Page 112 of Hometown Touchdown
“Do you mind if I get a photo?” she beams. “This istherow of power, right here. Generations of Cedar Falls pride.”
“Oh Lord,” Kinsey groans. “Don’t let her tag me. Last time she did, my ex texted within the hour.”
Haddie waves her off. “You looked hot, honey, that’s onhim.Now smile big!”
We all scoot together, shoulder to shoulder. Evie climbs up into my lap at the last second, holding her coloring sheet proudly like it’s a sign. Kate fluffs her hair. My mom grabs my hand. Mrs. Dalton’s arm comes around my back.
Haddie snaps three in rapid succession and then lowers her camera, grinning. “Beautiful. I’ll post it with something tasteful. Maybe, ‘The Real MVPs.’”
Mr. Dalton chuckles. “Add ‘Freezing Our Butts Off in the Name of Glory.’”
My dad chimes in, “’Bleeding Blue Since ’82.’”
Haddie winks. “I love it. I’ll tag you all.”
“Uh—I don’t need to be tagged.” I blink. But I think better of it. “You know what, who cares?”
Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension in my chest loosens a little. Because this is home. Not just the field or the bleachers or the game—but this row. These people. The teasing. The community. The love.
And somewhere down there on that field is the man I love, trying to lead a group of boys into something they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.
I settle back into my seat as the team runs onto the field, the cheer squad lifting their signs, the crowd roaring like it might just shake the bleachers. My pulse jumps.
Evie cups her hands around her mouth. “GO WILDCATS! GO COACH KNOX!”
I smile and whisper to her, “That’s my guy.”
She nods sagely. “He’s really big.”
“Yep. But soft, too. Like a marshmallow.”
Evie gasps. “No way. He looks like a dragon.”
“Well,” I say, pressing a kiss to her hair, “he’s my dragon.”
Chapter fifty-four
Knox
There’ssomethingsacredaboutthe hush before kickoff.
It’s not quiet, not really—the stands are packed, the band’s warming up, and I can hear Cam yelling at the concessions stand because they don’t have gum for sale—but there’s this sliver of stillness beneath it all. A thread of tension that tightens just behind your ribs.
Final game of the season. District championship. Home turf. And my boys, my goddamn boys, lined up in that tunnel like warriors.
I stand just behind them, headset in one hand, the other on Mac’s shoulder pad. The stadium lights glare against the misty air, giving the night a kind of cinematic glow, like even the sky knows this one matters.
“Don’t look at the crowd,” I tell him. “Just look at your brothers.”
Mac nods. His jaw tightens. “We’re ready, Coach.”
He means it. They all do.
We’ve clawed our way here. Scratched out wins where no one expected us to. We’re banged up. Taped together. But we’re still standing.
When the announcer calls our name, we explode onto the field like thunder. The crowd roars. School colors wave in the stands. My chest swells.
It’s game time.
