Chapter 34 - Brynn
Chapter thirty-four
Brynn
Ihaven’t stopped smiling since I left Knox’s.
I mean, I’m trying to. I’m aware of how ridiculous I must look, walking down Main Street like I’m starring in a toothpaste commercial.
But there’s this lightness in my chest, a hum just under my skin.
My brain keeps replaying every second of last night like it’s my new favorite movie—his quiet voice in the dark, the way he held me like he didn’t want to let go, the way it felt so easy being next to him again.
And the best part? We didn’t even have sex.
It was just talking. Touching. Breathing the same air like we used to, but with more patience and less urgency. It felt like the kind of night you hold onto when everything else is chaos. Like the beginning of something that actually has a chance this time.
I tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over my hands as I walk, breathing in the faint scent that still lingers—something warm and clean and a little woodsy.
Him. I hadn’t meant to keep it. It wasn’t planned.
But when I was getting dressed this morning and saw it slung over the back of the couch, something in me wanted to hold onto it.
Like wearing it made the whole night feel more real. More mine.
By the time I push through the door of Penny’s Café, I’m practically vibrating with the need to talk about it.
I need to get it out of my system before I explode—because there’s only so much grinning-like-an-idiot one woman can do in public before someone starts asking if she’s having a mental break.
Kate and Kinsey are already at our usual table, tucked into the corner by the window. They’re mid-conversation, but both look up when they see me.
And then they look at the hoodie.
And then they look at me.
Kinsey arches a brow. Kate smirks.
I slide into the booth, cheeks warm, and say the only thing that feels true right now.
“Okay. I need to talk about last night.”
Kate leans across the table like she’s about to interrogate me, but kindly says, “So…what happened?”
I wrap my hands around the coffee mug in front of me, trying to decide how to explain it without sounding like a teenager on a rom-com high. “We talked. A lot. We just…connected. Like no time had passed, but also like we’re different people now in the best ways.”
“No sex?” Kinsey asks, clearly shocked. “You’re wearing his hoodie and you look like you’ve been loved on. You’re telling me there was no mattress dancing?”
I laugh. “No sex. He said he wants to wait. It was better than any night I’ve had in…a long time.”
Kinsey tilts her head. “So you’re emotionally wrecked, huh? Like in a good, soft-core way?”
“Very soft-core,” I say. “And wrecked is…probably accurate.”
Kate smiles, it’s the kind of smile that says she knows exactly what I mean, like she’s remembering the first time someone looked at her like she was a future instead of a phase. “And how do you feel this morning? Besides floaty and wearing a man’s hoodie like a badge of honor.”
I shrug, trying not to grin too hard. “Good. Nervous. Like I’m standing at the edge of something and I haven’t decided if I’m going to jump or just sit down and admire the view.”
Kinsey narrows her eyes. “And he knows this isn’t just nostalgia?”
“He knows,” I say softly. “He said he wants to see where this can go. And I do, too. But…”
“But,” Kate echoes gently.
“I asked him to keep it between us. For now.”
They both go still.
“I know how this town works,” I say quickly. “I just want some time for us to figure things out.”
Kate nods slowly. “That’s fair.”
Kinsey stirs her iced tea with a straw, watching me. “Okay, but playing devil’s advocate here—how long do you think a man like Knox is gonna be cool with that? Men like to claim things when they care. You think he wants to sit on the bench while everyone in town thinks you’re still single?”
That hits a little harder than I expect.
“I don’t want him to feel hidden,” I say. “But I also can’t go back to being watched all the time. Especially when I haven’t even figured out what I’m doing.”
“You think he’ll wait?” Kate asks.
I nod, but it’s slow. “He said he would.”
Kinsey leans back, gaze softer now. “Then he probably will. But girl, don’t let your fear write the rules. There’s a difference between protecting something and hiding it.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Because she’s not wrong. And that’s exactly what I’ve been wrestling with—how much of this silence is self-preservation, and how much is avoidance.
The weight of that truth sits in my chest for a second before I draw in a breath. “There’s something else,” I say, my voice quieter now. “Something I haven’t told many people.”
Kate straightens. Kinsey sits up.
I run my finger along the rim of my mug. “Before the wedding. Months before, actually. I got a diagnosis. Premature ovarian insufficiency.”
Silence. Total, respectful, grounding silence.
I swallow hard. “It means I have little to no chance of having biological children. Henry didn’t handle it well. Said things that still stick in my mind, even now. That he wanted a woman who could give him a family. That I wasn’t what he signed up for.”
“Oh, Brynn,” Kate whispers, reaching for my hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry you went through that alone. But you’re not alone now. And you never were.”
“I was afraid to tell Knox,” I admit. “Terrified, actually. But I did. And is was like it didn’t even phase him. He said it didn’t change how he felt. Like it was nothing.”
“Because to the right person,” Kate says softly, “it is nothing. Or at least, not the thing that defines you.”
Kinsey nods. “To the right person, it’s part of the story—not the ending.”
I let their words settle around me. Warmth to wounds I hadn’t even realized were still open.
Maybe this is what healing looks like. Not grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but two women sitting across from you, reminding you that you’re whole even when you don’t feel like it.
Evie tugs on Kate’s sleeve just then, eyes wide and ponytail half-undone. “Mommy, my hair’s falling out.”
Kate smiles and turns to her bag. “Let me find your brush, honey.”
She rustles through the pockets for a moment, frowning. “That’s strange. I always keep it right here.”
She checks again, then shrugs. “Oh well. We’ll just finger-comb it and call it a messy princess bun.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but there’s a slight crease between her brows like she’s already mentally retracing her steps.
I glance out the window as the three of them fall into their usual rhythm. Kate brushes Evie’s hair with gentle hands, Kinsey digs into her fries.
And me? I lean back in the booth, hoodie sleeves pulled over my hands, heart a little lighter than it was when I walked in.