Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

London, Two Months Ago

If heartbreak had a sound, Taylor was pretty sure it would be the echo of her own suitcase wheels across the hallway floor.

Not the dramatic crash of shattering glass or the sobbing violins of a bad romance movie. No — heartbreak was quieter. It was the soft roll of luggage over hardwood, the creak of a door you’d walked through a thousand times, and the sound of your ex-boyfriend of six years saying, “I just think we’ve grown apart.”

Grown apart.

Taylor almost laughed when he said it. Mostly because if she didn’t, she was going to throw the nearest decorative vase at his perfectly symmetrical face.

“I see,” she’d said, in that unnervingly calm tone she’d been perfecting since university. “You’ve suddenly realized we’re too different after six years, a flat, a cat, and one very joint mortgage?”

Joe had the decency to look uncomfortable for a full five seconds before muttering something about timing and wanting different things. He was wearing that pretentious scarf she always hated — the one that made him look like he’d stepped out of a moody French film.

In hindsight, the scarf should’ve been the first red flag.

Now, two hours later, Taylor was dragging the sum of her post-breakup dignity — and three overpacked suitcases — down the stairs of the tiny London flat they’d once called theirs. She paused at the door, glancing back one last time.

The place looked empty already. Soulless.

Just like him.

She exhaled slowly, gripping the handle of her suitcase until her knuckles turned white. “Okay, Taylor,” she muttered to herself, “new chapter. Deep breaths. Try not to cry in front of the cab driver.”

Her reflection in the hallway mirror gave her a look that said, good luck with that.

By the time she reached the curb, her mother had already texted for the fifth time that hour.

Mom: How are you holding up, sweetheart?
Mom: You know you can always come home.
Mom: The guest room is spotless and I made muffins.

Taylor stared at the messages, blinking away the sudden sting in her eyes.

London had been the dream — the skyline, the books, the job at the tiny publishing firm that smelled like ink and ambition… and Joe. God, she’d thought Joe was the dream too.

Now she was twenty-nine, newly single, and moving back into her childhood bedroom.

The cab driver lifted her suitcase into the trunk and said, “He must’ve been an idiot, yeah?”

Taylor managed a weak smile. “The biggest.”

As the taxi pulled away, the city blurred by — red buses, glass towers, and all the promises she’d once believed in. She didn’t know what waited for her back home.

Just that it wasn’t this.

And maybe, for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Taylor hadn’t been back in Reading for five years, and somehow it still smelled exactly the same — like pine trees, rain-soaked pavement, and just a faint whisper of gossip.

Her mother, Andrea, was waiting at the airport terminal, waving enthusiastically enough for three people. Taylor spotted her before she even fully made it down the hallway leading from customs— blond hair perfectly coiffed, floral sundress that screamed I bake things for fun, and a smile so bright it could power the entire town.

“Sweetheart!” Andrea beamed, wrapping Taylor in a hug before she could even put her suitcase down. “You look wonderful! A little tired maybe, but that’s heartbreak for you. Oh, and you lost weight — don’t worry, we’ll fix that immediately. I’ve got muffins.”

Taylor buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, half laughing, half trying not to cry. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Andrea murmured, squeezing her tighter. Then, in her usual cheerful tone: “Come on. I made your favorite dinner. And I might have told a few people you were coming home.”

Taylor groaned. “How many is ‘a few’?”

“Oh, just the ladies from my book club, your Aunt May, and the cashier at the grocery store. You know, small talk.”

Right. Small-town small talk. The most powerful social network in existence.

By the time they pulled up to the Swift house, Taylor’s embarrassment had been soothed by the comforting smell of rosemary chicken and Andrea’s relentless optimism. Her childhood home was exactly as she remembered — two stories of white-painted charm, front porch swing, and flower boxes overflowing with color.

Inside, her old room looked… shockingly unchanged. Same mint-green walls, same fairy lights, same framed posters from her university days. Her teenage self would’ve been horrified.

Andrea followed her in, hands on hips. “I dusted! And I washed the bedding. And I might’ve added a few candles — you always said lavender made you feel calm.”

Taylor smiled, genuinely touched. “It’s perfect, Mom. Thank you.”

Andrea beamed. “Good. Because tomorrow’s a big day! You’re starting at the high school.”

Taylor made a face. “Let’s not call it a big day. More like… a cautious re-entry into society.”

Her mother laughed, waving her off. “You’ll be amazing. You always are. And don’t forget, Travis Kelce is doing the new HVAC system there — I ran into him last week.”

Taylor froze mid–unpacking. “Travis Kelce? As in… high school Travis Kelce?”

Andrea’s eyes sparkled with far too much mischief. “The very same. He’s been doing handyman work all over town — built that new gazebo by the park. You remember him, don’t you?”

Taylor remembered.

Tall, loud, smug, and perpetually covered in sawdust. He’d been the kind of boy who knew he was handsome and used it like a weapon.

“He was insufferable,” she muttered.

Andrea grinned. “Oh, sweetheart. You should see him now.”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Hard pass.”

But later that night, lying awake in her childhood bed, the image of Travis — older, taller, maybe still with that crooked grin — kept flickering in her mind, uniFamiliarnvited.

And when she dreamed, it wasn’t about Joe or London or all the things she’d lost.

It was about home.
And a pair of green-blue eyes she definitely didn’t want to think about

Chapter Text

Taylor had forgotten how aggressively cheerful mornings in Reading could be.

Birds chirping, sunshine pouring through lace curtains, her mother humming along to some old ‘80s song downstairs — it was all very quaint. And very loud.

By the time she poured herself a mug of coffee, Andrea had already launched into a monologue about the town’s fall festival, the school bake sale, and how “Travis Kelce offered to hang new lights in the gym, isn’t that thoughtful?”

Taylor sipped her coffee with the kind of expression that said I’m not awake enough for matchmaking. “Mom,” she said dryly, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to set me up with him.”

