Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Brynn
The bleachers are colder than I expected.
Even with a stadium blanket under me and a knit scarf wrapped twice around my neck, there’s a bite to the air that sneaks through the layers. Cedar Falls fall evenings are nothing if not committed to the bit. Windy, crisp, and so full of hometown energy it practically vibrates under your skin.
The playoff banner flaps behind us, gold letters catching the light. The field is glowing under the stadium lights, sharp and vivid. It's district championship night. And I’m sitting in the exact row I’ve watched from a hundred times before—but everything feels different now.
Because this time, I’m not just here for football.
I’m here for him.
“Do we think that’s a good omen or a disaster?” Kinsey asks, pointing her hot chocolate at the field, where a giant inflatable wildcat is currently struggling to stay upright.
Kate snorts beside her. “If it deflates before kickoff, it can’t be a good sign.”
Mrs. Dalton, sitting on the other side of me with a thermos of cider and a smile that somehow manages to be both sweet and all-knowing, leans over. “Oh, that poor mascot. They’re never quite right after homecoming.”
“Neither was I,” Kinsey mutters dramatically. “I remember losing an earring and my dignity on that dance floor.”
My mom giggles, snuggled into her puffer coat and holding a bag of kettle corn like it’s precious cargo.
My dad’s at the end of the row, talking shop with Mr. Dalton—both of them bundled up in team jackets like proud dads who have definitely watched enough football to coach if given half the chance.
Evie is wedged between Kate and me, wearing tiny earmuffs and a team hoodie two sizes too big. She’s coloring on the back of a program with a purple marker and occasionally shouting “Go Wildcats!” without looking up.
“Tell me again why I’m nervous and I’m not even the one coaching?” I ask, half-laughing, half-sick to my stomach with secondhand anxiety.
Kate reaches for a popcorn kernel from my mom’s stash. “Because you're emotionally invested in the six-foot-two man storming the sideline like it owes him money.”
I glance toward the field.
Knox is pacing in front of the bench, headset on, jaw tight, clipboard in hand. His ball cap is low, eyes narrowed. He looks intense, focused, and unfairly attractive in that black team pullover that hugs his arms a little too well.
He looks like himself.
My heart pulls in my chest because I know exactly how much he’s poured into this team. Every late night. Every film breakdown. Every quiet moment where he doubted if he was good enough to lead these boys and every louder one where he showed them he was.
“He’s going to be great,” Mrs. Dalton says, catching the look on my face. She pats my knee with a kind of motherly confidence that feels like a hug.
“I know,” I say. But that doesn’t mean I’m not currently vibrating with nerves like I’m about to be called into the game myself.
Just then, a voice rings out behind us.
“Well, if this isn’t the prettiest little cheering section I’ve ever seen!”
Haddie Carmichael appears in her signature emerald green coat, tablet in hand and camera strap around her neck like she’s the press at the Super Bowl.
“Do you mind if I get a photo?” she beams. “This is the row of power, right here. Generations of Cedar Falls pride.”
“Oh Lord,” Kinsey groans. “Don’t let her tag me. Last time she did, my ex texted within the hour.”
Haddie waves her off. “You looked hot, honey, that’s on him. Now smile big!”
We all scoot together, shoulder to shoulder. Evie climbs up into my lap at the last second, holding her coloring sheet proudly like it’s a sign. Kate fluffs her hair. My mom grabs my hand. Mrs. Dalton’s arm comes around my back.
Haddie snaps three in rapid succession and then lowers her camera, grinning. “Beautiful. I’ll post it with something tasteful. Maybe, ‘The Real MVPs.’”
Mr. Dalton chuckles. “Add ‘Freezing Our Butts Off in the Name of Glory.’”
My dad chimes in, “’Bleeding Blue Since ’82.’”
Haddie winks. “I love it. I’ll tag you all.”
“Uh—I don’t need to be tagged.” I blink. But I think better of it. “You know what, who cares?”
Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension in my chest loosens a little. Because this is home. Not just the field or the bleachers or the game—but this row. These people. The teasing. The community. The love.
And somewhere down there on that field is the man I love, trying to lead a group of boys into something they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.
I settle back into my seat as the team runs onto the field, the cheer squad lifting their signs, the crowd roaring like it might just shake the bleachers. My pulse jumps.
Evie cups her hands around her mouth. “GO WILDCATS! GO COACH KNOX!”
I smile and whisper to her, “That’s my guy.”
She nods sagely. “He’s really big.”
“Yep. But soft, too. Like a marshmallow.”
Evie gasps. “No way. He looks like a dragon.”
“Well,” I say, pressing a kiss to her hair, “he’s my dragon.”