Page 34 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Pumpkins, Pawprints, and Pine Trees

The Montana air turned crisp, with golden leaves swirling through the streets of Billings and collecting like confetti on porches and sidewalks.

Linnie was always the first to notice the shift in seasons —trading her tank tops for oversized sweaters, cinnamon candles lighting every room in their apartment, and steaming mugs of cider resting on coasters next to folded laundry.

The first autumn in their new place felt like something out of a movie.

Bria was buzzing with nervous energy, high school halls calling her back as she officially kicked off her sophomore year.

Linnie braided her hair the morning of the first day and packed her favorite snacks in a mini survival kit with a note that said, " Kick ass.

But also stay soft." Blaine snapped a photo of the girls on the porch, swearing he ’ d frame it.

Halloween came quick, and with it, chaos in the best way.

Linnie had the brilliant idea to dress Ember, their squishy-faced pug, as a Denver Broncos cheerleader.

Blaine swore the dog looked humiliated, but the photos were priceless—especially the one where Ember was standing on her hind legs mid-bark.

Blaine went as a Broncos player, obviously.

Linnie dressed as a referee, cheeky black shorts and striped crop top included, and he could barely focus the whole night.

But then, just days later, the joy was dimmed.

Snickers, Blaine ’ s childhood puppy, passed unexpectedly.

The loss hit hard. He didn ’ t say much the first day.

Just held Linnie tighter than usual, laid on the couch with Ember curled against his chest, staring at old photos on his phone.

“ she used to sleep by the dryer when it was running,” he whispered once, voice cracking. “ Didn ’ t matter if it was summer. ”

Linnie didn ’ t try to fix it. She just curled beside him and let him grieve. A framed photo of Snickers with her tongue out and a Broncos bandana now sat in the hallway by the front door. Always remembered.

Thanksgiving arrived like a warm embrace.

Blaine ’ s mom ’ s side of the family packed the house—booming laughter, mismatched chairs, and five different stuffing recipes.

Linnie was overwhelmed at first, balancing three different conversations and passing dishes with hands she didn ’ t recognize.

But Blaine kept one hand on her lower back every time he moved.

A grounding reminder: You ’ re mine. You belong here.

His Grandpa Joe was a character. “ Lemme show you the realfamily tradition,” he grinned, leaning in for a cheek kiss—then turned last second and landed a smooch right on Linnie ’ s lips.

Her eyes flew open, and the whole room exploded with laughter.

“ Welcome to the family, sugar!” someone hollered.

The backyard turned into a muddy field after pie, with Blaine and Linnie tossing the football around with his twin boy cousins— gritty and wild—and a sweet little cousin who wore a tutu and called every pass a “ sparkle bomb.”

Winter settled in quietly. Linnie booked a mini photo shoot with a local photographer for Christmas cards.

She wore an emerald green sweater dress, and Blaine rocked a maroon flannel that matched Ember ’ s scarf.

Snowflakes dusted their hair in a way that felt staged by the universe.

They laughed so hard during the photos—especially when Ember peed on Blaine ’ s boot mid-snap.

Their first Christmas together in the apartment was nothing grand, but it was theirs .

Stockings hung on the wall with command strips.

A tiny tree from the corner lot decorated with Target ornaments and a star Blaine insisted looked like it belonged on a third- grader ’ s project.

They stayed up Christmas Eve in socks, eating cinnamon rolls on the couch while Home Alone played for the second time.

Linnie gifted him a leather wallet with “ You ’ re my favorite chapter” engraved inside.

Blaine gave her a silver bracelet with tiny birthstones—hers, his, and Ember ’ s.Their life wasn ’ t perfect.

But it was warm, chaotic, cozy, and full of moments that stitched themselves into forever.

New Year ’ s Eve had always felt like a celebration of everyone else —a million countdowns, resolutions made too loud, and kisses that didn ’ t mean much.

But this year was different. This year, it was his birthday.

Blaine turned 20 on the last day of the year, and Linnie made it all about him—quietly, intentionally, and with all the love she had.

The day started slow. Snow fell softly outside their apartment window while they laid in bed longer than usual.

Emberlynn slept between them with her head on Blaine ’ s shoulder, snoring like a tiny tractor.

Linnie had made breakfast—his favorite: thick-cut bacon, pancakes with too much syrup, and eggs she insisted were “ extra fluffy.”

“ Happy birthday, baby,” she whispered as she straddled him in bed, kissing his jaw and down his neck. Blaine groaned, pulling her into him, hands on her hips, but she pulled away with a grin.

“ Not yet,” she teased. “ You ’ ve got to save some energy for later.”

That evening, she surprised him with reservations at a candle-lit steakhouse downtown.

