Page 85 of Hometown Touchdown
My parents are the ticking clock I can’t ignore. Mom will be shocked. Dad will have questions. And I don’t know if they’ll see this as healing or backsliding. But either way, they need to hear it fromme.
I sigh as I grab my clutch, sliding my phone and lipstick inside, double-checking that I didn’t forget anything. The clock reads 6:51. Nine minutes to go before I’m supposed to walk next door—and my heart decides now is the perfect time to turn into a drumline.
I just know that Knox is waiting. Tie on. Lights low. Probably already thinking of ways to make me blush before I’ve even made it through the door.
I bite back a smile and turn to my closet one last time, reaching for something I haven’t worn in years but could never quite bring myself to get rid of—his old varsity jacket. The sleeves are way too long, and it still smells faintly like Old Spice and late-night drives. But it was the first thing he ever gave me. Back when we were all wide eyes and homecoming games and making out behind the gym.
I fold it carefully and slip it into my overnight bag, settling it next to his T-shirt and my favorite sleep shorts. It feels right. As if the past and present are getting cozy together, finally figuring out how to fit.
With one last glance in the mirror, I smooth my dress and zip the bag shut. My cheeks are flushed, my heart is racing, and yeah—there’s no mistaking the full-body thrill of knowing what’s waiting for me next door.
I flick off the light and step outside into the cold late October air, dress swishing around my legs, nerves dancing in my chest. Tonight isn’t about holding back. Tonight’s about leaning in.
And maybe making Knox Dalton just a little bit speechless.
When I knock, my heart is thudding so loud I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it before the door even opens.
Then it does and I forget how to breathe.
Because standing there—backlit by the soft, golden glow of string lights and looking like every high school fantasy reimagined through an adult woman’s lens—is Knox Dalton in a navy suit and a black tie. His shirt is crisp. His jawline is clean and sharp with just the right amount of scruff. His eyes, usually calm and steady, go wide when they land on me.
And then everything about him goes still. Like I’ve short-circuited him. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink. Just drinks me in, head to toe.
I smooth my hand down the front of the silk dress, suddenly hyper-aware of the slit, the neckline, the way the fabric hugs my waist like it was poured on. “Hi,” I manage to say, voice shaky and soft.
His mouth opens like he’s going to speak, but nothing comes out.
And God, the way he looks at me—like he’s seeing me for the first time again, like I’ve just shifted the axis of his entire world—it’s enough to send my heart ricocheting straight into my ribs.
“Knox?” I ask, a tiny smile tugging at my lips. “You okay?”
His gaze finally lifts to mine, and I watch him swallow, his voice coming out low and rough. “You look…Brynn, you look unbelievable.”
The words land somewhere between reverence and awe, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His hand comes up, slow, tentative, and then falls back to his side like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch me yet.
I step inside, closing the door behind me, and his eyes trail down again—over the dip of the neckline, the curve of my hips, the length of leg exposed by the slit—and then back up to my face, where they hold, full of heat and something almost vulnerable.
“You picked the dress,” I say, voice light but teasing. “Didn’t think I’d wear it?”
“I hoped you would wear it, but holy shit, I didn’t think it would look likethat,” he says, his tone unsteady in a way that makes my skin flush. “I mean—I knew you’d look good, Brynn. But this? You’re…stunning. I don’t even have a better word for it. You walked in and I forgot what I was supposed to say.”
That makes me grin. “You’re saying it now,” I laugh.
He takes a slow step toward me, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m saying it badly.”
“You’re saying it perfectly.”
There’s a pause where we just stand there, inches apart, our chemistry crackling so loud I swear it could short out every light in the room. His gaze drops to my lips, then my throat, then the neckline again, and I know exactly where his mind has gone.
He takes my bag and sets it on the bottom stair, then returns to me. When he finally touches me, it’s with both hands at my waist, strong and steady, anchoring me in place as he stares at me like I’ve already undone him.
“This is going to be the hardest night of my life,” he murmurs.
I laugh softly. “You’re the one who asked me to wear the dress.”
“Biggest mistake of my life. Also the smartest.”
He leans down and brushes the softest kiss against my cheek, just enough to tease, not nearly enough to satisfy, and pulls back before I can chase more.