Andrea smiled innocently. “Set you up? Me? Never. But he does have a very steady job and great shoulders.”

Taylor groaned. “Oh my god.”

“Fine, fine,” her mom said, trying (and failing) to look contrite. “Now, go make a great impression on your first day. And smile. You’ve got the kind of face that makes people behave.”

“Untrue,” Taylor muttered, grabbing her keys.

---

The local high school hadn’t changed much since she’d been a student — same faded mascot mural in the hallway, same faint smell of floor wax and teenage drama. But stepping into the English department office, Taylor felt the weight of it all: a new start.

She smoothed her skirt, adjusted her tote bag, and plastered on her “I’m confident and competent” face.

Then she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Holy crap. Taylor Swift?”

She turned — and barely had time to brace before Abigail Anderson came hurtling toward her in a flurry of red curls and enthusiasm.

“Abby!” Taylor laughed, catching her in a hug.

“I can’t believe this! You’re back! And you’re teaching here! Oh, my god, it’s like high school all over again except now we get to yell at teenagers instead of being them!”

Taylor couldn’t stop laughing. Abigail was exactly as she remembered — vibrant, slightly chaotic, and still wearing shoes that looked like they’d been chosen on a dare.

“I heard you married that guy from the football team,” Taylor said, pulling back with a grin.

Abigail sighed dramatically. “Yes, married, two kids, one minivan, and a dog that eats socks for sport. Chaos is my brand now.”

They sat together at one of the desks, catching up between bursts of laughter and exaggerated sighs about adulthood.

“So,” Abigail said, leaning in conspiratorially, “you’ve been in town for what, twenty-four hours? Have you seen him yet?”

Taylor blinked. “Him who?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Abigail’s grin was devilish. “Travis Kelce. He’s been working around here all week. Every woman in the building suddenly has a broken cabinet they need him to fix.”

Taylor choked on her coffee. “You’re kidding.”

“Oh, I wish. He’s like… rugged now. Beard, tool belt, forearms that could do unspeakable things to a person’s self-control.”

“Abigail!” Taylor hissed, cheeks flushing.

Abigail laughed. “Relax! You used to loathe him, remember? This’ll be fun.”

Before Taylor could reply, the door to the teachers’ lounge creaked open.

And there he was.

Travis Kelce, in a dark gray T-shirt, tool belt slung low on his hips, clipboard in one hand and a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

He looked exactly like the kind of man you shouldn’t look directly at if you wanted to maintain composure. Taller than she remembered, broader too, with that same annoyingly confident posture that used to drive her insane.

“Hey, Abigail,” he said, giving her a nod before his gaze landed on Taylor. It lingered. “Taylor Swift. Wow. It’s been a while.”

Her brain, usually so reliable with words, decided to take the morning off. “Uh—yeah. It has.”

His grin widened a little, just enough to make her heart do something treacherous. “Welcome home.”

Abigail glanced between them, grinning like she’d just been handed front-row seats to a soap opera.

Taylor cleared her throat and forced a polite smile. “Thanks. I’m—uh—teaching here now.”

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around then.”

He winked. Actually winked.

And then he was gone, leaving Taylor and Abigail staring after him in silence.

After a beat, Abigail exhaled. “Okay, yeah. He got hot.”

Taylor dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, god. This town is going to eat me alive.”

Chapter Text

Taylor’s first week at Reading High went about as smoothly as a three-legged horse race.

Her freshmen were feral, her lesson plans were perpetually half-finished, and the school copier seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against her.

But the real problem?

Travis Kelce apparently lived in the building now.

Everywhere she turned, there he was — fixing a squeaky door, changing a light fixture, leaning against something in that maddeningly casual way that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

The worst part? He knew it.

“Morning, Miss Swift,” he said one day, strolling into her classroom like he owned the place. He was holding a wrench in one hand, his tool belt slung low on his hips, forearms dusted with sawdust.

Taylor didn’t even want to know why the sight made her heart stutter. “Morning, Mr. Kelce. What are you breaking today?”

He grinned, all slow confidence. “Just here to fix the thermostat. Heard someone complained it was getting too hot in here.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. “Did you just—did you seriously make a temperature pun?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Guess I did.”

Abigail, passing by the door with a stack of papers, snorted so loudly she nearly dropped them. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Taylor shot her a glare. “You have meetings, don’t you?”

“Not anymore,” Abigail said cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe like she was watching her favorite show. “Carry on.”

Travis chuckled as he crouched to open the thermostat panel, the motion pulling his shirt taut across his shoulders. “Still bossy, huh?”

Taylor folded her arms. “Still infuriating, huh?”

He glanced up at her, eyes glinting with amusement. “You remember me that well?”

She opened her mouth, then promptly forgot how sentences worked.

By the time he finished tinkering, she was doing her best to pretend she hadn’t been staring. “So, is it fixed?”

“Guess we’ll see.” He stepped closer, that easy smile softening into something gentler. “You know, you used to roll your eyes at me in class every time I made a joke.”

“Some things never change,” she said, though her voice came out a little breathless.

He leaned just a fraction closer. “Maybe some things do.”

The air between them tightened — charged, unspoken. For a split second, Taylor wondered what it would feel like if he did close that gap.

Then Abigail dropped her coffee mug outside the door, and the spell broke.

Taylor jumped; Travis just laughed under his breath, stepping back. “Guess I’ll let you get back to teaching, Miss Swift.”

“Probably a good idea,” she said, fighting a smile.

As he walked out, she caught the faintest trace of sawdust and soap — the kind of scent that lingered long after someone left the room.

Abigail peeked back in, eyes wide. “I swear, if you don’t marry him, I will.”

“Abby!”

“What? I’m just saying, the sexual tension in here could power the whole town.”

Taylor groaned, burying her face in her hands.

