Page 61 of Kellan & Emmett
I laughed when one of the little ones barreled into my side, sticky-fingered and fearless, demanding a piggyback. I gave in, lifting him high until his squeals rang across the grass. It should’ve been exhausting after weeks of this, but my chest only swelled fuller, pride anchoring me in a way no stadium crowd ever had.
By the time the last cooler was dragged back to a truck and the sun sagged toward the trees, Rick clapped me on the back again.“Door’s always open, Hayes. Summer gig, or more if you want it.”
The words stuck with me all the way back in his truck, the windows down, cicadas buzzing. More if you want it.
When we pulled into the inn’s gravel lot, twilight already pressed against the porch lights. My phone buzzed once in my pocket — Emmett’s reply to my message.Okay.Simple, steady, like him.
I stepped out of the truck, waved my thanks, and watched the taillights disappear down the road. My pulse kicked harder as I turned toward the front door, heart hammering with everything I hadn’t said yet.[40]
The porch light cast a warm glow over the front steps as I pushed open the door. The familiar chime of the bell above rang out, and with it, the smell of lemon polish and whatever dessert Emmett had baked earlier still lingering in the air.
He was behind the desk, bent over the ledger, pen tapping absently against the margin. Mrs. Peterson leaned against the counter, chatting away about peach preserves from the market, her husband already carrying a jar like treasure. Across the lobby, the honeymooners slipped by hand in hand, flushed and smiling like the world was brand-new.
And then Emmett looked up.
His eyes found mine, and the rest of the room went soft around the edges. Just a second — no more — but it felt like he knew why I was there, why my throat was tight, why my pulse hadn’t steadied since I’d typed those three words:We need to talk.
“Evening,” he said, polite for the guests, but the flicker under it was just for me.
I managed a nod, but I stayed by the door, waiting, letting him finish. Mrs. Peterson carried on, oblivious, until finally she snapped her purse shut and offered me a cheery wave on her way out.
When the door closed behind her, the quiet in the lobby stretched. Emmett slid the pen into its holder, closed the ledger, and straightened like he was putting himself together. Then his gaze came back to me, steady and unguarded.
“Upstairs?” he asked, low enough that only I could hear.
My mouth was dry, but I nodded. “Yeah.”
The weight of it followed us as we climbed, the creak of the stairs and the soft click of his door closing behind us louder than any crowd I’d ever faced.[41]
The room was dim, the lamp on the nightstand throwing a soft glow. Summer air drifted in through the cracked window, carrying the steady drone of cicadas. Emmett leaned against the dresser, arms folded, eyes fixed on me like he knew something was coming.
“How was it?” he asked. His voice was low, steady. “Last day.”
I set my bag down, rubbed the back of my neck. “Harder than I thought it’d be. Kids clung to me like they didn’t want to let go. Parents shook my hand like I’d given their kids more than drills and pep talks. Rick even said I’d be welcome back next summer.”
Emmett’s mouth twitched, his eyes softer than the smile he gave me. “That’s because you mattered. To them.”
I crossed the room, my pulse hammering. His body was right there, solid and warm and mine if I asked. My throat tightened, but the words clawed out anyway. “I love you, Emmy. I’ve always loved you.”
He froze, breath hitching. For one awful second, silence pressed in so thick I thought I’d gone too far. Then his arms unfolded, his face cracked open, and his voice rasped out rough and true: “Kelly… I’ve loved you for so damn long. Thought I’d lost the right to ever say it again.”
Relief and need crashed through me at once. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into me, mouths colliding. The kiss started slow but spun fast into something hotter, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. His hand fisted in my hair, mine slid under his shirt, dragging over bare skin that burned under my palm.
We stumbled back onto the bed, tangled in each other. He rolled us until we were side by side, fingers linked tight, our bodies pressed close, hard against each other. I broke the kiss long enough to whisper against his jaw, “God, I want everything with you.”
His answering groan shook through me. He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was tasting every vow we hadn’t spoken yet. When we finally pulled apart, our breaths ragged, he murmured, “You ever picture kids running these halls? Turning this place into chaos?”
I laughed softly, chest still heaving. “Never let myself picture kids. But the thought doesn’t scare me. Not if it’s with you.”
His thumb stroked over my knuckles, anchoring me. “Whatever you want, we’ll figure it out. Coaching, teaching—whatever roots you need. We’ll make it work.”
My heart clenched, not from fear, but from the sheer force of wanting him, of wanting this. I pressed my forehead to his, breath hot between us. “There’s one thing, Emmy. I need to go back to LA first. Tie up loose ends. But when I do… I want to come back here. To you.”
He tensed, then pulled me tighter, his voice raw. “Then come back. Don’t make me wait twenty years again.”
His mouth brushed mine, one last kiss, soft but searing. And inside, I vowed it as fierce as blood in my veins:I’m not leaving him behind this time. I’ll fight for this. For us.[42]
The vow still buzzed between us when Emmett’s grin turned wicked, boyish, like we were back on the bleachers daring each other to take one more risk. His hand slid down, cupping me through my jeans, and I jolted, breath catching.
