Page 65 of Kellan & Emmett
I turned the key, the engine humming to life.[47]
Gravel spat from the tires as I pulled out, jaw tight, pulse louder than the engine. The road blurred by in familiar turns and dips, every mile pressing harder against my ribs. My hands gripped the wheel so tight they ached, but I couldn’t ease up. Not until I saw him.
When the bend opened, the sight slammed into me—his truck, parked crooked off the shoulder like he’d barely cared where it landed. My chest clenched.
I killed the engine and shoved the door open, gravel crunching under my boots. Across the grass, there he was—slumped at the water’s edge, shoulders bowed like the weight of the whole damn world was stacked on them. My throat closed. Emmett, always so steady, looked wrecked.
I was moving before I realized it, strides breaking into something close to a jog. The ground was uneven, tugging at my balance, but I didn’t slow. Couldn’t. Not when the man I loved sat there looking like he’d broken in half.
He turned at the sound of my steps, startled. His eyes were wet, lashes clumped, his face raw in a way that tore straight through me.
“You came back,” he rasped, voice fraying.
“Of course I did.” I dropped to him, grabbed his hands, hauled him up and into me.
The crash of us together was desperate, a collision of arms and mouths and need. He clutched at me like I might vanish, and I kissed him like proof that I never would.
“I love you,” I muttered against his mouth.
“I love you,” he breathed back, voice breaking into the words like they’d been waiting years to be said.
Our mouths kept finding each other, again and again, the words tangled in every kiss until there was no telling where love ended and breath began.[48]
His breath hitched against my neck, a broken sound that made me pull back just enough to see him. His face was streaked, eyes shining wet, mouth trembling like the words cut him even as he forced them out.
“I thought…” His throat worked, voice jagged. “I thought you’d taken the job offer. That you weren’t coming back.”
For a heartbeat I just blinked at him, chest tight with disbelief. Then it clicked, sharp and awful. “Wait. Did you… did you read the whole message?”
He froze. His hand went to his pocket, fumbling, patting like maybe the phone would be there if he wanted it badly enough. A curse slipped out, hoarse. “Left it in the truck.”
“Jesus, Em.” My laugh cracked on the edge of it, half relief, half ache. I dug into my jeans for my own phone, thumb swiping quick to our thread. The words glowed on the screen, the ones I’d typed the second my plane hit the tarmac:
Got a job offer to coach at Westfield. Turned it down. Would’ve turned it down if they offered me the world. Because I already know where I belong. With you. I’m coming home, Emmy.
I held the phone out, hand steady only because it had to be.
He read, eyes scanning once, then again, like he couldn’t trust the letters not to vanish. His face crumpled, a sound ripping out of him—relief, wrecked and sharp enough to cut.
“I sent that when I landed,” I said quietly, reaching up to touch his jaw. “I was already here.”
For a long second, he didn’t move, just stared at me like he was trying to stitch himself back together from the inside out. Then he dragged me in, mouth pressing to mine, slower this time. Salt from his tears, sweetness from his breath, both sealing over the fracture that had nearly split us.
I kissed him deeper, steady, until the only thing left between us was the surety that neither of us was running anymore.[49]
We stayed like that, mouths barely moving, foreheads pressed together, until the rush of panic ebbed into something softer. His breath ghosted across my lips, warm and uneven, and I realized I didn’t need fireworks or fanfare to know we were whole again. Just this. Just him.[50]
Beat 6 – The Tree
Kellan’s thumb swept across my cheek, brushing away the last of the tears. His smile was soft, sure. “Come on. There’s something we need to do.”
He tugged at my hand, and I followed, the path familiar, cicadas humming above us. My chest loosened with each step, the weight of the last hour giving way to something lighter.
The oak appeared through the trees, tall and weathered, roots dug deep. And there it was — our carving, faded but legible: Emmy + Kelly friends 4ever.
We both reached out, fingertips grazing the grooves. My throat tightened. “God, we were just kids.”
Kellan let out a low laugh, sheepish. “Back then, I wanted to carve a heart. But I was too scared.”[51]