She told herself she wasn’t interested. That she was too busy rebuilding her life, too focused on her new job.

But later that night, as she graded essays at her desk, she found herself smiling at the memory of that smirk, that wink, that voice saying her name like it meant something.

And when her phone buzzed with a text from her mother that read:

Mom: Just ran into Travis at the hardware store. Lovely man. Very handy.

Taylor laughed out loud — because of course she did.

Chapter Text

Reading High’s fall festival planning meeting was supposed to be simple.

A few decorations. Some fairy lights. A bake sale table. Maybe the marching band if Principal Danner could find the funding.

But, of course, nothing involving small-town committees was ever simple.

“So, we’ll need someone to build the backdrop for the photo booth,” Principal Danner announced, flipping through his clipboard. “And, as luck would have it, Travis Kelce’s already volunteered to help.”

Taylor, who had been quietly sipping coffee and trying to blend into the wallpaper, nearly choked. “He what?”

Travis, lounging at the back of the staff room, raised a hand with mock innocence. “You needed help, didn’t you?”

Abigail smirked from across the table. “Oh, she definitely does.”

“Abby,” Taylor hissed.

“Just saying.”

And that was how Taylor Swift found herself, two afternoons later, standing in the school gym surrounded by lumber, paint cans, and one very irritatingly attractive handyman.

“Okay,” Travis said, scanning the plans she’d printed. “You want a floral arch, fairy lights, and a rustic backdrop. You do realize this is a high school gym, right? Not a wedding?”

Taylor crossed her arms. “I’m trying to make it nice. Just because teenagers can’t legally drink doesn’t mean they don’t deserve good ambiance.”

He grinned. “You always were particular.”

She lifted her chin. “And you always were a know-it-all.”

He stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe. But I do know how to use a drill.”

Her heartbeat tripped over itself. “Congratulations.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for the next hour, they worked side by side — sawing, painting, stringing up lights. To Taylor’s surprise, he was patient, funny, and incredibly capable.

When she struggled to reach one of the light hooks, he stepped behind her, bracing her ladder with one hand and steadying her waist with the other.

“Careful,” he said softly. “You’re tall, but not that tall.”

She froze — the heat of his palm on her side, the nearness of him, the way his voice dropped just enough to make her forget how to breathe.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed her.

He didn’t move. “I know.”

Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat too long, neither looked away.

Then the ladder wobbled, and Taylor nearly toppled right into him.

Travis caught her effortlessly, arms strong around her waist, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “Guess I’m still good at catching you, huh?”

“Still insufferable,” she muttered — but her cheeks were flaming.

He grinned. “You say that a lot. Gonna start thinking you mean something else.”

“Don’t push your luck, Kelce.”

He just smiled wider, and the air between them crackled — familiar and new all at once.

---

By the time they finished, the gym looked like something out of a fairy tale — soft lights, warm wood, and flowers that somehow didn’t look like plastic.

Travis stood back, hands on his hips. “Not bad, Swift. You’ve got an eye for this.”

Taylor tried not to melt at the sight of him — sawdust in his hair, shirt clinging to his chest, that infuriatingly proud grin. “Thanks. You did okay too.”

“Just okay?”

She arched a brow. “Don’t get cocky.”

He took a slow step closer, the teasing edge in his smile softening. “Too late.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The gym lights flickered softly, the air humming with something that felt a lot like trouble.

Then Abigail burst through the doors, waving her phone. “Oh my god, you two! The moms’ group chat already thinks you’re dating!”

Taylor spun around. “What? Why?”

“Apparently someone saw you two in here and said you looked awfully cozy.”

Travis’s grin turned wicked. “We should give them something to talk about.”

Taylor glared. “Don’t you dare.”

He chuckled, hands raised in mock surrender. “What? Just saying — I don’t mind a little small-town speculation.”

Abigail waggled her brows. “Neither do the rest of us.”

Taylor groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I hate you both.”

But as she packed up to leave, she couldn’t stop smiling — or thinking about the way he’d looked at her, steady and sure, like he’d been waiting years for this second chance.

Chapter Text

By Monday morning, the entire town of Reading apparently knew that Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce had spent Friday afternoon alone together in the school gym.

“Alone” was a strong word. “Working on decorations under professional supervision” was more accurate.

But small towns didn’t deal in accuracy. They dealt in storytelling.

And by the time Taylor walked into the teachers’ lounge, the storytelling had turned into a full-blown romance saga.

“Morning, Taylor,” said Mrs. Carmichael, the art teacher, stirring her coffee with suspicious enthusiasm. “Heard you’ve been... busy lately.”

Taylor froze. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Mrs. Carmichael’s eyes twinkled. “That gym looked amazing, dear. You and Travis make a great team.”

“Uh-huh.” Taylor forced a smile, grabbed her mug, and fled.

Abigail was waiting for her in the hallway, grinning like she’d been counting down to this exact moment. “So… the group chat is alive this morning.”

Taylor groaned. “What now?”

Abigail scrolled through her phone, reading aloud. “ ‘Heard Travis Kelce spent hours with Taylor Swift in the gym. Said they were painting together.’ ”

Taylor raised a brow. “And that’s gossip-worthy?”

“Oh wait, it gets better.” Abigail smirked. “ ‘Saw them laughing. Looked real comfortable together. Probably not about the photo booth, if you ask me.’ ”

Taylor slapped a hand over her face. “I hate this town.”

“No, you don’t.” Abigail looped her arm through hers. “You love this town. And besides, you should see the looks Travis was getting at the diner this morning.”

Taylor blinked. “He was at the diner?”

“Uh-huh. Breakfast crowd went wild when he ordered a cinnamon roll to go. You wanna guess who they think it was for?”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Oh yes.”

“Abigail!”

Her friend just cackled. “I’m telling you, Tay, you can deny it all you want, but that man’s got it bad.”

