Page 27 of Hometown Touchdown
Mom ignores me and keeps going. “You’re one to talk, you named your dog after Elvis’ wife. She just moved here, doesn’t know many people, and I thought—well,Knox is such a nice guy. Maybe he’d show her around.”
“You thought I’d take a stranger and her muffin dog on a tour of Cedar Falls?”
Mom rests her chin in her hand, completely unbothered. “You’re not getting any younger, sweetie.”
“Mom.”
“You’re almost twenty-nine.”
“Dad?”
Dad raises his hands. “Don’t look at me. I told her to leave it alone.”
“And yet here we are,” I mutter.
“She’s not asking for a marriage proposal, Knox,” Mom says gently. “It’s one drink. One little Tuesday night. Just…try.”
I look at her. Really look at her. She’s trying so hard to fill in a blank I haven’t asked anyone to fill. Her heart’s in the right place. It always is.
But what I can’t tell her—what I haven’t toldanyone—is that there’s already someone to fill that space again in my head. Someone who lives on the other side of my kitchen wall. Someone I haven’t stopped thinking about since the second she came back into town.
I rake a hand through my hair and sigh. “I’ll think about it.”
Mom brightens like I just said yes. “That’s all I ask.”
“And if I say no?”
She smiles sweetly. “Then I’ll just reschedule it for Thursday.”
Dad chuckles into his coffee.
I lean back in my chair and shake my head. “God help me.”
Chapter thirteen
Brynn
Ispotmymomthroughthe window before I even walk into Cedar Perk. She’s waving like she hasn’t seen me in months instead of, you know, last weekend. Her lipstick is slightly smudged from her cappuccino, her cardigan buttoned one-off as usual.
Inside, the café hums with soft chatter and the scent of espresso and fresh pastries. I slide into the seat across from her.
“Hi, sweetheart!” she beams. “I ordered you the chicken salad sandwich and hibiscus tea. And yes, I remembered, no onions.”
I smile, because how can I not? “Thanks, Mom.”
She squints at me, head tilted. “You look tired.”
“I work. Like a normal adult.”
“You work remotely,” she points out. “Which means you can do it in your pajamas.”
“And yet I still show up to Zoom meetings looking mildly professional. The bar is high.”
She waves a hand like I’m being dramatic and takes another sip of her drink. “Still at that same company? The techy one with all the acronyms?”
“Yup. Same job, different zip code.”
“Well, I’m glad they let you work remote. I get to see you more. Though…” She trails off meaningfully, stirring her coffee. “I don’t think you’re takingfulladvantage of being back in Cedar Falls.”
