silas slid my mug across the counter. "Here you go. It's my secret weapon to fight small-town blues. Let me know what you think."

I tasted the rich, complex mug of coffee. It had a hint of chocolate and a slight bit of spice. The delicious concoction warmed me from the inside out.

Silas rested an elbow on the counter. "So, did you have a rough morning?"

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice to verbalize a response. If I started talking, I worried that I wouldn't stop.

"Come on." He jerked his thumb toward the rear of the room. "Let's get some fresh air, and you look like you could use a listening ear."

I followed him out a back door onto a small deck that looked out over Whistleport's harbor. It was a peaceful spot, quiet except for the cries of seagulls and the gentle lapping of ocean waves on rocks.

Silas settled into an Adirondack chair. "Join me. Do you want to talk about it?"

It didn't take long. I'd barely planted my butt in the chair when the words started to spill out. "I just… I don't get it. I'm trying as hard as I can. I don't mean to show off or cause anybody any trouble. I wish they'd just let me play hockey, but it's like they think I'm a one-person conspiracy to bring the town down."

Silas gazed at me with thoughtful eyes. "Is that all they think you are?"

"Heh." I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. "They also think I'm some rich kid playing at being a local while I'm taking some poverty tourism trip. That is so not me. They don't see me. They only want to see my family's name and my air-conditioned apartment."

"And Ziggy?"

I laughed softly. "Ziggy… he's a different story. "We were rivals, but now…" I couldn't pull out the right words. "I don't think he hates me, but I don't know what we are to each other now. That's all confusing as hell."

Silas chuckled. "Let it settle. You'll figure it out."

I nodded and rolled the words around inside my head. "Maybe you're right, but it's all so complicated right now."

Look," Silas leaned forward, "people here aren't bad. They are mostly good folk, but a lot of them are set in their ways. You're the new thing, the new soda brand on the shelf at the grocery. It makes them a little nervous. Give people some time, and, meanwhile, show them who you really are."

"Does that go for Ziggy, too?"

"Ah, well, now you're talking about a whole other kettle of fish… or should we say lobster?"

I smirked. "I guess you could say that."

"Have you tried talking to him? I don't mean trash-talking on the ice. Maybe you need some real conversation."

Before I could say anything, the back door creaked open. There stood Ziggy with perfect timing. He appeared as startled to see me as I was to see him. Before saying anything to me, he turned toward Silas.

"I just stopped in to pick up my first paycheck, and they said you were out here, but I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." He glanced at me again.

"No interruption and the checks are in the cash register." Silas rose from his chair. "You have perfect timing, Zig. Why don't you join Kade? I'll grab a mug of the black stuff for you. Besides, I really should get to work on one of my catering orders inside."

A few seconds later, he was gone. That left Ziggy and me alone together.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I can go if you want."

"No… stay and have a seat. Please."

He nodded and took the Adirondack chair Silas left empty. I studied him while the silence grew between us. His brow furrowed lightly as he looked out over the water.

I grasped at straws, trying to figure out something intelligent to say. "How's your head? I mean, after the fall."

"It's better. Thanks for asking. And, uh, thanks again for your help when it happened. I'm sure some assholes would've left me there."

I planted my elbows on my knees and leaned forward. "Anytime. It's what teammates do, right?

"Is that what we are now? Teammates?"

I shrugged and rubbed one hand on my thigh. "I don't know. Maybe we are. All I know for sure is I'm tired of fighting. It's getting old trying to prove myself to you. Or I should say prove myself to the entire town. Does that make sense?"

I sensed a crack in his armor. "Yeah. I get it."

We were both silent again but with less tension.

Ziggy broke the quiet with a question. "Why'd you come to Whistleport, Kade? I mean, you could spend the summer training anywhere… even Canada."

I considered deflecting the question, like a goalie pushing the puck out of the crease. Excuses about ice time and upping my game danced on the tip of my tongue. But as I opened my mouth, I caught something in Ziggy's expression—an openness I hadn't seen before. My rehearsed mini-speech died in my throat.

Ziggy must have sensed my hesitation. He leaned forward. "No judgments, I promise."

I inhaled deeply, the salty air filling my lungs. The truth pressed against my chest, demanding release. "Honestly?" I started, with my voice barely above a whisper. "It's not only about hockey. I'm... I'm seeing a therapist here."

Both of Ziggy's eyebrows shot up, and I braced myself, but he didn't say anything. He nodded to encourage me to continue.