Taylor tried to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “He does not. We’re just—”

“—flirting like a Hallmark movie with better lighting?”

“Working.”

Abigail grinned. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

---

Travis found her later that afternoon, right after her last class. He leaned against the doorframe, all easy charm and that crooked smile that drove her up a wall.

“Hey, Swift.”

She didn’t look up from her desk. “If you’re here to talk about the rumor mill—”

“Oh, I’ve already heard it,” he said, walking in. “Apparently we’re engaged now.”

She glared. “Don’t joke.”

He shrugged, amused. “Why not? Could be worse. You could be ‘secretly seeing the gym teacher.’ ”

“Travis—”

He grinned wider. “Kidding. Mostly.”

She sighed, fighting a smile. “You really don’t take anything seriously, do you?”

“Oh, I take plenty seriously,” he said softly, stepping closer. “I just don’t see the point in running from something good.”

Her heart skipped. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head, studying her. “It means I like spending time with you. And I’d like to do it again — maybe when we’re not hanging fairy lights in a high school gym.”

Taylor blinked. “Are you asking me out?”

“Depends,” he said, that smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You gonna say yes?”

She hesitated, then laughed under her breath. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a maybe.”

“Travis—”

“Friday night,” he interrupted. “Dinner. Nothing fancy. Just you, me, and whatever small-town gossip survives until then.”

She tried to keep her voice steady. “We’ll see.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “That’s not a no.”

And with that, he walked out — leaving her heart racing and her students staring through the window like they’d just witnessed a live episode of The Bachelor: Reading Edition.

---

By Friday, the whole town was watching.

Taylor swore even the barista at the coffee shop winked when she ordered her usual that morning.

“You seeing anyone special tonight, Miss Swift?”

“Just… grading papers.”

“Uh-huh,” the barista said, handing her cup over with a knowing grin.

By the time she arrived at Travis’s house — tucked at the edge of town, overlooking the old football field — she’d nearly talked herself out of it three times.

But when he opened the door, wearing a soft flannel shirt and that grin that made her stomach swoop, she forgot every reason she’d had to hesitate.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.”

“You look…” He trailed off, eyes flicking down her dress, then back up again. “Beautiful.”

She smiled. “You clean up nice yourself, Kelce.”

Dinner was simple — takeout from the diner, a bottle of red wine, music playing softly in the background.

They talked about everything and nothing — childhood memories, old teachers, ridiculous stories about Abigail’s teenage escapades.

And somewhere between the laughter and the comfortable silences, something shifted.

The way he looked at her — like she was the only person in the world who made sense — made her forget that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

After dessert, they ended up on his porch, the night air cool and the stars sharp against the dark sky.

Travis leaned against the railing, watching her with quiet amusement. “You’re still thinking too much.”

“I am not.”

He stepped closer. “You are. I can practically see the gears turning.”

She smiled softly. “It’s just… been a long time since something felt this easy.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Then stop fighting it.”

For once, she didn’t.

When he kissed her, it wasn’t fireworks or fanfare — it was warmth and steadiness, the slow kind of kiss that said home.

And for the first time since her life had fallen apart, Taylor didn’t feel lost. She felt found.

Chapter Text

The sunlight in Travis’s kitchen was golden. Not the faint, gray sort that filtered through London fog, but the kind that poured in through open windows and wrapped itself around you like a soft blanket.

Taylor stood barefoot at the counter, his oversized flannel hanging off her shoulders, trying not to grin every time she caught him watching her.

“Are you going to keep staring, or are you actually going to make those pancakes?” she teased.

He smirked, flipping one with practiced ease. “You’re one to talk, Swift. You’ve been standing there pretending to pour coffee for five minutes.”

“I am savoring the moment.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Maybe I am.”

He chuckled, leaning across the counter. “Can’t say I mind.”

Taylor bit back a smile, heart fluttering at how easy it felt — the kind of morning that made her forget the mess that had brought her home.

Everything about Travis’s house felt lived in. Mismatched mugs, half-built shelves, the faint smell of cedar and fresh paint. She liked that about him — he didn’t pretend to have everything figured out.

“So,” he said, sliding a plate of pancakes her way. “How’s it feel to officially be the most talked-about woman in Reading?”

Taylor groaned. “Oh no. What happened now?”

Travis looked far too pleased with himself. “Well, when I stopped at the diner for coffee, Earl said he heard from his cousin’s wife’s hairdresser that you and I were—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—‘hot and heavy,’ was the phrase.”

She covered her face. “Oh my god.”

“I think it’s kinda romantic.”

“Romantic?!” she sputtered, laughing. “Travis, your town gossip network could put MI6 to shame!”

He shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? They’re invested in a good love story.”

Her laughter softened, and for a moment they just looked at each other — that quiet, unspoken connection stretching between them like sunlight through the window.

Travis reached over, brushing his thumb across her jaw. “You know… you could stay tonight. Again. Or longer. As long as you want.”

Taylor’s breath caught. “Are you asking me to move in?”

His grin turned a little shy. “Maybe not yet. But I’m not gonna pretend I don’t want that.”

Her pulse stumbled. The thought of this — the warmth, the laughter, the soft, sleepy mornings — felt too good to be real.

She swallowed. “Let’s take it slow.”

He nodded. “Slow’s fine. I’ve waited this long.”

Even so it ended up being Sunday afternoon before she reluctantly left his house, still tasting him on her lips, her hair smelling faintly of cedar and coffee.

---

The second she stepped into the school parking lot on Monday morning, the world came rushing back — the chatter of students, the flutter of papers, the faint buzz of gossip that seemed louder than usual today.

“Miss Swift!” called Abigail from across the hallway, waving a folder. “You might want to brace yourself.”

“For what now?” Taylor sighed.

“Visitor in your classroom.”

Taylor frowned. “Who?”

Abigail’s expression turned sheepish. “Blond, British, looks like he ironed his soul along with his shirt.”

