Page 115 of Hometown Touchdown
Cool. This is going great.
My mom smiles kindly at me, like she can feel the flop sweat brewing under my collar. “So, Knox,” she says, “you said you had something you wanted to say?”
Right. Time to get on the field.
I set my napkin down, sit up straighter, and fold my hands like I’m in a very high-stakes parent-teacher conference. “I did, yeah.”
Four heads turn toward me. I take a breath. Then another. And I do the only thing that ever works when I’m spiraling.
I think about Brynn.
About the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s overthinking. About how she still lights up when Evie runs into a room. About the way she looks at me like I’m the hottest thing she’s ever seen.
And suddenly, I’m not nervous. I’m just sure.
“I wanted to have this lunch because I love Brynn,” I say. “Not in some easy, perfect way. But in the real, complicated, every-damn-day kind of way. I love her for everything she is—funny, fiery, brilliant as hell—and I want to build a life with her. One where she never has to second-guess whether she’s wanted or worthy.”
Mrs. Marlow is already blinking back tears. I keep going.
“She’s had to carry more than most people see. And sometimes she tries to convince herself she’s not allowed to have the good stuff. But I want to be the man who reminds her, every single day, that she is. I’ll fight for her. I’ll stay. Even when it’s hard.Especiallywhen it’s hard.”
My voice catches, but I steady it.
“I want to ask Brynn to marry me. And it would mean the world to me to have your blessing.”
There’s a long pause.
Mr. Marlow sets down his fork, lacing his fingers over his stomach. His gaze is steady, thoughtful. Protective—but not hard.
“She’s always been strong,” he says quietly. “But she’s also always been the kind of girl who tries to carry everything herself. Pushes away the things she wants most when they scare her.”
He glances toward my mom, then back to me. “I’ve seen how she looks at you now. And more importantly, I’ve seen howyoulook ather.You don’t just love her—you see her. You show up. And I think that’s exactly what she needs.”
He leans forward slightly. “You have my blessing, son. But just promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
He nods. “Don’t let her talk herself out of happiness.”
I smile. “She won’t. Not on my watch.”
Mrs. Marlow lets out a soft laugh and wipes under her eyes. “I really hope she says yes.”
“She will,” I say, with a confidence I didn’t know I had until now. “I’ve got the rest of my life to show her why.”
I exhale fully for the first time all day.
And as lunch carries on—Mrs. Marlow talking about her book club, Dad going on about the local football camp, Mr. Marlow demanding to know what, exactly, aioli is—I lean back in my chair and let myself feel it.
There’s a shift—a quiet, undeniable moment where everything changes. Because now, it’s not a question ofifI’ll ask her to marry me. It’show.The ring’s already waiting in my sock drawer, and the plan is starting to take shape. Because Brynn Marlow is my forever girl—and I’m ready to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows it.
Chapter fifty-six
Brynn
Knoxisfoldinglaundry.
Like, actual folding. Not his usual chaotic method of stacking vaguely warm T-shirts into what looks like a cotton-based topographical map. Tonight, he’s deliberate. Matching socks, smoothing fabric, even separating my things into a neat little pile on the far end of the couch.
