Page 59 of Hometown Touchdown
I quickly run into my place, feed Priscilla, and change out of my stuffy clothes.
I yell goodbye to Pres and run out the door. Rounding the garage, I climb the steps, knock once before I can think better of it. And then the door creaks open.
She stands there in that damn dress and those heels that made my knees weak in the diner. Her hair’s half-fallen from whatever she had it in, and her eyes are still damp around the edges. But the second she sees me, her whole body tenses like she’s bracing for another blow.
She doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at me, standing in the doorway, eyes wide like she’s not sure if I’m real or some memory she conjured up in a moment of weakness. And I get it. But then she steps aside and lets me in, slow and silent. The second I’m inside, the air changes. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just…loaded. Her place smells like cinnamon and lavender, like comfort and something warm I forgot I’d missed. My chest tightens, because I want to touch her but more than that, I want her tobelieveme. Believe that she doesn’t have to carry this alone. That I’m not going anywhere. That the truth is out now, and nothing—not even that—could make me want her less. She closes the door softly behind me, and when she turns around, the look in her eyes tells me I’m not the only one hanging on by a thread. The distance between us isn’t just a few feet. It’s six years. A breakup. A heartbreak. A diagnosis. And I know in my soul, I still want to cross it. I still wanther.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Knox—”
“I don’t need time,” I say, stepping closer, voice steady. “I don’t need to think it over or make some big pros-and-cons list. I just need you.”
She blinks, startled.
“I don’t care what a diagnosis says. I don’t care what the future looks like on paper. All I care about is who I build it with. And I want that person to be you.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “But—”
“I want you, Brynn,” I say again, gentler now. “Not the idea of you. Not the maybe-someday-babies or the what-ifs. Just…you. However you come. However life looks with you in it. If we both want children, we can adopt, we can foster, we can steal Evie on weekends. Family is love, not biology. So don’t you dare think I wouldn’t want you because of this. Because I do, I want it. I want you. I want all of it.”
Her lips part like she’s going to argue, but her breath catches instead.
“I love you,” I add, because it needs to be said. Out loud. No shadows left between us. “I loved you before, and I love you now. And I’m not letting you walk away again thinking you’re not enough. Because you are. To me you’re everything. You always have been.”
Her shoulders sag, relief hitting her like a wave. She opens her mouth, maybe to say something, maybe to cry, but I don’t give her the chance.
I take two steps, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. My hand cradles the side of her face, thumb brushing just under her eye, and then I kiss her.
It’s aching, raw, years in the making. Our mouths meet like a collision. Her fingers grip the front of my shirt, pulling me in, anchoring herself to something solid. And I go willingly.
I sink into her, one arm slipping around her waist, lifting her slightly, backing her against the wall as the kiss deepens, slows. Our lips brush again and again, softer now, reverent. Like we need to memorize it.
Her hand cups the back of my neck, the pad of her thumb brushing my jaw as she exhales a sound so quiet, so full ofeverything we’ve both carried, that it damn near breaks me in two.
We stay there for a moment, just kissing, breathing each other in. Every pass of her lips against mine feels like a promise. Every press of my hands around her feels like home.
When we finally pause, both of us breathless, she lets out a shaky laugh, and I lean my forehead against hers.
Her eyes drift shut. “You’re sure, Knox?”
“One hundred percent. Just tell me you want to try too.”
She nods against me. “I really do. I want this.”
Those words fall in my chest and I wrap my arms around her, breathing her in. After a moment, she shifts and my body is fully aware of hers against mine.
“God, this dress,” I murmur, voice rough. “You’re killing me.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, mischief blooming through the mist in her gaze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice dropping as I look at her. “I need to see you out of it.”
And when she pulls me toward the couch, there’s not a trace of hesitation left between us.
Chapter thirty
Brynn
