Page 31 of Kellan & Emmett
The distance shrank to a few feet. Close enough to see the way the heat had flushed the top of his chest above the open collar of his shirt. Close enough to catch the faint scent of cologne that clung to him, stubborn even out here in the sun.
I stopped, pulse jackhammering. For a second neither of us spoke, the weight of twenty years pressing down hard, thicker than the heat.
I cleared my throat. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” The words were rougher than I meant.
Silence stretched between us. Uneasy, fragile. But not sharp the way it had been in the week I’d been here.
“Didn’t think you’d say yes.” His arms stayed crossed, hair falling into his eyes, but he didn’t look away. “Guess the field got its hooks back in you.”
Heat prickled the back of my neck, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the sun or from standing under that gaze. “Maybe it did.”
His eyes stayed on me, unreadable, and it made me shift, weight rolling heel to toe like I was back under Friday night lights, waiting for a snap.
Then he spoke again, low. “You didn’t check out this morning.” Not an accusation, not casual either. “Figured you’d be on a flight by now.”
I dragged a hand over the back of my neck, buying time. “I was packed,” I admitted. A beat. My throat worked. “Bag’s still sitting by the door.”
His brow ticked, but he didn’t move. “So what stopped you?”
Air rushed out of me in something closer to a laugh, but there was no humor in it. My shoulders sagged. “Truth is…” I had to look past him, anywhere but straight into those eyes, or the words would stick. “…I didn’t know what I was going to do next. I’m floundering.”
The confession hung there, heavier than the heat pressing against my skin. For a moment, he didn’t answer. My chest tightened, bracing for the scoff, the shake of his head, the cold wall I’d been running into since I got back.
Instead, after too long, he said quietly, “At least that’s honest.” Softer than I deserved.
Something in me eased, just barely. Enough to let me breathe.
I shifted, toes digging into the dirt like I could anchor myself to the ground. “I resigned from my job,” I said, the words tasting bitter now that they were out. “Gave up my lease. No plan. No backup. Nothing lined up.” My laugh was sharp, self-directed. “It’s a fucked-up thing to do.”
Emmett’s jaw worked. His arms stayed folded, but his eyes—God, his eyes—felt like they were cutting straightthrough me, seeing every hollow space I’d been trying to cover. I wanted to look away. I didn’t.
Damn. I couldn’t read him. Couldn’t tell if he was about to walk away or let me stand there with the words hanging like a damn noose around my neck. My palms itched. Every second of silence stretched longer than the last.
All I knew was that I’d finally said it out loud — the truth I’d been ducking since I left L.A. — and the one person I’d sworn I’d never admit weakness to was staring back at me.
My throat burned. I held his gaze anyway. Waiting.
Chapter 17
Emmett
I should’ve said something. Christ, anything. But the words stuck, tangled up with twenty years of anger and shame.
Kellan stood there, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen — not under Friday night lights, not even that last night we…
My pulse thudded hard. Because damn, but part of me wanted to reach out. To close the gap between us, to say I knew what it felt like to be untethered.
Instead I dragged in a breath and forced my voice to work.
“It’s reckless, yeah. But… it’s also brave.”
It came out lower, rougher, softer than I meant.
And the way his shoulders eased—just barely—was enough to wreck me all over again.
Kellan scrubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes sliding past the empty field. “Truth is, I don’t even know where I’ll be sleeping long-term.”
“What, planning to pitch a tent on the fifty-yard line?”
