Page 31 of Kellan & Emmett (Gomillion High Reunion #1)

Kellan

The last whistle blast cut through the hot afternoon air, sharp enough to send a flock of sparrows skittering from the chain-link fence. For a beat the field went still, then sneakers squeaked and kids came rushing at me, some grinning ear to ear, others with their mouths pulled tight like they didn’t want the day to end. Arms wrapped around my waist, little hands tugged at my shirt, a dozen voices all calling my name.

“Coach Hayes! Watch me throw!”

“Coach, I’m gonna miss you!”

“You promised to sign my ball!”

I laughed, loud and helpless, the sound catching in my throat. Sweat ran down my back, sunscreen and cut grass thick in the air. I crouched to tie one boy’s shoelace and got ambushed by another who slapped a goodbye high-five against my palm.

The parents drifted in from the parking lot, folding chairs under their arms, water bottles sweating in their hands. They shook mine, thanked me like I’d given their kids something more than drills and scrimmages.

“Confidence,”

one mom said.

“You made him believe he belonged.”

That hit me harder than any trophy I’d ever lifted.

Coach Rick clapped me on the back, the weight of it steady, grounding.

“Hell of a job, Hayes. Door’s open if you want to come back next summer. Or more than summer. Kids like you. You’ve got a knack.”

I nodded, throat tight. Summer work wasn’t a career, I knew that. But the way he said it — like there could be something permanent if I wanted it, if I asked — made my chest ache in a good way.

The two high school volunteers lingered at the edge of the field, shuffling like they weren’t sure how to say goodbye. One finally blurted.

“We learned a lot from you, Coach.”

Their voices cracked like the kids they still were, and I saw a younger me in their restless faces.

Pride swelled in me, sharp and unexpected. Not the fleeting rush of a touchdown, not the roar of a stadium. This was quieter, steadier. Real.

I stood there in the heat, surrounded by grass stains and sunscreen and too-tight hugs, and thought: This feels like home.[38]

Kids peeled off one by one until the field emptied, the heat still rising from the grass like the day didn’t want to let go. Rick was the last to leave, keys jangling at his side as he jerked his chin toward his truck.

“C’mon, Hayes. I’ll run you back.”

I climbed in, the seat belt sticking against my damp shirt, and leaned my head against the window. Gomillion blurred past — familiar storefronts, kids licking snow cones on the curb, the wide arms of oaks throwing shade across cracked sidewalks. My chest ached, heavier with every mile.

I tried to picture LA. The apartment I’d already given up, walls blank and impersonal, the echo of a fridge door in a kitchen that never smelled like anything I wanted to come home to. The endless grind of chasing something that never felt like mine.

And then I thought of the inn — Emmett’s laugh down the hall, his shirts hanging beside mine, the way his hand had anchored on my hip like he knew where I belonged.

By the time Rick pulled up to the gravel drive and clapped me on the shoulder with .

“See you around, Coach,”

the decision had already taken root. I was done running. Done pretending LA held anything for me.

I wanted this. Him. If he’d have me.

Inside, I sank onto the edge of the bed I wasn’t sure I could still call mine, pulled out my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen too long before I typed:

We need to talk tonight.

I stared at the blinking cursor, fingers itching to add more. Love you. The words burned on the tip of my tongue, but I erased them before they made it to the screen.

Not like this. Not in a text.

I hit send. The message whooshed away, leaving my chest tight — part nerves, part thrill.[39]

The official goodbyes bled into a picnic under the oaks, parents unpacking coolers, kids trading phone numbers they’d probably never use. Rick handed me a paper plate piled with fried chicken and potato salad, nodding like I belonged there. The high school volunteers hovered near me too, their chatter a mix of relief and sadness, like they didn’t quite want to admit the summer was over.

I laughed when one of the little ones barreled into my side, sticky-fingered and fearless, demanding a piggyback. I gave in, lifting him high until his squeals rang across the grass. It should’ve been exhausting after weeks of this, but my chest only swelled fuller, pride anchoring me in a way no stadium crowd ever had.

By the time the last cooler was dragged back to a truck and the sun sagged toward the trees, Rick clapped me on the back again.

“Door’s always open, Hayes. Summer gig, or more if you want it.”

The words stuck with me all the way back in his truck, the windows down, cicadas buzzing. More if you want it.

When we pulled into the inn’s gravel lot, twilight already pressed against the porch lights. My phone buzzed once in my pocket — Emmett’s reply to my message. Okay. Simple, steady, like him.

I stepped out of the truck, waved my thanks, and watched the taillights disappear down the road. My pulse kicked harder as I turned toward the front door, heart hammering with everything I hadn’t said yet.[40]

The porch light cast a warm glow over the front steps as I pushed open the door. The familiar chime of the bell above rang out, and with it, the smell of lemon polish and whatever dessert Emmett had baked earlier still lingering in the air.

He was behind the desk, bent over the ledger, pen tapping absently against the margin. Mrs. Peterson leaned against the counter, chatting away about peach preserves from the market, her husband already carrying a jar like treasure. Across the lobby, the honeymooners slipped by hand in hand, flushed and smiling like the world was brand-new.

And then Emmett looked up.

His eyes found mine, and the rest of the room went soft around the edges. Just a second — no more — but it felt like he knew why I was there, why my throat was tight, why my pulse hadn’t steadied since I’d typed those three words: We need to talk.

“Evening,”

he said, polite for the guests, but the flicker under it was just for me.

I managed a nod, but I stayed by the door, waiting, letting him finish. Mrs. Peterson carried on, oblivious, until finally she snapped her purse shut and offered me a cheery wave on her way out.

When the door closed behind her, the quiet in the lobby stretched. Emmett slid the pen into its holder, closed the ledger, and straightened like he was putting himself together. Then his gaze came back to me, steady and unguarded.

