Page 12 of Kellan & Emmett
By the time Theo Brooks’ whistle cut the final seconds, the score tilted just enough in the alumni’s favor. The bleachers erupted, old teammates slapping backs like no time had passed. For a moment, it almost felt like history had looped back on itself—like the class of 2005 had claimed one more win.
By the time Theo Brooks’ final whistle blew—the same Theo who now taught English at the high school and served as the team’s assistant coach—the alumni had edged out the varsity by a handful of points. The bleachers erupted, old teammates slapping backs like no time had passed. I clapped along witheveryone else, though my eyes slid sideways before I could stop them.
Emmett was smiling—small, quiet, nothing showy, but real. Pride softened his face, pride that didn’t surprise me. He’d always loved watching people succeed, even if he’d never stepped onto the court himself.
The ache came quickly. Once, that smile had been for me—my plays, my games, my name. Now it wasn’t. And the emptiness of that truth pressed sharp beneath my ribs.
Chapter 6
Kellan
The knot in my tie looked like a toddler had tied it with their eyes closed. I yanked it loose, tried again in front of the mirror above the dresser. Too tight this time. My fingers were useless.
The rental suit wasn’t helping. Stiff shoulders, collar that pinched like it had a grudge against me. I muttered a curse under my breath and dropped my hands, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Nearly forty. A little more gray at the temples. A little less shine in the eyes. And about to walk into a gym decorated like the 1980s had exploded.
A knock broke the silence.
I frowned, crossing the room. Nobody was supposed to come by. Maybe someone from the committee, maybe—
I opened the door.
Emmett.
He leaned against the frame like it cost him something to be standing there. Crisp shirt, sleeves rolled once at the forearms, hair brushed back. My chest pulled tight.
His gaze flicked down, caught the mess at my throat. A huff of air, almost a laugh, not cruel. “You still can’t tie one, can you?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “It’s been a while.” I tugged at the damn piece of fabric.
A pause. Then, quieter: “I used to do it for you all the time.”
The memory landed before I could shove it aside—me at thirteen, my father barking that no son of his would walk into church looking sloppy. Emmett’s fingers had steadied the knot at my throat, faster and neater than I ever managed. He’d done the same before school dances, before graduation. Always gruff about it, always acting like I was hopeless, but he’d never let me walk out with it crooked.
He stepped inside before I could argue, close enough that the faint clean scent of cologne and soap reached me. “Come here. Let me help you.” His voice was gruff, but not unkind, his fingers already brushing mine aside.
The words hit soft and sharp at the same time. He tugged the fabric straight, quick, practiced motions.
I watched the top of his head as he worked, jaw tight, pretending it was nothing. Pretending I didn’t feel the heat of his knuckles against my throat.
“There,” he said, giving the knot a final tug. “At least you don’t look like you lost a fight with your closet.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” I deadpanned.
He stepped back, putting the space between us again. Whatever softness had cracked through was gone by the time he said, flat as before, “Figured we’re both heading to the school. You want a ride?”
For a second, I just stared. I still had the rental. “I’ve got my own wheels.”
His jaw flexed. “I know. I’m saying—it’s stupid to drive two cars when we’re going to the same place.” A beat passed, then quieter, almost grudging: “Should’ve suggested it yesterday.”
An apology. The closest I’d ever heard from him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Okay.”
He didn’t smile, or soften. Just nodded and stepped back, leaving me to grab my jacket and follow.
The hallway felt too narrow with him walking ahead of me. My pulse thudded with every step, too aware of the space he took up, of how different he looked from the boy I’d left behind.
I slid into the passenger seat, tugging at my collar again. The door shut with a solid thump, sealing us into a silence that pressed harder than I expected.
