Page 51 of Hometown Touchdown
Brynn:You up?
Me:Yeah.
Brynn:Come outside. Back fence.
My stomach flips. God, I’m pathetic.
I grab a hoodie, Priscilla trots after me, and we step out into the backyard. I don’t turn on the porch light, hoping the darkness will help hide everything I’m feeling. And there she is—a soft silhouette behind the wooden fence, her blonde hair a halo in the moonlight.
I stop three feet from the divider like it might bite me.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
We stare at the fence like it’s something alive. A barricade of splinters and old grudges.
“I wanted to say thank you,” she says quietly. “For not letting that kiss become another mistake.”
I swallow. “Pretty sure it still counts as one.”
“Maybe.” She pauses. “But maybe it also counts as something else.”
The silence stretches between us, thick and unsteady. Priscilla sits at my feet and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s saying ‘get over yourselves.’
“Just like you said, I want to talk,” Brynn says. “Really talk. Not in Cedar Falls, though. Not where my mom can pass you a casserole or where Haddie Carmichael can post about us on that damn Facebook page. Somewhere neutral.”
“Roanoke?”
“Yeah. There’s a diner there. Olive Street Cafe. Good food, no familiar faces.”
I nod even though she can’t see it. “Okay. When?”
“Saturday? Late afternoon? I can meet you there.”
“Are you sure you want this?” I ask, hating how raw my voice sounds. “Because I can’t go backward, Brynn. I don’t know how to do that with you.”
There’s a breath, a rustle of fabric. Then, “I just need you to know the full story, Knox.”
And just like that, I’m not breathing.
The fence groans between us in the wind. I want to climb it. Tear it down. Replace every knot and nail with her name. But instead, I stay where I am, fists clenched, heart thudding.
“Goodnight, Knox,” she whispers.
“Goodnight, Bunny.”
Before she walks inside, she turns back toward me. “And Knox?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop calling me ‘Bunny.’ I’m a grown woman and deserve a better nickname.”
Damn her and her sass. “Noted.”
And then she’s gone. Just like last time. But maybe—maybe this time, she’s not walking away.
I stare at the fence for a long time after she’s gone, Priscilla leaning into my leg like she knows I need the anchor.
