Page 67 of Hometown Touchdown
Kinsey arches a brow. Kate smirks.
I slide into the booth, cheeks warm, and say the only thing that feels true right now.
“Okay. I need to talk about last night.”
Kate leans across the table like she’s about to interrogate me, but kindly says, “So…what happened?”
I wrap my hands around the coffee mug in front of me, trying to decide how to explain it without sounding like a teenager on a rom-com high. “We talked. A lot. We just…connected. Like no time had passed, but also like we’re different people now in the best ways.”
“No sex?” Kinsey asks, clearly shocked. “You’re wearing his hoodie and you look like you’ve been loved on. You’re telling me there was no mattress dancing?”
I laugh. “No sex. He said he wants to wait. It was better than any night I’ve had in…a long time.”
Kinsey tilts her head. “So you’re emotionally wrecked, huh? Like in a good, soft-core way?”
“Very soft-core,” I say. “And wrecked is…probably accurate.”
Kate smiles, it’s the kind of smile that says she knows exactly what I mean, like she’s remembering the first time someone looked at her like she was a future instead of a phase. “And how do you feel this morning? Besides floaty and wearing a man’s hoodie like a badge of honor.”
I shrug, trying not to grin too hard. “Good. Nervous. Like I’m standing at the edge of something and I haven’t decided if I’m going to jump or just sit down and admire the view.”
Kinsey narrows her eyes. “And he knows this isn’t just nostalgia?”
“He knows,” I say softly. “He said he wants to see where this can go. And I do, too. But…”
“But,” Kate echoes gently.
“I asked him to keep it between us. For now.”
They both go still.
“I know how this town works,” I say quickly. “I just want some time for us to figure things out.”
Kate nods slowly. “That’s fair.”
Kinsey stirs her iced tea with a straw, watching me. “Okay, but playing devil’s advocate here—how long do you think a man like Knox is gonna be cool with that? Men like toclaimthings when they care. You think he wants to sit on the bench while everyone in town thinks you’re still single?”
That hits a little harder than I expect.
“I don’t want him to feel hidden,” I say. “But I also can’t go back to being watched all the time. Especially when I haven’t even figured out what I’m doing.”
“You think he’ll wait?” Kate asks.
I nod, but it’s slow. “He said he would.”
Kinsey leans back, gaze softer now. “Then he probably will. But girl, don’t let your fear write the rules. There’s a difference between protecting something and hiding it.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Because she’s not wrong. And that’s exactly what I’ve been wrestling with—how much of this silence is self-preservation, and how much is avoidance.
The weight of that truth sits in my chest for a second before I draw in a breath. “There’s something else,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Something I haven’t told many people.”
Kate straightens. Kinsey sits up.
I run my finger along the rim of my mug. “Before the wedding. Months before, actually. I got a diagnosis. Premature ovarian insufficiency.”
Silence. Total, respectful, grounding silence.
I swallow hard. “It means I have little to no chance of having biological children. Henry didn’t handle it well. Said things that still stick in my mind, even now. That he wanted a woman who could give him a family. That I wasn’t what he signed up for.”