Taylor’s stomach dropped. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

She turned the corner and there he was — Joe. Standing in her classroom like he belonged there, looking every bit the polished, self-satisfied Londoner he’d always been.

“Taylor,” he said smoothly, his accent slicing through the air like it always did. “You look well.”

“Joe, What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thought I’d see how you’re settling in.”

“‘In the area?’” she repeated flatly. “We’re almost four thousand miles from London.”

He had the nerve to shrug. “I’ve been… thinking about us. About how things ended.”

Taylor folded her arms. “Joe —”

“Maybe I made a mistake,” he said, stepping closer. “We had something good, didn’t we?”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted from the doorway.

“Everything okay here?”

Travis.

He was holding a brown paper bag — lunch, from the look of it — and the easy warmth on his face flickered when his eyes landed on Joe.

Taylor’s throat tightened.

Joe turned, smiling politely. “Ah. You must be…?”

“Travis Kelce,” he said, his tone calm but cool. “And you are?”

“Joe Alwyn. Taylor’s—” Joe hesitated, clearly realizing he didn’t have a label anymore. “Old friend.”

Travis’s jaw flexed, the faintest spark of jealousy flashing across his expression. “Right. Well, her old friend should know she’s got class in five minutes.”

Taylor opened her mouth to defuse it, but the tension in the room was thick enough to taste. Joe’s smirk didn’t help.

“Nice to meet you,” he said lightly, extending a hand.

Travis didn’t take it. “Can’t say the same.”

Joe raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to Taylor. “We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The silence that followed felt charged.

Travis set the lunch bag on her desk. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t.”

His eyes softened, but there was still something stormy in them. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That was… unexpected.”

He nodded slowly, then exhaled through his nose. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

And before she could say anything, he was gone too.

---

By the end of the day, Taylor sat alone at her desk, staring at the now-cold cup of coffee, heart caught somewhere between gratitude and guilt.

This weekend had felt like a dream.
Now it felt like the dream had been shattered.

And she couldn’t help but wonder — for the first time in weeks — if her past had really stayed behind her after all.

Chapter Text

Taylor hadn’t even made it through her front door before her phone started buzzing. Again.

The group chat with Abigail and a few of the other teachers was on fire.

Abigail (Science): Sooooo guess who showed up at the school today 👀
Karen (Math): Was it the man with the accent??
Abigail (Science): The very one.
Sophie (History): British?? Blond?? Arrogant hot or pretentious hot??
Abigail (Science): Pretentious hot. The kind that smells like expensive cologne and red flags.
Taylor (English): You’re all ridiculous.
Abigail (Science): We love you. But also… what’s the tea?

Taylor groaned and tossed her phone onto the couch just as her mom appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Sweetheart,” Andrea said in that tone that could only mean trouble. “Would you care to explain why Marge at the bakery just asked if your ‘British ex’ was here to win you back?”

Taylor closed her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—”

Andrea tried, and failed, to look serious. “I told her you were very happy with Travis, of course.”

Taylor’s eyes flew open. “Mom!”

“What? It’s true! And honestly, I don’t see why you’re hiding it. Everyone is already talking about you being seen going to his place Friday evening and then not being seen leaving until Sunday afternoon…apparently glowing as Marge put it.”

Taylor dropped her face into her hands. “You’re worse than the gossip mill.”

Andrea smirked, unabashed. “I’m an efficient woman. And I like Travis. He’s steady. Reliable. Easy on the eyes. That Joe boy always looked like he’d rather be in a boardroom than at a barbecue.”

Taylor tried not to laugh. “You make it sound like I’m dating for résumé balance.”

Andrea raised a brow. “You could do worse. But honey—” Her voice softened. “Don’t let the past make you question what’s good right now.”

Taylor nodded, her heart squeezing. “I know.”

Except she didn’t. Not entirely. Because part of her still felt the sharp sting of Travis’s face when he’d seen Joe— that quiet, controlled jealousy that lingered behind his polite words.

And she hated that she couldn’t blame him for it.

---

The next morning, Taylor spotted Travis at the hardware store downtown — or rather, pretended not to spot him.

He was by the counter, talking to the owner, and she could tell instantly from the set of his shoulders that he was… off.

Gone was the easy smile and teasing spark. In its place: quiet reserve.

She picked up a box of nails she didn’t need, debating whether to walk over, when he turned — and saw her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he nodded, polite. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she echoed, trying to sound casual.

“Need something fixed?”

“Just… supplies. For the school bulletin board.”

He nodded again, eyes flicking briefly to the floor. “Good.”

Taylor forced a smile. “You don’t have to act weird, you know.”

“I’m not.”

“You are absolutely acting weird.”

Travis exhaled, jaw flexing. “Look, I’m not mad. I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not easy seeing the guy who broke your heart show up out of nowhere, acting like he’s got a claim.”

Taylor blinked, caught off guard by the quiet honesty in his voice.

“Travis…”

“I know,” he said quickly. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I just—” He hesitated, eyes softening. “I like what we’ve got, Taylor. And I don’t want him making you doubt it.”

Her throat tightened. “He doesn’t. I promise.”

For a long moment, they just stood there — the hum of the store filling the silence. Then, slowly, his shoulders eased.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

And when he smiled — that warm, genuine smile that always made her chest ache — Taylor felt the knot in her stomach loosen a little.

---

Unfortunately, Reading wasn’t about to let things calm down.

By lunchtime, everyone in town seemed to have an opinion on the mysterious British man.

At the diner, Taylor and Abigail sat in their usual booth while Marge refilled their coffee cups with barely contained excitement.

“So,” Marge said, leaning on the counter. “He’s handsome, then?”

Abigail snorted. “If you like your men pressed and polished.”

Marge sighed. “I do love an accent.”

Taylor groaned. “Can we please not turn my personal life into a local pastime?”