She wore a fitted black dress that made his mouth dry and heels that clicked like a metronome in his chest. His girl had always been beautiful—but tonight she was drop-dead, knock-the-air-out-of-his-lungs stunning.

“ Twenty looks good on you,” she said, tucking her hand into his on the way inside.

Dinner was rich and slow—steak and scalloped potatoes, bubbly non-alcoholic cider in champagne flutes, and laughter that curled around the flicker of candlelight. No phones. No social media. Just each other.

When they got home, Linnie had the bath already running. The water was warm, laced with vanilla and amber-scented bubbles. The lights were low. Ember was tucked into her bed with a new chew toy Linnie had picked out just for tonight.

“ You spoil me,” Blaine said, stepping into the tub behind her, water curling around their bodies.

“ You deserve to be spoiled,” she replied softly, leaning back against his chest, her head under his chin.

They sat like that for a while, her fingers tracing his forearm, his hands wrapped around her stomach. No rush. Just warmth. Just love. The bath turned into soft kisses. Kisses turned into long, slow touches. And then they were wrapped in each other again—steamy and tangled in every way possible.

Later, they moved to the bed, skin still damp, hearts pounding. The clock struck midnight somewhere in the middle of it all, but neither of them noticed.

It wasn ’ t fireworks in the sky.

It was the way she whispered “ I love you” in his ear.

The way he kissed her shoulder afterward.

The way they both smiled in the dark, utterly full and completely wrapped up in each other.

Blaine didn ’ t make a New Year ’ s resolution.

He just knew one thing for sure: if every year felt like this—with her—he didn ’ t need anything else.

The new year rolled in gently—snow melting into rain, and days slowly stretching longer. But what didn ’ t fade with the season was Blaine and Linnie ’ s love. It grew louder, deeper, and more sacred with every passing day .

Valentine ’ s came with the sweetest surprise.

Linnie opened their apartment door to two dozen red roses—so vibrant and lush they practically swallowed her.

She squealed, arms barely able to wrap around the bouquet, the stems towering above her head.

Blaine stood behind his phone, capturing the exact moment she held them against her five-foot frame, her eyes shining, a wide grin splitting her face. It was his new favorite picture.

She was glowing.

Blaine sent the photo to Logan with the caption:

“ How ’ d I get so lucky, man?”

Logan had moved to Bozeman for college and was prepping to go overseas in the military.

Blaine missed him more than he liked to admit.

Daily texts weren ’ t the same as seeing his best friend across the field or hanging out late with pizza and dumb movie quotes.

But he was proud of him—and every time Logan sent a selfie in a hoodie with a giant military logo and snow in the background,

Blaine saved it in a folder marked “ Brotherhood.”

Practice with the Locos kicked up a notch. Chase was back at it with full force, giving Blaine a run for his money during drills. The competition felt good. Electric.

And then—April. The day before their anniversary, Linnie came home to a quiet apartment and a note taped to the door: “ Put on something you love. Comfortable. Cute. Warm. And come meet me.”

She found Blaine down by the river, where string lights dangled in between two trees and a blanket of her favorite snacks were set out —along with printed photos from their entire year together: the pool party, Bozeman with his grandparents, Yellowstone, their first apartment, that first Christmas card shoot.

He kissed her hand and whispered, “ Happy anniversary, baby.” She cried.

He kissed her through it. And then they laid under the stars, Blaine wrapping his arms around her and tracing circles on her back, whispering how this was just the beginning.

The next day, the season kicked off. It was Blaine ’ s first official game with the Laurel Locos.

Linnie, Sadie, Jade, and her mom Summer all rolled up hot, wearing team colors and waving giant signs.

Linnie had #15 painted on both cheeks. Her smile could ’ ve lit up the whole stadium.

But the day wasn ’ t without tension. The Locos had brought in a new dance team—fresh faces, new attitudes, and a little too much edge.

Linnie wanted to support them. She tried.

But rumors spread fast, and a few jealous dancers didn ’ t take too kindly to her history, calling her a “ washed up cheer captain” and rolling eyes whenever she came near.

It hit her harder than she expected. She wasn ’ t used to being iced out, especially not after everything she gave the Bombshells and the Bullet community.

Halfway through halftime, she walked away from the sidelines, overwhelmed and fighting tears. That ’ s when Blaine saw her. Still in full gear, helmet in hand, grass in his hair. He jogged over without hesitation, pulling her close.

“ Hey. You ’ re okay. I got you,” he murmured against her temple.

He didn ’ t need to say more. Just held her. Right there by the locker room doors. Letting her take a breath. They went back out and won that game.

And after? Linnie wiped her eyes, fixed her smile, and got the perfect photo with her favorite wide receiver—#15.

Her arms around his sweaty jersey, helmet tucked under his arm, and their heads pressed close.

It wasn ’ t posed. It was real. The photo screamed one thing: We made it through. Together.