Chapter 51
Chapter fifty-one
Brynn
The whole town must’ve decided to show up tonight.
Gordy’s is packed, more than usual. Tables are crammed shoulder to shoulder, the bar is three deep, and the string lights overhead cast a warm glow that makes even the neon beer signs feel charming.
It’s loud, it’s buzzing, and for the first time, there’s a guy with a guitar on a small platform near the back, crooning into a mic like he’s auditioning for The Voice: Small Town Dive Bar Edition.
But somehow, despite the chaos, I feel grounded.
I’m tucked into a corner booth with Knox across from me, Cam and Kate beside us. Kinsey’s behind the bar slinging cocktails like she’s in a speed round on a game show. Ty’s perched on a stool nearby, tossing peanut shells into Levi’s drink just to mess with him.
It’s warm. Easy. The kind of night that sneaks up on you and plants itself in your memory, a little Polaroid of everything feeling just right.
Except for the fact that Knox’s knee keeps slipping between mine and I’m trying very hard not to let my brain short-circuit.
He’s playing it cool. We both are. Sort of.
Which, frankly, is impressive considering the way his hand brushed against the small of my back when we walked in.
Or the way he just leaned over to steal a sip of my drink, and I nearly blacked out from the proximity of his mouth to my straw.
Or the text message he sent me, sitting right across the table, telling me all the filthy things he wants to do to me when we get home.
In short, this has been a tortured-filled evening.
Cam’s telling a story about a kid on his baseball team who hit a walk-off and forgot to run the bases, and we’re all cracking up when I catch Knox looking at me.
That look.
The one where his eyes soften, just barely, and one side of his mouth tilts like he’s thinking about a hundred things he can’t say in front of everyone. I look down, smiling into my drink like a total cliché. But I don’t care. I’m happy.
And then the music shifts. A slow song. Warm and twangy, with just enough ache in the vocals to make the whole place go a little still.
A few couples sway near the makeshift stage.
Someone turns the lights down. I glance toward the bar and see Kinsey give me a subtle thumbs-up. The crowd’s eating it up.
It’s about as romantic as Cedar Falls can get.
Which is exactly when Debbie Carmichael decides to strike.
She slinks over in her red boots and leopard-print mini dress like a honey trap in a Hallmark movie gone wrong. Her hair is curled within an inch of its life, and she’s wearing enough glitter to blind a person.
“Oh, Knox,” she sings, brushing her fingers over his shoulder like they’re old flames and not, in fact, complete strangers. “Dance with me?”
He blinks, caught off guard. “Uh…no thanks.”
She laughs like he just made a joke. “Oh, come on. Just one dance. What’s the harm?”
He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “Not really my thing.”
But Debbie—bless her relentless heart—leans in further, cleavage at eye level and desperation practically wafting off her. “You’re the coach. You’re strong. Athletic. Bet you’re a good dancer too.”
I stop breathing.
My hands go still around my glass. My jaw might actually crack from how tightly I’m clenching it.
Because Debbie is throwing herself at my man in front of the entire bar. And while he’s clearly not having it, she’s not taking the damn hint.
My eye twitches.
Kate glances at me with a slow, knowing smile. Cam starts to say something, but I’m already standing.
I don’t even remember making the decision. One second, I’m trying to be chill. The next, I’m storming around the table with all the poise of a woman about to throw down.
“Listen, Debbie. Deborah, I’m going to need you to leave Knox alone,” I snap, and her head swivels toward me, mouth half open.
She blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I don’t know what fantasy you’ve built in your head, but this?” I gesture between her and Knox. “Isn’t happening.”
Debbie scoffs. “We’re just talking.”
“No, you’re talking. He’s trying to escape with his dignity.”
Knox stands now, reaching like he might try to de-escalate, but it’s too late.
“Knox is mine,” I say, loud and clear. “He’s not available. Not for dancing, not for flirting, not for whatever weird cowboy-themed seduction you’ve got going on. He’s taken. As in, not on the market. As in, get your hands off my man. As in, go away now.”
The bar falls silent.
Debbie stares at me like I’ve grown horns.
But I don’t care.
Because right now, the only thing I can think about is how badly I want this town to know what we are. What he means to me. That I love him, damn it. That I’ve always loved him.
So I reach for him.
“C’mere, Coach,” I mutter.
I grab his shirt, pull him to me and I kiss him. Hard.
It’s a movie kiss. A heart-thudding, hair-grabbing, time-stopping kiss. His arms wrap around me and he surrenders to it. I pour every inch of feeling into it—every buried ache, every second chance, every bit of love I’ve been keeping just under the surface.
And the bar? It loses its mind.
Cheers erupt. Someone whoops. Ty yells something about finally, and Kinsey slams a bar spoon against the counter like a victory bell.
Knox’s hands are on my waist, his mouth smiling against mine, and when we finally break apart, breathless and grinning, he just looks at me like I hung the damn moon.
“Well,” he says, voice low and rough with affection, “that was new.”
I shrug. “She touched your shoulder. I blacked out.”
He laughs, tilting his head, brushing a knuckle over my cheek. “So, you’re possessive now?”
I arch a brow. “That surprises you?”
“Nope. Just turns me on.”
I smack his chest. “You’re impossible.”
He leans in. “You love me anyway.”
“You’re right, I do.”
His eyes soften. “I love you too, Brynn.”
And right there in the middle of Gordy’s, with the whole town watching and music playing and Debbie slinking off in defeat, I know—This? Us? It’s exactly where I’m meant to be and I don’t care who knows.