Page 12 of Hometown Touchdown
“Brynn?” my mom calls.
“Up here!”
She appears in the doorway a moment later, hands on hips, scanning the tower of boxes with a look that tugs at my chest.
“You’re already packing?”
“I found a place. Cute duplex near the high school. Quiet, clean, new appliances.”
Her eyebrows lift. “By the high school?”
“Yep. Why?”
She hesitates. “No reason. Did you meet any of the neighbors?”
“Not yet. Sophie, the rental lady, said the landlord lives next door. Keeps to himself. Sounds ideal.”
Mom leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I was hoping you’d stay home longer than a week.”
I step forward and wrap her in a hug. “I’ll still come over for dinner. Still call to ask what setting to use for delicates. I just...I need my own space.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder. “You’ve always needed your own sky to stretch under.”
I smile into her sweater. “And now I’ve got one. It’s just two miles away.”
She laughs softly. “Alright. But I expect lasagna night attendance. And updates on any scandalous neighbor romances.”
I groan. “Please, no more scandal. I’m maxed out.”
She pulls back, grinning. “Famous last words.”
And still, somewhere in the back of my mind, there he is. Knox. The way he said my name like it still meant something to him.
And the truth that rattles around quietly inside me: I didn’t hate it. Not even a little.
Chapter six
Brynn
IopenthedoortoPenny’s Café just before noon on Sunday, met with the din of conversation and the cozy scent of coffee and maple syrup. The place hasn’t changed. Same chalkboard menu, same squeaky floorboard two steps in. Like everything else in Cedar Falls, it feels more like stepping into a memory than a café.
Seeing Kate again has been a long time coming. We’ve texted since the game—little things, surface-level—but sitting down face-to-face feels bigger. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. What if we’ve changed? What if her daughter doesn’tlike me? I want to believe we can pick up where we left off, but life has a way of shifting people apart while you’re busy looking the other way. Still, I owe her this. And if I’m honest, I miss her more than I ever let myself admit.
I scan the dining room until I spot a tiny hand pointing from a corner booth. Kate sits beside her daughter, her face lighting up the second she sees me. She waves, her smile wide and undeserved.
As I make my way toward them, nerves gather sharp and quick. Evie watches me approach, her gaze cautious in that no-nonsense way kids have—already trying to figure out if I’m safe or strange.
When I reach the table, Kate leans in and gently nudges her. “Evie, say hello to Brynn. You remember her from the football game?”
Evie lifts her gaze. “Hello,” she whispers.
It’s soft, but it’s enough to loosen something tight in my chest.
“Hi, Evie.” I smile, keeping my tone light. “I like your dress.”
Kate stands and pulls me into a quick hug. “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she says, settling back down and brushing crumbs off the table while rearranging a line of crayons in front of Evie.
“Me too,” I say as I slide into the seat across from her. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry we lost touch when I moved.”
