Page 37 of Kellan & Emmett
An hour bled past. I found him in the dining room. He looked up when I stepped in, and for once there wasn’t an edge in his eyes.
The dining room had emptied out, only the faint clink of pans drifting from the kitchen. Heather had run to the store for milk, Sophia was elbow-deep in dishes, which left the tables bare, sunlight slanting across them in wide golden bars.
“You hungry?” I asked, keeping my voice even.
His head tipped, mouth quirking in that way that always got to me. “Starving.”
“There’s cobbler left from breakfast. Eggs too, if you don’t mind them reheated.”
“After the morning I’ve had? I’d eat cardboard,” he said, dropping the last chair into place.
I barked out a laugh before I could help it, shook my head, and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later I came back with twoplates—eggs, a wedge of cobbler, toast stacked high. I set one in front of him and slid into the chair across the table.
“I didn’t think you’d actually feed me,” he said, grin tugging as he reached for the fork.
“Figured you earned it,” I answered, tearing a corner off my toast.
Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t strained. Just the scrape of forks, the faint clatter from the kitchen, sunlight pooling across the table. He ate like a man who was thoroughly enjoying his meal, and for a while I let myself just watch — the ease of his shoulders, the quiet focus of him.
It had been twenty years since we’d shared something this simple. And God help me, it felt like more than a meal.
June 14
Two weeks in, and I’ve fallen into a rhythm I didn’t see coming. Mornings at the inn, doing whatever Emmett throws my way — sweeping, hauling, fixing leaky faucets — the kind of work that leaves you bone-tired but satisfied. By nine, Rick swings by, and I ride with him out to the field. The kids keep me on my toes, and by the time he drops me back in the afternoons, I’m worn out inthe best way. Evenings, I find myself back at the inn — wiping tables, hauling chairs, sometimes just keeping Emmett company while he finishes the books.
I should feel restless, like I’m wasting time. Instead, I feel… steady. Useful. Like maybe I’ve stumbled into a life that fits, even if it’s only borrowed for now.
And Emmett — he’s not all walls anymore. Sometimes he lets a crack show. Sometimes he’s even a playful asshole, just like he used to be. God help me, those are the moments I look forward to most. Being in his orbit again feels a little too easy, a little too right.
—K
Chapter 20
Kellan
By the time we left the hardware store, the sun was climbing, hot enough to press through my shirt. I’d expected we’d head straight back to the inn, but Emmett turned the wheel the other way, rolling past Main Street until the red and white awning ofThe Rollcame into view.
The bell gave a soft jangle when we stepped insideThe Roll. The place smelled exactly the same as it had when we were kids — cinnamon, butter, and a hint of burnt coffee.
Only a few tables were taken: an older couple near the window, two teenagers hunched over milkshakes in the back booth. Enough space that Emmett and I didn’t have to hunt for seats.
Emmett leaned closer as we slid into line. “Coffee’s still terrible, by the way,” he muttered, low enough that only I heard.
I huffed, eyeing the board above the register. “Guess I’ll stick to orange juice, then.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I’m already committed to bad coffee.”
Ethan Lattimore stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled, handing off a paper bag to a woman balancing a toddler on her hip. He was only a year behind us in school—close enough that back then, you couldn’t pass in the halls without knowing each other’s name.. Another man waited behind her, already reaching for his wallet. By the time he took his order and stepped aside, we were next in line.
Ethan spotted us over the register and broke into a grin. “Well, well. If it isn’t Miller and James. Reunion wasn’t enough? You had to come back for the real town tradition?”
“Morning, Ethan,” Emmett said, half-smile tugging at his mouth.
“Morning,” I added, tipping my chin. “Place looks the same. Smells the same, too.”
“Best smell in the county,” Ethan shot back with a wink. “So, what’ll it be?”
“Two of the cinnamon rolls,” Emmett answered. “One coffee, one OJ.”