"My parents are getting a divorce. I guess it's been in the cards for quite a while, but now they're finally drawing up the paperwork. With all the hockey pressure at UNH and academic expectations… it got to be a little much. I needed to get out of town, find somewhere I could breathe, and find somebody to listen."

Glancing at Ziggy, I wasn't sure what to expect. He spoke softly. "That takes a lot of courage, man. It's fucking hard to admit you need help."

A shaky laugh escaped my lips. "Don't know about that. Sometimes, it doesn't feel courageous. I lay awake at night thinking all I'm doing is running away from everything."

Ziggy shook his head. "You're not running away. I'd call it that if you just set up shop in that fancy apartment and ordered delivery for every meal. What you're doing? Damn, you're facing your shit head-on."

Something about his straightforward words touched me. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"So, who's the therapist? We're not a very big town."

I'd dropped the big news. There was no reason to hide the details. "Dr. Amelia Fellows. She's been great so far."

Ziggy's eyes opened wider. "No way. It really is a small town."

"She's somebody you know?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Mom saw her a few years back. My parents had a rough year or so. I don't think it ever got to the point of seriously considering divorce, but still…yeah, Dr. Fellows stitched them back together."

Relief washed over me. "Really? That's… wow, I guess she does understand families. Good to know."

"Yeah, she's good people." Ziggy paused. "You know, I know it's not people I know, but if you ever want to… or need to talk about any of it, friends say I'm a good listener. I do understand what stress is in a family."

His offer caught me off guard. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between us before Ziggy spoke again. "You know, I think I get it… why you're here. Whistleport is a good place for people to lay back and work on finding themselves. I don't think you're the first to do that here."

I nodded and leaned back in my chair. "Yeah, I think you're right. I guess that's not a bad thing for us."

"Maybe not."

We talked. It was a real conversation and went on for what felt like hours. Silas brought us each new mugs of coffee as we exchanged thoughts about family legacies, the battle to live up to the expectations of others, and feeling a little different from the crowd around us. We didn't come up with any earth-shattering conclusions, but the talk was real. We were finally authentic people for each other, not just abstract rivals.

The door creaked behind us, and we both turned to see Brooks Bennett stepping onto the deck. I bit my lip. It was Brooks Bennett, a former NHL star, right there close to me. He was tall and muscular, and yeah, even I could tell he looked good. I'd grown up watching him play.

"Mind if I join the party?" His voice was a deep, rumbling baritone.

I nodded eagerly and worried that I looked like another awestruck fan. Ziggy smirked at me slightly. It wasn't malicious, more amused.

Brooks settled into an open chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Silas said the two of you might need a referee. He warned me to be prepared for cuts and bruises." I heard the humor in his tone. "I guess he was wrong. Looks like you're both managing quite well."

I started to explain. "We were just—"

"Talking." Ziggy finished the sentence for me. "A real conversation. I've got a question, though. Brooks, how'd you settle back into town so easily after being away for so many years."

Brooks sipped his coffee. "Good question. When I first came back to Whistleport, I thought I had it all figured out. I came back to take care of Dad and figured I'd eventually move on again. What I didn't expect was the warm welcome home I got. I was the hometown hero. It turns out," he leaned forward, " small towns have long memories, but they have even longer tongues."

I chuckled a bit and started to relax. Brooks spoke like a normal guy.

He continued his comments. "The trick is to remember, at the end of the day, it's mostly noise. What matters is what happens one-on-one with people. It's about what happens when you're forced to be you with someone."

The words were heavy, but they still managed to drift in the air.

"It's not easy," Brooks continued, "settling into a small town, but it's worth it. These people have a lot of love to give once you let them in and meet them where they are." He stood and then clapped us both on the shoulders. "I'm rambling. The two of you are going to be just fine."

As Brooks returned to the shop, I realized something had shifted between Ziggy and me. Something was building, but I didn't know what… not yet.

It was time to go, and I had a suggestion. "Same time tomorrow? I promise to bring my vivid observations and incessant charm."

Ziggy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Don't push it, Kade, but yeah… maybe. We'll see."

As I strolled back to my apartment, I had a smile on my face. Whistleport was finally a little more welcoming. I didn't want to hop on a boat for the harbor islands anymore.

When I neared my building, a frightening realization hit me. My skin tingled when I watched Ziggy smile. That wasn't about hockey. It was something different, touching things I'd buried even more deeply than my family troubles. I paused on the sidewalk and let a new wave of trepidation wash over me. Whatever it was and whatever it might cause was sure to change my life forever.