Page 7 of Hometown Touchdown
Dad grins. “You could always stop by Gordy’s. Kinsey’s bartending.”
Gordy’s. The name makes my stomach flip.
The same bar where I had my first legal drink and in turn, earned me my first real hangover. Also where I once slow danced with Knox Dalton to a terrible cover band and thought I was going to marry him.
Great idea, Dad.
But the idea of going home and staring at my old ceiling is worse. At least Gordy’s has beer.
“Maybe I will.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “That’s my girl. Rip off the Band-Aid.”
The neon flicker of Gordy’s Bar & Grill blinks at me like a dare.
I stand outside for a full ten seconds, fingers wrapped tight around my purse strap, trying to convince myself this isn’t a mistake.
I muster up the courage to pull the handle and when I step inside, the smell hits first—beer, fried food, and something oddly comforting. The scent of youth and regret. It’s like no time has passed at all.
I get two steps in before I feel it—the air shift. The hum of conversation dips, just slightly. Heads turn. Small-town radar in full force.
And then I see him. Knox Dalton.
I saw him briefly at the game, but now it’s like the spotlight’s been switched on. He’s at the back corner, leaning in his chair like a man who owns the place—which, if you ask any high school yearbook, he basically does.
He hasn’t changed much. Broader maybe. More solid. He’s still got that dark, brooding, football energy. A neatly trimmed beard along his jaw like he rolled out of a lumberjack fantasy. And those eyes of his. Stormy. Sharp. Watching me like he knew I was coming all along.
He raises his beer in a lazy toast. Like he’s daring me to walk over.
So I do.
Every step feels like a challenge, like I’m moving through molasses and memory. My legs want to turn back. My pride won’t let me. I stop in front of his table.
“Well, well,” Knox says, voice like gravel warmed by whiskey. “Look who finally remembered where home is.”
I paste on a smile. “Didn’t realize I needed your blessing to come back.”
He leans back, slow and casual. “You didn’t need it to leave either.”
Ouch. Right to the jugular.
“I came over here to be nice,” I say, folding my arms. “Maybe you’ve heard of it. Basic decency? We don’t have to be friends, but I’m going to be in Cedar Falls for a while. Let’s at least pretend we’re not mortal enemies.”
He shrugs. “Great idea. But I have a better one, let’s act like strangers.”
My teeth clench. “Wow. I can see one of us clings to the past a little too much.”
“Just trying to stay out of the way. Maybe you should do the same.”
“Fine,” I say, jaw tight. “I’ll pretend I never knew you, Knox Dalton.”
He lifts his beer. “Should be easy. You had a six-year head start.”
That one burns.
I blink, fighting the heat behind my eyes. I will not cry in Gordy’s. Not tonight.
“I already said I was sorry years ago,” I snap. “If you’re still bitter, that’s not my problem.”
