Page 24 of Hometown Halftime

He throws the flattened box onto the pile next to us. My cheeks heat because for a second I feel like I’ve said too much.

“Then you’re right not to,” he says.

I frown. “Not to what?”

“Compromise,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Not on something that big. Children change your life in every way. You should be able to stand by your wants.”

I hold his gaze, and my heart thumps in my chest.

“And if that leaves you with…not a lot of options?”

His eyes don’t waver from mine. “Then you wait for the right one.” There’s a pause before he adds, “The one who already wants what you want.”

Riley’s gaze lingers on mine for a second longer than it should, like he’s not in a rush to move past what he just said. And I don’t think I am either.

“Coach?”

The voice cuts through the moment, and I startle. These girls are like ninjas.

I blink and turn to see Tara standing a few feet away, a clipboard hugged to her chest and a smudge of dust across her cheek.

“We finished sorting the canned stuff,” she says. “Like…all of it. And we lined them up with labels out like you said.”

I glance past her to the long folding tables, where neat rows of soup cans and boxed pasta stretch across the surface, ready for the people that will file through a couple of hours from now. Two girls are still straightening them, stepping back to admire their work.

“Good work,” I say, shifting back into coach mode so I don’t need to linger in the conversation Riley and I just had.

“Alright, grab a partner. We’ll move you over to dairy items. Check expiration dates and put the new stuff in the back of the rows.”

Tara nods quickly. “Got it.” Then she turns, already calling for the others.

"I'm going to get them set up," I tell Riley.

"Go for it, there's only a couple of boxes left here."

I'm about to walk away but then turn back. Riley's gaze meets mine, and he pauses, his brow rising.

“Good talk, Weston.”

The smile that spreads on his lips is devastating. His eyes are warm, and I can’t deny that I feel the electricity in the space between us.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “good talk.”

Chapter eleven

Kinsey

Sometimes I’m thankful to live in a town where everything shuts down by nine o’clock on a weeknight. Because right now, as my Tuesday evening shift winds down, I’m ready to escape bar tabs and rounds of washing glassware.

So, when Brynn texts to head over to her and Knox’s after I’m done, followed by four star-eyed emojis, I hand in my drawer, grab my jacket and drive to their place.

Knox and Brynn’s two-story home is on the edge of town near the old Magnolia Hotel. Knox had the house designed and built with Brynn’s every dream in mind. The living room is cozy and welcoming. When I walk into the room, there’s blankets on the couch, a half-demolished loaf of pumpkin bread on the coffee table, and their golden retriever, Priscilla, is snoring on her dog bed in the corner.

Kate and Cam are curled together on the loveseat, her legs draped over his lap, his hand absently rubbing circles on her ankle. Kate is pregnant with their third child. I swear Cam would do anything and everything in his power to spoil that woman and she deserves every second of it.

Brynn spots me first. “Kinsey!” she sings, popping up to hug me. “We were just talking about you.”

“Fantastic,” I say, kicking off my boots. “Nothing ominous ever follows that sentence.”