Page 19 of Hometown Touchdown
“What are you two doing here?”
Mom strides in. “We brought groceries to stock your fridge,” she says, unloading bags onto the counter.
Dad ruffles my hair as he walks by. “And blow-up mattresses,” he adds proudly. “Thought we’d have ourselves a little sleepover.”
I blink. “A sleepover?”
“Well, your furniture won’t be here until tomorrow,” Mom says, already halfway through my barely-there kitchen. “So I thought—why not make it fun? I brought face masks!” She pulls two shiny foil packets from her purse like she’s performing a magic trick.
“Wow. The deluxe welcome package,” I deadpan.
She grins. “You're welcome.”
I smile, against my better judgment. “Thanks, Mom. That actually sounds kinda nice.”
I pause, then glance toward the wall I now share with a certain grumpy former quarterback. “Hey—actually, I’ve got a question.”
They both freeze. Mom goes a little too still. Dad suddenly finds the empty fridge fascinating.
“Why didn’t you tell me Knox built these?”
Mom shoots Dad a look. Busted. “We didn’t want to deter you from a great place,” she says, too casually.
Dad grabs a can of sparkling water. “And it’s not like you have toseehim.”
I point to the wall. “Newsflash, he lives right there. I could probably hear him floss if I tried hard enough.”
Mom winces. “Oh.”
“Yeah.Oh.” I fold my arms. “Did it seriously not occur to you that this might be a little bit important?”
“You’d already signed the lease,” she defends, “and we didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“Youknowhe’s a big deal, Mom. You’ve literally read Facebook threads about him. There's, like, a full-blown local gossip saga archived under his name.”
She shrugs, still looking way too calm. “I just figured if it came up, you’d handle it. Besides, the kitchen has quartz counters. That’s worth a little emotional discomfort, right?”
Dad nearly chokes while taking a drink, trying not to laugh.
I narrow my eyes. “You two are lucky I don’t have a couch to dramatically throw myself on right now.”
Mom smiles sweetly. “Good thing we brought air mattresses.”
Chapter nine
Knox
It’sWednesdayafternoon,andthe air is thick with sun and sweat. My guys are halfway through warm-up drills. Agility ladders, cone footwork, and a rotation of shuttle sprints. Helmets off, cleats kicking up turf, voices bouncing across the field.
My mind drifts to my new neighbor. She’s not backing down. She’s not moving.
I thought maybe it could turn temporary. That she’d crash here for a week or two, realize it was a mistake, and bolt back to the city where she left me behind. But no. She’s unpackingboxes. Decorating. Laughing through the wall like she’s planning to stick around.
And it’s wrecking me more than I want to admit.
I try not to think about the little things. The soft scrape of her blinds in the morning. The smell of cinnamon that drifts out her door when she leaves. The way Priscilla trots straight to her porch every time we go outside, wagging her tail like she’s already picked a favorite human—and spoiler alert, it’s not me.
I tell myself it’s fine. That I can handle this. That I’ve grown up, moved on, let go.
