Page 70 of Hometown Halftime

I let out a long breath. “Okay.”

Chapter thirty

Riley

I wait until Kinsey pulls her Jeep into the driveway beside my truck before I climb out.

The porch light from the duplex throws a warm glow across the driveway while her headlights cut through the dark beside me. After she turns the car off, she just sits there with both hands wrapped around the steering wheel, staring ahead through the windshield.

The reality of what happened tonight is probably finally catching up to her. One minute she was getting ready for dinner, and the next her ceiling collapsed and half her apartment flooded. Now she has only a few of her belongings in the back of my truck, which has to be stressful.

My chest tightens as I watch her take a slow breath before finally opening the door.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks the second she steps out.

“Yes.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You answered that suspiciously fast.”

“Because I’m suspiciously sure,” I say with a grin.

That earns me a small smile, but it fades quickly. She looks exhausted now that the panic has settled. Her shoulders seem heavier, movements slower.

I grab her suitcase from the back of my truck while she reaches for her duffel bag.

“Leave it,” I tell her.

“Riley, I can carry my own stuff.”

“I know.” I focus on her. “You’ve made it very clear that you are a fully capable woman approximately nine hundred times since I met you.”

Her lips twitch.

“But tonight sucked,” I continue. “So, let me help.”

Her brow pinches before finally surrendering the duffel with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But only because I’m emotionally fragile.”

I grin as we head toward the porch. I unlock the front door and step aside so she can walk in first.

Kinsey pauses just inside the entryway, taking everything in while I carry her bags farther into the living room. The duplex isn’t huge, but it’s comfortable. Open kitchen and living room, a narrow hallway leading toward a half bath with the bedrooms upstairs.

“It’s cute,” she says quietly behind me.

I turn toward her, setting the suitcase near the couch. “That’s the first time anyone’s called my place cute.”

“You have curtains,” she points out as she slips off her sneakers by the door. “That automatically makes it cute.”

“Brynn put those up before I moved in.”

She wanders farther inside while I flick on a lamp near the couch. Even after everything that happened in the last hour, she still wanders around to notice details. She stops to look at the framed football photo on the built-in bookshelf, a rugby playbook sitting open on the coffee table.

There’s something strangely unnerving about watching someone take in the temporary home you’ve put together when you thought no one else would really see it.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I would’ve cleaned up more if I had known you were going to unexpectedly move in tonight.”

She snorts, setting her clutch on the kitchen counter. “Trust me, this is still significantly better than most men’s homes I’ve seen in my lifetime.”

I glance up the stairs toward the spare room and clear my throat. “Okay, so…there’s a slight issue.”