Marge gave her a look. “Sweetheart, you won the heart of the most eligible bachelor in town. You’re practically Reading royalty now.”

Taylor covered her face. “Oh god.”

Abigail grinned. “Hey, it could be worse. At least they’re rooting for the right guy this time.”

Taylor looked up, smiling faintly. “Yeah. They are.”

---

That evening, Taylor sat curled up on her couch, laptop open, grading papers. Her phone buzzed — a new text.

Joe: I’d really like to talk. Dinner tomorrow? Just to clear the air.

Taylor stared at the screen.

Before she could decide what to say, another text came in —

Travis: Got an extra ticket to the Friday game. Wanna come?

She exhaled slowly, staring between the two messages — one from her past, one from everything she wanted her future to be.

And for the first time in a long time, the choice didn’t scare her.

She typed back.

Taylor: I’d love to.

Then she set the phone down, heart fluttering.

Because she might not know where this road led, but she knew exactly who she wanted beside her when she found out.

Chapter Text

There were few things Reading loved more than a Friday night football game.

The whole town seemed to gather under the glow of the field lights — kids running wild with popcorn, parents bundled in blankets, and the smell of hot chocolate and fry oil thick in the air.

Taylor stood at the edge of the bleachers, scarf wrapped around her neck, heart thrumming with anticipation.

It wasn’t that she cared about football — not really. But Travis did.

He was out on the field now, whistle hanging from his neck, that easy confidence radiating off him as he barked instructions to the players. She could see how they listened to him, trusted him. He wasn’t just the “handyman” here. He was Coach Kelce — steady, respected, admired.

And, if the way the moms in the front row were whispering was any indication, more than a little swoon-worthy.

Abigail nudged her. “You’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The look that says, ‘I’m pretending to understand football, but really, I’m just staring at Travis’s arms.’”

Taylor laughed, covering her face. “I hate how transparent I am.”

“You love it,” Abigail teased. “And so does he.”

Taylor glanced back toward the field just in time to catch Travis glancing up at her from the sidelines, that quick, crooked smile that made her knees a little weak.

Yeah. He definitely did.

---

The game kicked off, loud and electric. Taylor found herself caught up in the rhythm of it — the cheers, the whistles, the whole town pulsing with energy. Every time the team scored, Travis’s grin split wide, boyish and bright.

When the clock ran down to the final seconds, Reading clung to a fragile two-point lead. The crowd roared, hearts pounding in unison, and then — the whistle blew.

Victory.

The stands erupted.

Taylor was laughing, clapping, already halfway down the bleachers when she saw him.

Joe.

Standing just beyond the fence, immaculate as ever in his tailored coat and smug smile, like he’d wandered straight off a London street and into the middle of her life again.

Her breath caught.

He gave a little wave. “Taylor.”

“Joe,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you,” he said, as if this were perfectly normal. “I wanted to talk. You didn’t answer my message, so I thought I’d find you.”

“In the middle of a football game?”

He smiled. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Taylor took a step back, scanning the crowd — and froze when she saw Travis coming toward them.

He was still in his coaching jacket, face flushed from the game, that post-win adrenaline still humming through him. But the second his eyes landed on Joe, the warmth drained out.

“Taylor.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “Everything all right?”

“Travis,” she began quickly, “this isn’t—” then trailed off unsure what to even say.

Joe’s smirk widened and in an overtly posh tone quipped “Ah, the handyman. Or should I say, Coach Kelce? Congratulations on the win.”

“Thanks,” Travis said shortly. “You didn’t need to come all this way to tell her that.”

Joe folded his arms. “Actually, I came to remind Taylor of something. We shared six years, Travis. That’s not something you just forget overnight.”

The words hit the air like a spark.

Taylor’s stomach twisted. “Joe, stop—”

But Travis’s expression hardened, the quiet jealousy from earlier now burning just beneath the surface. “She doesn’t owe you anything, man. You made your choice.”

“And maybe it was the wrong one,” Joe said coolly. “People make mistakes.”

Travis stepped closer. “Some mistakes don’t get second chances.”

“Gentlemen,” Abigail hissed, suddenly appearing at Taylor’s side, eyes wide. “There are children present!”

But neither of them seemed to hear her.

Taylor’s heart pounded. The crowd around them was still buzzing from the win, unaware of the private storm brewing just a few feet away.

“Travis,” she said softly, reaching for his arm. “Please. Let’s just go.”

His jaw flexed. Then he nodded, slowly. “Fine.”

He turned to her, voice low. “You coming?”

She nodded — but when she glanced back, Joe’s expression had changed. Not smug now, but quiet, almost pleading.

“Taylor,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Just think about what we had.”

For a second — one small, traitorous second — her heart stuttered with the echo of old memories.

And Travis saw it.

He didn’t say another word. Just turned, shoulders stiff, and started toward the parking lot.

Taylor hesitated, torn between two ghosts — the one from her past and the one walking away in front of her.

Then she went after Travis.

---

They didn’t speak for most of the drive back. The truck was filled with the low hum of the heater and the sound of her own racing thoughts.

Finally, she said quietly, “He shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” Travis agreed. “He shouldn’t have.”

She turned toward him, trying to read his expression in the dim glow of the dashboard. “You’re mad.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m just… trying to figure out if you’re still looking back while I’m trying to move forward.”

The words landed like a stone in her chest.

“Travis—”

“Taylor, I care about you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I can’t fight a ghost. I’m not gonna be some rebound you run to when London gets too far away.”

Her throat tightened. “You’re not.”

“Then prove it.”

She swallowed hard, heart aching. “I will.”

But the silence that followed said he wasn’t sure he believed her.

And for the first time since she’d come home, Taylor wasn’t sure she believed herself, either.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the world outside Taylor’s window was still — that soft kind of stillness that only came after a storm.

Her phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark. No new messages.

