Page 1 of Hometown Touchdown
Prologue
Brynn
Seattle
Thedressisstillin the garment bag by the window.
I haven’t found the courage to unzip it since my last fitting. I’d hung it there to catch the morning light, thinking itwould make me feel something—excitement, nerves, joy. But all I feel now is dread.
Henry is pacing.
Not the distracted kind, not restless or anxious. This is controlled. Intentional. Like he’s building up to something—rehearsing the lines of a decision he already made. Every pass across the living room feels like a countdown I can’t stop.
The apartment is quiet in that unbearable, suffocating way. Thick with the kind of tension that only lives in the wake of awe need to talktext—the one he sent an hour before I left work. I read it, felt the blood drain from my face, and still came home like a fool hoping it wouldn’t be what I already knew it was.
Outside, the city hums—cars passing, horns in the distance, someone yelling across the street. It should be familiar by now. Comforting, even. But it’s all just noise, echoing around me as my life begins to quietly fall apart.
He stops across from me, hands braced on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. His jaw tightens. I watch the muscle twitch just beneath the skin.
“I can’t do this,” he says. No warning. No softening blow. Just four words and a finality that splits something open in me. “We need to call off the wedding.”
My breath catches. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I can’t move forward with this.”
I stand in disbelief. “This? Are you saying the wedding or our relationship?”
His eyes don’t quite meet mine. “All of it, Brynn. I can’t—this isn’t what I signed up for.”
I blink, as if not understanding. “We talked about this. You said we’d figure it out together.”
“I didn’t know what it meant then,” he says, voice already hardening. “I didn’t understand whatforeverlooked like when forever means no kids, no family. No future.”
I flinch, the words like glass shattering in my chest. “We talked about adoption,” I snap. “You said you didn’t care how we got there, as long as we did it together. Didn’t you realize what forever was before you put this ring on my finger?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I meant it. But I can’t pretend this is still the life I want. I want kids of my own.”
“So what, you're just walking away? From everything?”
“I don’t want to resent you,” he says quietly. “And I will, Brynn. Eventually, I will.”
The silence that follows is worse than the words. I stare at him like I’m seeing someone I never knew, someone who peeled off his skin and revealed something selfish underneath.
I nod slowly. “Then go.”
He hesitates for half a breath, but there’s nothing left to say. He grabs his coat.
The door clicks shut behind him.
And just like that, I’m alone.
I don’t cry right away.
I just stand there, staring at the door like it might open again. Like maybe he forgot something—his wallet, his coat…me. My hands are clenched at my sides, but I can’t feel them. The apartment is too quiet now. The kind of quiet that wraps around you like a vice, squeezing until it hurts to breathe.
Everything in this place suddenly feels like a lie. The couch we picked out together during that stupid Presidents’ Day sale. The framed engagement photo grinning down at me from the bookshelf. The hooks by the sink where our “his and hers” mugs hang. It's all still here, but now it just feels fake. A Broadway production set built on promises he had no intention of keeping.
My eyes land on the dress. Still zipped up. Still hanging by the window like it’s waiting for the version of me who believed in all of this.
