Page 24

Zane

The drive back to Braysen is quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Wyatt doesn’t push for conversation or demand answers I don’t have yet. Instead, she slides across the bench seat again, pressing herself against my side, and rests her head on my shoulder.

I exhale, some of the tension in my chest loosening as I settle my hand on her thigh. Without hesitation, she laces her fingers with mine, and a sense of calm washes over me.

Whatever Reed has to tell me—whatever he found—it’ll be okay. Maybe not right away, but eventually. As long as I have Wyatt, I can take on anything thrown my way.

As I pull into the driveway, my stomach tightens at the sight of Colter’s truck parked out front. I already know what’s coming. He doesn’t know about the nights I climbed the tree outside Wyatt’s window just to sit with her in the quiet. Or how we’ve held each other up through our worst and best moments. He’s always seen us as friends but never really understood what that meant.

And if I know Colter, he’ll have questions the second he sees us together like this.

Wyatt doesn’t wait for me to open her door. Instead, she steps out and meets me at the trunk, watching me closely.

I hold my hand out, offering it to her.

Her gaze flicks between my face and my hand, searching for something, before she exhales softly and slides her fingers between mine. It’s a small moment, but it carries so much weight.

I lead her up the steps to the front door. Normally, I don’t bother knocking when I come over, but something about this moment feels different. So I rap my knuckles against the wood before pushing the door open.

Tatum is curled up on the couch, flipping through something on her phone. She glances up as we step inside, her expression shifting into a warm smile.

“Hey, you two.” Her eyes flick down to our joined hands, and her smile grows.

“I’m guessing you’re here to talk to Reed,” she says, stretching out on the couch. “He mentioned he was helping you with something. He’s upstairs in our room if you want to head up.”

Wyatt squeezes my hand gently before letting go. “I’ll stay down here with Tate,” she says, already moving toward the couch. She must see my hesitation because she adds, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I nod, then take the stairs two at a time.

Reed’s and Tatum’s rooms are at the end of the hall, though they barely use them separately anymore. One is their bedroom, the other transformed into Reed’s gaming and tech space.

When I step into the room, I find him and Hayes both in gaming chairs, headsets on, barking orders into their mics. The massive TV on the wall flashes with whatever game they’re playing, but the desk setup on the other side of the room catches my attention.

Three large monitors are blacked out, locked behind a warning screen in Reed’s usual smart-ass fashion. Unauthorized Access Will Result in a Very Bad Day.

I smirk, but the unease in my chest doesn’t fade.

Reed’s good—scary good. Whatever he found, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.

They don’t hear me at first, so I knock against the wall, and both of their heads snap toward me.

“Jesus,” Reed mutters, pressing a hand to his chest. “You don’t think you could’ve made yourself known before scaring the shit out of us?”

I arch a brow. “I did. Said ‘hey’ when I walked in, but you two were so lost in your own world, I could’ve set off fireworks and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Hayes rolls his eyes and reaches for his headset, sliding it off as he flicks off the game. Reed follows suit, spinning his chair toward me.

“What the hell do you have for me that was so urgent you had to call and tell me to get my ass over here ASAP?”

Reed lifts his hands in surrender before rolling his chair closer to his desk. His fingers fly over the keyboard as he types in his password, and the screen flickers to life. A string of open tabs and documents come into view, along with a folder labeled Kinnick sitting front and center.

“Okay, so, first things first,” he says. “I wanted to weed out what’s just media drama and clickbait versus what’s actually real. You know how the tabloids have been running stories about your dad for years—accusations of affairs, whispers of divorce, the whole nine yards? How much of that is true?”

The floorboards creak behind me, and I turn to find Colter standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

Out of everyone here, he knows the weight of the truth better than most. He was there for me, opening his door every time I needed to get away from the late-night fights, the slammed doors, the sharp words I was never supposed to hear. He knows damn well my dad threw a hell of a lot of money at those rumors to make them disappear.

“Yeah,” I say, exhaling through my nose. “I don’t know the full extent, but I’ve overheard plenty over the years. The shouting. The arguing. The times they barely spoke to each other at all.”

Colter nods, eyes flicking away. I can’t tell if Reed already filled him in on what he found or if his expression is just a reflection of all the shit I used to run from.

Reed leans forward, clicking through a few files. “All right, well, after the fight at Alpha Nu, I started digging into our boy Luca and those comments he made about your dad. I wanted to know if there was a connection there—something personal—or if he was just parroting whatever crap he read online.”

I shift my weight, watching as a folder expands across the screen. “And?”

“At first, nothing crazy. He googled your family, scrolled through social media, the usual stalker shit. His email didn’t show much either. I figured maybe he was just another dude with a grudge because you cut in and stole his girl—”

I tense, my jaw locking.

Reed leans back in his chair, his tone casual despite the bomb he’s just dropped. “Relax,” he mutters. “I’m just saying, I get why he’d be pissed. You show up, Wyatt stops talking to him, and when that doesn’t rattle you, he switches tactics and tries to get to you through Myla.”

My fingers curl into fists, my jaw locking tight. I knew Luca was a shit-stirrer, but I hadn’t thought about it like that before. I figured he was just throwing out low blows, trying to piss me off for the hell of it.

But this?

This was calculated.

“He couldn’t shake you with Wyatt, so he went after your sister instead,” Reed continues, his voice level like he’s breaking down game footage. “Classic move. Hit where it hurts.”

Behind me, Colter shifts, the sound barely noticeable but heavy enough to remind me he’s there—hearing everything. I keep my focus on Reed, forcing myself not to look at my best friend while my relationship with his sister is being laid out like some open secret.

I nod, forcing the thought away. “So what’s the problem, then?”

Reed hesitates, his lips pressing together. “It didn’t sit right with me. The way he came at you—it felt personal like something deeper was fueling that anger. And when I kept digging, I found something that might explain why.”

