Page 33 of Kellan & Emmett (Gomillion High Reunion #1)

Kellan

The rental crunched over the gravel drive, and my chest tightened the second the inn came into view. Same porch railings, same swing creaking gently in the breeze, but it felt different now. Not just a place I’d run to for the summer—this time, it was supposed to be home. My real shot at it. At him.

My suitcases sat in the trunk, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. They could wait. Emmett couldn’t. I shoved the car door closed, heart thudding faster than it had on any field I’d ever played.

Inside, the familiar smell of coffee and lemon polish hit me like a welcome I’d been aching for. The author sat in his usual corner, glasses sliding down his nose, laptop balanced on a stack of notes. He glanced up, surprise flashing before settling into a smile.

“Kellan. You’re back.”

He pushed his glasses higher.

“Emmett just stepped out. Looked a little upset, but said it wasn’t serious.”

The words were casual, sincere. But my stomach went tight. Upset. Emmett didn’t show that side to guests. Not unless something had knocked him sideways.

“Thanks,”

I managed, though my voice came out rougher than I meant.

By the time I reached the porch again, my phone was already in my hand. I called. Straight to voicemail. Texted. No reply.

Pacing the boards, I muttered under my breath.

“Think, think, think.”

Where would he go?

I thumbed Paige’s number. She answered on the second ring, bright as ever.

“Well, if it isn’t Coach Hayes. How’s LA treating you?”

“I’m not in LA,”

I said quickly.

“I’m back in town. Have you seen Emmett?”

A beat of silence.

“Not today. Why? What’s wrong?”

“He stepped out, looked upset. He’s not answering his phone.”

Her voice softened.

“I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s spotted him.”

“Thanks, Paige.”

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, but it didn’t ease the knot in my chest.

I dropped into the driver’s seat of the rental, fingers tight around the wheel. The hardware store? No. He wouldn’t go there. Paige’s? No. Not if he wanted to be alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Think.

And then it hit me. Of course. A place older than both our scars. A place I should’ve thought of first.

I turned the key, the engine humming to life.[47]

Gravel spat from the tires as I pulled out, jaw tight, pulse louder than the engine.

The road blurred by in familiar turns and dips, every mile pressing harder against my ribs.

My hands gripped the wheel so tight they ached, but I couldn’t ease up. Not until I saw him.

When the bend opened, the sight slammed into me—his truck, parked crooked off the shoulder like he’d barely cared where it landed.

My chest clenched.

I killed the engine and shoved the door open, gravel crunching under my boots.

Across the grass, there he was—slumped at the water’s edge, shoulders bowed like the weight of the whole damn world was stacked on them.

My throat closed. Emmett, always so steady, looked wrecked.

I was moving before I realized it, strides breaking into something close to a jog.

The ground was uneven, tugging at my balance, but I didn’t slow.

Couldn’t. Not when the man I loved sat there looking like he’d broken in half.

He turned at the sound of my steps, startled. His eyes were wet, lashes clumped, his face raw in a way that tore straight through me.

“You came back,”

he rasped, voice fraying.

“Of course I did.”

I dropped to him, grabbed his hands, hauled him up and into me.

The crash of us together was desperate, a collision of arms and mouths and need. He clutched at me like I might vanish, and I kissed him like proof that I never would.

“I love you,”

I muttered against his mouth.

“I love you,”

he breathed back, voice breaking into the words like they’d been waiting years to be said.

Our mouths kept finding each other, again and again, the words tangled in every kiss until there was no telling where love ended and breath began.[48]

His breath hitched against my neck, a broken sound that made me pull back just enough to see him. His face was streaked, eyes shining wet, mouth trembling like the words cut him even as he forced them out.

“I thought…”

His throat worked, voice jagged.

“I thought you’d taken the job offer. That you weren’t coming back.”

For a heartbeat I just blinked at him, chest tight with disbelief. Then it clicked, sharp and awful.

“Wait. Did you… did you read the whole message?”

He froze. His hand went to his pocket, fumbling, patting like maybe the phone would be there if he wanted it badly enough. A curse slipped out, hoarse.

“Left it in the truck.”

“Jesus, Em.”

My laugh cracked on the edge of it, half relief, half ache. I dug into my jeans for my own phone, thumb swiping quick to our thread. The words glowed on the screen, the ones I’d typed the second my plane hit the tarmac:

Got a job offer to coach at Westfield. Turned it down. Would’ve turned it down if they offered me the world. Because I already know where I belong. With you. I’m coming home, Emmy.

I held the phone out, hand steady only because it had to be.

He read, eyes scanning once, then again, like he couldn’t trust the letters not to vanish. His face crumpled, a sound ripping out of him—relief, wrecked and sharp enough to cut.

“I sent that when I landed,”

I said quietly, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“I was already here.”

For a long second, he didn’t move, just stared at me like he was trying to stitch himself back together from the inside out. Then he dragged me in, mouth pressing to mine, slower this time. Salt from his tears, sweetness from his breath, both sealing over the fracture that had nearly split us.

I kissed him deeper, steady, until the only thing left between us was the surety that neither of us was running anymore.[49]

We stayed like that, mouths barely moving, foreheads pressed together, until the rush of panic ebbed into something softer. His breath ghosted across my lips, warm and uneven, and I realized I didn’t need fireworks or fanfare to know we were whole again. Just this. Just him.[50]

Beat 6 – The Tree

Kellan’s thumb swept across my cheek, brushing away the last of the tears. His smile was soft, sure.

“Come on. There’s something we need to do.”

He tugged at my hand, and I followed, the path familiar, cicadas humming above us. My chest loosened with each step, the weight of the last hour giving way to something lighter.

The oak appeared through the trees, tall and weathered, roots dug deep. And there it was — our carving, faded but legible: Emmy + Kelly friends 4ever.

We both reached out, fingertips grazing the grooves. My throat tightened.

“God, we were just kids.”

Kellan let out a low laugh, sheepish.

“Back then, I wanted to carve a heart. But I was too scared.”[51]

I fished my pocketknife from my jeans, flipping it open.

“Not anymore.”

We pressed in close, my hand guiding his as the blade bit into bark. Fresh lines scratched over old, the shape of a heart slowly emerging. The cut wobbled once, and Kellan chuckled.

“Your line’s crooked,”

he teased.

I snorted, nudging his shoulder.

“That’s your side. Don’t blame me if it looks drunk.”

“Uh-huh,”

he said, grinning.

“Pretty sure you’re the one steering.”

We kept at it, laughing softly through the uneven edges until the shape closed, rough but whole. A heart carved around our old promise — not perfect, but ours.

Beat 7 – Closing Image

We stepped back, fingers laced, looking at what we’d made. The words were still there, but now wrapped in something stronger, something permanent.

I pressed a kiss to his temple, wood shavings still clinging to my fingers.

“Not friends forever,”

he murmured, his voice steady, sure. He squeezed my hand, eyes shining as he added.

“More than that. Always.”

The ache inside me eased, replaced by something fierce and certain.

With our fingers twined, we turned toward the fading light, cicadas buzzing, the water singing behind us.

For the first time in twenty years, forever didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like us — crooked lines and all.