She’d half expected one from Travis. Half dreaded one from Joe.
Instead, there was just… silence.

And somehow, that hurt more than either of them would have.

Taylor dragged herself out of bed, tying her robe around her waist and padding downstairs. The familiar smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen — and so did her mother’s voice, humming off-key to the radio.

Andrea looked up when Taylor entered, instantly reading her expression. “Oh no. That’s your heartbreak face.”

Taylor groaned. “Please don’t call it that.”

Andrea poured her a mug anyway. “Then tell me why you look like someone just canceled Christmas.”

Taylor took the mug and leaned against the counter. “Travis. Joe. The entire town probably waiting for episode two of Taylor Swift’s Love Life: The Miniseries.”

Andrea’s brow furrowed. “I saw Joe last night. Tried to talk to you during the game, didn’t he?”

Taylor blinked. “You saw him?”

“Sweetheart, it’s a small town. We all saw him. You’re lucky there’s not a commemorative plaque already.”

Taylor groaned. “Oh, perfect.”

Andrea softened, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Taylor, you know I’ve watched you go through that heartbreak once. I won’t watch you do it again — not with someone who already had their chance.”

Taylor looked down at her coffee. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” Andrea said gently. “You can’t build a future if you’re still standing in the ruins of the past.”

The words hit home in that quiet, undeniable way only her mother’s could.

Taylor sighed. “I don’t want to lose Travis.”

“Then go remind him he’s not competing with a memory.”

Taylor smiled faintly. “You make it sound easy.”

Andrea winked. “Sweetheart, you survived six years of London traffic and that man’s turtlenecks. You’ll be fine.”

---

By afternoon, Taylor had made up her mind.
She was done letting other people write her story for her.

She stopped by the hardware store, only to learn Travis had taken the day off. The guy behind the counter smiled apologetically. “Said he was working on the Miller place up by the lake.”

Taylor hesitated — the lake was where he went when he needed space.

And maybe that’s exactly where she needed to go, too.

---

The drive up was quiet, the kind of scenic calm that usually helped her think. The road curved around golden fields, past the tall trees that marked the edge of town.

When she finally saw his truck parked by the lake, her heart clenched.

Travis was there, standing by the water, jacket open against the wind. He looked up when he heard the car door shut.

“Didn’t expect to see you,” he said, voice steady but distant.

Taylor swallowed hard. “I had to.”

He nodded once, staring out at the water. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Taylor.”

“I know. But I’m giving you one anyway.”

He finally looked at her — tired, conflicted, still beautiful in a way that made her chest ache.

She took a step closer. “Joe showing up like that—it threw me. I won’t lie about it. Part of me saw him and remembered everything I thought we were. But then I looked at you.”

His brow furrowed slightly.

“And I realized,” she continued softly, “that I wasn’t remembering what I missed. I was remembering what I survived.”

Travis’s jaw loosened a little, but he stayed quiet.

“I don’t want him, Travis. Not even a little. I want you. I want this town and your messy kitchen and the way you look at me like I’m not something broken you need to fix.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes searching hers. “You mean that?”

She nodded. “Every word.”

He was silent for a moment, then the corner of his mouth tugged upward — small, cautious, but real. “You really do have a way of cutting through the noise, don’t you?”

“I learned from the best handyman in town,” she teased softly.

That finally earned her a chuckle — low, warm, the kind of sound that made her whole body unclench.

He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the hint of sawdust still clinging to his jacket. “You know I was jealous as hell, right?”

“I figured,” she admitted. “You’re lucky it was more ‘brooding cowboy’ than ‘jealous ex.’”

He laughed quietly. “That’s a relief.”

“Travis?”

“Yeah?”

She met his gaze, steady and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile deepened, eyes soft. “Good.”

And then he kissed her — slow, certain, tasting of forgiveness and second chances.

---

Back in town, Joe sat alone at the café window, staring down at the untouched cup of tea in front of him.

He’d meant to stop by one more time — to try again, one last push to win her back.

But watching from the road as Taylor’s car pulled up to the lake, as she stepped out and Travis’s face softened at the sight of her — that had told him everything he needed to know.

She wasn’t his to win anymore.

And maybe, finally, it was time he stopped pretending she ever was.

---

By the next morning, the gossip mill had moved on — something about the mayor’s niece and a stolen lawn ornament.

Taylor didn’t care.

Because when she woke up with Travis’s arm around her, sunlight spilling across his flannel sheets, she knew that this was what she’d been searching for all along — not London, not the perfect plan.

Just the quiet, steady kind of love that built a home from the ground up.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks rolled by like the town itself had finally exhaled.

The air turned crisp, the leaves shifting to that lazy gold that made everything feel like a postcard. The Friday-night football lights were dimmed now, but the buzz of community — and gossip — still hummed beneath every cup of diner coffee and grocery store aisle chat.

Taylor and Travis had become a quiet fixture in it all.

They didn’t flaunt their relationship, but they didn’t hide it either. She’d come by his place after work with a stack of essays under her arm, he’d show up to the school parking lot with lunch — sometimes a sandwich, sometimes just an excuse to see her.

They moved around each other like it had always been this way.

---

One Saturday morning, Taylor stood barefoot in Travis’s kitchen, sipping coffee while he worked on fixing the wobbly shelf above the stove.

“Do you ever not fix things?” she asked, watching him balance a screwdriver between his fingers.

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “Not when they keep calling my name.”

She smiled into her mug. “You realize you just flirted with a shelf, right?”

He laughed, setting down the screwdriver. “You’re jealous of the shelf?”

“Maybe a little. It’s getting more attention than me.”

Travis turned, stepping toward her until he was close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. “Can’t have that, can we?”

He brushed his hand along her jaw, tilting her chin up before kissing her — slow and lazy, like they had nowhere to be.

When he pulled back, his voice was low. “That better?”

“Maybe,” she said with mock suspicion. “I’ll let you know if I need further proof.”