“Upstairs?”

he asked, low enough that only I could hear.

My mouth was dry, but I nodded. “Yeah.”

The weight of it followed us as we climbed, the creak of the stairs and the soft click of his door closing behind us louder than any crowd I’d ever faced.[41]

The room was dim, the lamp on the nightstand throwing a soft glow. Summer air drifted in through the cracked window, carrying the steady drone of cicadas. Emmett leaned against the dresser, arms folded, eyes fixed on me like he knew something was coming.

“How was it?”

he asked. His voice was low, steady.

“Last day.”

I set my bag down, rubbed the back of my neck.

“Harder than I thought it’d be. Kids clung to me like they didn’t want to let go. Parents shook my hand like I’d given their kids more than drills and pep talks. Rick even said I’d be welcome back next summer.”

Emmett’s mouth twitched, his eyes softer than the smile he gave me.

“That’s because you mattered. To them.”

I crossed the room, my pulse hammering. His body was right there, solid and warm and mine if I asked. My throat tightened, but the words clawed out anyway.

“I love you, Emmy. I’ve always loved you.”

He froze, breath hitching. For one awful second, silence pressed in so thick I thought I’d gone too far. Then his arms unfolded, his face cracked open, and his voice rasped out rough and true.

“Kelly… I’ve loved you for so damn long. Thought I’d lost the right to ever say it again.”

Relief and need crashed through me at once. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into me, mouths colliding. The kiss started slow but spun fast into something hotter, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. His hand fisted in my hair, mine slid under his shirt, dragging over bare skin that burned under my palm.

We stumbled back onto the bed, tangled in each other. He rolled us until we were side by side, fingers linked tight, our bodies pressed close, hard against each other. I broke the kiss long enough to whisper against his jaw.

“God, I want everything with you.”

His answering groan shook through me. He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was tasting every vow we hadn’t spoken yet. When we finally pulled apart, our breaths ragged, he murmured.

“You ever picture kids running these halls? Turning this place into chaos?”

I laughed softly, chest still heaving.

“Never let myself picture kids. But the thought doesn’t scare me. Not if it’s with you.”

His thumb stroked over my knuckles, anchoring me.

“Whatever you want, we’ll figure it out. Coaching, teaching—whatever roots you need. We’ll make it work.”

My heart clenched, not from fear, but from the sheer force of wanting him, of wanting this. I pressed my forehead to his, breath hot between us.

“There’s one thing, Emmy. I need to go back to LA first. Tie up loose ends. But when I do… I want to come back here. To you.”

He tensed, then pulled me tighter, his voice raw.

“Then come back. Don’t make me wait twenty years again.”

His mouth brushed mine, one last kiss, soft but searing. And inside, I vowed it as fierce as blood in my veins: I’m not leaving him behind this time. I’ll fight for this. For us.[42]

The vow still buzzed between us when Emmett’s grin turned wicked, boyish, like we were back on the bleachers daring each other to take one more risk. His hand slid down, cupping me through my jeans, and I jolted, breath catching.

“Emmy—”

“Shh,”

he murmured, kissing me hard, nipping at my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.

“We’ve wasted twenty years. I’m not wasting this night.”

I laughed against his mouth, a shaky, hungry sound, and pushed him onto his back. His eyes went wide, then dark with heat as I straddled him, fumbling at buttons and zippers. Clothes went fast, tossed careless to the floor.

The bed creaked as we rolled, bodies sliding hot and urgent. My mouth found his chest, licking the salt of sweat, nipping at his nipple until he gasped, tugging at my hair. He shoved his thigh between mine and I ground down shamelessly, our cocks hard and slick, sliding together.

“God, Kelly—”

His voice broke on my name, raw and rough, and it sent a thrill straight through me.

“Say it again.”

I bit lightly at his jaw, desperate for every piece of him.

“Kelly.”

This time it was almost a groan, swallowed by my kiss as I drove us faster, hips rocking.

We tangled and wrestled, half-laughing, half-moan, until it tipped over—heat spiraling, the world narrowing to the drag of him against me, the sound of our voices breaking together. Release hit sharp and messy, both of us clinging like we’d drown if we let go.

After, I collapsed against his chest, breathless and laughing, his arms locking tight around me. He kissed my temple, murmuring.

“Guess that’s one way to seal a vow.”

I grinned into his skin, still trembling.

“Best damn way.”[43]

The laughter faded slowly, leaving only the thrum of our heartbeats and the weight of him under me. I rolled to the side, pulling Emmett with me so we were tangled still, sticky and warm, the sheets kicked halfway down the bed. His breath brushed my collarbone, steadying now, and for a moment I thought I could just stay like this forever—wrapped up in him, the world shut out.

But forever wasn’t guaranteed. Not yet.

“Emmy…”

My voice came quieter than I meant, stripped bare. His head lifted, green eyes catching mine in the dim light.

“I need to go back to LA first. Tie up loose ends. But when I do…”

My throat tightened, but I pushed through.

“I want to come back here. To you.”

The silence between us stretched, and I felt him tense, just for a second. Old ghosts, old doubts. Then his hand cupped my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek like he was memorizing the shape of me.

“Then come back,”

he said, voice rough but certain.

“Don’t make me wait twenty years again.”

Something in my chest cracked open, wide and certain. I leaned into his touch, breathing him in—soap and sweat and something that felt like home.

I closed my eyes, vow burning hot and sure in my bones. I’m not leaving him behind this time. I’ll fight for this. For him.

Daily To-Do

Order more peaches from farmer’s market

Replace bulb in Room Two’s lamp

Call linen service about late delivery

Restock coffee beans

Wait for Kelly