My stomach tightens.

I’d assumed Luca was just another entitled asshole with a bruised ego. But the look in Reed’s eyes tells me it’s more than that. And for the first time since I walked in here, I’m not sure I want to hear what comes next.

Reed exhales heavily, his voice carefully measured as he clicks through more emails. “It looks like his mom might have been one of the women your dad had an affair with…” His words hang in the air, thick with implication.

My entire body goes rigid. “Excuse me? What the hell would make you say that? You just told me you didn’t find much on Luca.”

Reed shifts in his chair, his fingers tapping against the desk. “Not on his computer. That didn’t lead me anywhere. So I started digging into the people closest to him. He’s an only child, so that meant looking into his mom and grandparents. It took some time, but I was able to access his mom’s emails. That’s where I found these.”

He clicks again, and an email thread fills the screen. The sender’s name isn’t what makes my stomach drop—it’s the email address.

James Kinnick. My father.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears. “What the fuck…”

Reed nods grimly. “At first, it was all business. They were working together on a brand sponsorship deal when he was playing for the Hornets. The emails started off professional—talking contracts, setting up meetings. But then things shifted. The meetings became more private. More frequent.”

My jaw clenches. “How do you know?”

Reed clicks to another email attachment. “Because she was booking hotel rooms and sending the receipts directly to him. The charges line up with deposits I found coming from your dad’s business account.”

The room tilts slightly as the weight of his words settles. “He was using his business accounts to cover it up,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.

Colter mutters a sharp, “Asshole,” while Hayes exhales a low curse.

“Well, it’s not like we didn’t already know he was a sleazy fucker,” Hayes mutters. “But this? Jesus. This is a whole new level. What else did you find? When was the last time they spoke?”

Reed’s expression darkens. “That’s where it gets interesting. This all started around the time your mom was pregnant with Miles. They met up regularly—same hotels, same patterns. And those meetings? They aligned suspiciously well with your dad’s away game schedule.” He hesitates, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk. “But the emails stopped about seven months after you were born.”

My stomach twists, my pulse pounding like a war drum. “Are you trying to insinuate—” I break off, my throat closing.

Reed gives a slow, measured nod. “Luca was born two months after you. And… five months later, his mother legally changed his last name to Calloway.”

A chill spreads through me. “Changed? What was it before?”

Reed doesn’t have to say it.

Luca Kinnick.

My stomach tightens. “How do you even know he’s my dad’s? Maybe that’s why she changed it—to cover for someone else.”

“Could be,” Reed says with a shrug. “But even after their emails stopped, the payments kept coming. And we’re not talking pocket change.”

It wasn’t just child support. My father was paying to keep her silent. Buying her loyalty. Making sure the truth never got out.

I take a step back, my vision blurring at the edges. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air thick and suffocating.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Colter is suddenly at my side, gripping my arm to steady me. “Breathe, man,” he says, his voice firm but laced with concern.

But I can’t. My lungs aren’t working right. Every inhale feels shallow, strangled by the weight of what I’ve just learned.

Luca Calloway isn’t just some asshole who’s been running his mouth.

He’s my fucking brother.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just need a minute. Some air.” My voice is steady, but my hands are shaking.

Colter steps back, giving me space, but I can feel his eyes on me as I take off down the stairs, my legs moving faster than my mind can keep up. I nearly stumble, gripping the railing to steady myself.

The moment I step into the living room, I find Wyatt already on her feet, her brows pinched with worry.

“Zane? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes flick past me, searching for an answer from whoever followed me down. I don’t need to turn around to know Colter, Reed, and Hayes are hovering behind me, waiting for me to break.

I don’t give them the chance.

I cross the room in three strides, wrapping my hands around Wyatt’s waist, and without thinking, I lift her into my arms.

Her breath hitches. “Zane?”

The room is so quiet it feels suffocating. The weight of unspoken questions, of eyes digging into my back, presses down on me. I don’t stop moving. I need to get out of here, to get away from the walls closing in on me.

Carrying her through the dining room, I push open the back door and step outside. The crisp night air bites at my skin, but it’s not enough to cool the heat rising in my chest. I don’t stop until we round the garage, finding the same quiet spot we stood in the night of the bonfire.

“Zane, please,” Wyatt whispers, gripping my arms as I finally set her down. “Tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”

I don’t answer right away. I can’t.

Instead, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her in like she’s the only thing tethering me to the ground.

“My dad…” My voice barely comes out.

Her hands tighten on my back. “Did something happen to him? Did he call you?”

“No,” I rasp, shaking my head. “He’s fine.”

At least, physically.

But the world as I know it has just cracked open.

Wyatt waits, her body pressed against mine, giving me space to form the words I can barely believe myself.

“Luca Calloway…” I pull back just enough to look at her, my hands still framing her face. “He’s my half brother.”

The shock in her eyes mirrors the chaos inside me. Her mouth parts, but nothing comes out at first.

“What?” she finally breathes.

I exhale sharply, dragging my hands through my hair. “Reed found the proof. Emails, hotel records, payments—he put it all together.” I pause, swallowing hard. “Luca Kinnick. That was his name when he was born.”

Wyatt’s hand flies to her mouth. I see the moment it clicks—the resemblance, the tension, the way Luca has always had it out for me.

Does he know?

Does my dad?

Does my mom?

A fresh wave of nausea rolls through me, but Wyatt steadies me. She places her hands over my wrists, grounding me, guiding me to breathe.

In through my nose. Out through my mouth. The pressure in my chest eases, but it doesn’t disappear.

Colter’s voice rips through the night like a gunshot.

“Do you two want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Wyatt tenses in my arms. I don’t look at him right away.

Because how the hell am I supposed to say it out loud?