He grinned. “You’re insatiable.”

“I’m thorough.”

---

Later, as they sat on the porch swing, the quiet afternoon wrapped around them like a blanket.

Taylor leaned against his shoulder, the smell of sawdust and cedar still clinging to him. “You ever think about how weird this is? That I used to think you were insufferable?”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Still not sure if that was flirting or not.”

“It was… teenage confusion,” she admitted. “You were loud and smug and—”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“Cocky,” she corrected, poking his ribs.

He laughed. “You know, I used to dream about you. Back in high school. About you noticing me. Never figured it’d actually happen.”

Taylor smiled softly. “I notice you now.”

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know.”

They sat there for a while, listening to the soft creak of the swing, the hum of the world slowing down.

Then Travis cleared his throat, nerves flickering in his tone. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous words,” she teased.

“I know,” he said with a smile, but his fingers fidgeted with the edge of the cushion. “I was thinking that… maybe it doesn’t make sense for you to keep driving back and forth all the time.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You offering chauffeur services now?”

He chuckled. “I’m saying — maybe you should just… stay. Here. With me.”

Taylor blinked. “Like… stay over?”

He shook his head slowly. “Like move in. Make this your home too.”

The words hung in the air — not rushed, not flashy, just honest.

Taylor felt something catch in her chest. “Travis…”

He met her gaze, steady and certain. “You don’t have to say yes now. But I meant what I told you by the lake. I’m not here to fix you. I just want to build something with you. Us. Whatever that looks like.”

Her heart swelled, full and aching. “You realize my mom will start monogramming towels the second she finds out.”

He laughed, relief threading through it. “I can handle Andrea.”

Taylor tilted her head, smiling softly. “You sure about that?”

“No,” he admitted. “But for you, I’ll try.”

She laughed, then pressed her hand against his chest — right where his heart thudded steady beneath her palm. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

She leaned in and kissed him — slow, lingering, full of that quiet yes that didn’t even need words.

When she finally pulled back, she whispered, “Then I guess I better start packing.”

He grinned, eyes warm and bright. “Guess I better build a bigger closet.”

---

That night, as they lay tangled together in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Taylor realized something she hadn’t in a long time — she wasn’t afraid anymore.

Not of starting over.
Not of falling again.
Not of being happy.

Because somehow, between broken hearts and second chances, she’d found her way home.

Chapter Text

One Year Later

The town of Reading had changed a little — a new café on Main Street, a fresh coat of paint on the old bookstore, and a few more laugh lines on the faces of people who still waved at every car that passed.

But some things never changed.

Friday night lights still glowed over the football field, kids still raced down the bleachers with popcorn, and somewhere in the stands, Taylor still sat wrapped in Travis’s old flannel, the air crisp with autumn.

This was where their story had turned...

And tonight, it was about to turn again.

---

Taylor clapped as the game whistle blew, the crowd roaring around her. Travis’s team had done it — state semifinals, and they’d played like champions.

She spotted him across the field, clipboard in hand, that proud grin tugging at his mouth as the players swarmed him in celebration.

A year later, and he still made her heart skip like the first time he smiled at her.

When the crowd began to thin, she walked down to the field — boots crunching over the grass, her scarf whipping in the wind.

He turned when he saw her, grin widening. “Hey there, Coach’s girl.”

She laughed. “Still not sure I like that title.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “You want a better one?”

Before she could answer, he reached into his jacket pocket — and for a heartbeat, everything went still.

Her eyes widened. “Travis…”

He smiled softly, nerves flickering behind his steady gaze. “You remember what you said the night I asked you to move in? That your mom would start monogramming towels?”

Taylor laughed breathlessly. “She did.”

“I figured we might as well make it official.”

He dropped to one knee right there on the fifty-yard line — where it had all begun. The same place where the town first saw them kiss.

Gasps echoed from the bleachers that hadn’t yet emptied, but all Taylor could see was him.

“Taylor Swift,” he said, voice warm and sure, “I’ve loved you since I was seventeen and you rolled your eyes at me in homeroom. You’re stubborn, brilliant, impossible, and the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes blurred with tears. “You realize half the town is watching, right?”

He smiled crookedly. “Guess they might as well see how it ends.”

She laughed through her tears, nodding. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

He slid the ring onto her finger — simple, beautiful, perfectly her — and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Then he stood, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her — one of those deep, soul-steadying kisses that told everyone watching what love looked like when it finally found its way home.

---

Later that night, after the noise and the hugs and the endless congratulations, they sat together on the porch swing. The moon hung low and gold, a hush over the quiet town.

Taylor leaned against him, her hand resting over his heart.

“You okay?” he murmured.

She smiled. “Better than okay.”

“Good,” he said, brushing a kiss to her temple.

“I was hoping you might like another surprise.” She grinned, heart thudding, and reached into her bag. "Because I’ve got something for you too.”

Travis watched curiously as she handed him a small wrapped box.

“Go on,” she urged.

He unwrapped it carefully — then froze.

Inside was a tiny white baby onesie, soft and simple, with dark lettering across the front that read:
“Dad’s Newest DIY Project — Coming Soon.”

He looked up at her, speechless. “You mean—?”

She nodded, tears brimming but her smile bright and sure. “I mean you’re going to be a dad, Travis.”

For a long moment, he just stared — then laughed, the sound breaking with pure joy as he pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered against her hair. “You just made me the happiest man alive.”

She laughed, crying and grinning all at once. “That was kind of the plan.”

He kissed her again, tender and full of wonder. “You’ve given me everything I ever dreamed of.”

Taylor smiled through her tears, her hand finding his. “No, Travis. We built it — together.”

The porch light flickered, the town quiet, the stars above endless.

And somewhere between the laughter and the promise of all that was still to come, they realized — this wasn’t just a love story.

It was the rest of forever.

---

🌙 The End