Page 30

Wyatt

Zane is leaning against his car when I step outside, the crisp evening air curling around me. His face is angled down, his expression unreadable, but the rigid set of his shoulders tells me something’s off.

The second my heels click against the driveway, his head lifts, and our eyes lock. Concern lingers in the furrow of his brows, but as his gaze drags over me—slow and assessing—his features soften, just a little.

“I love you too, Mom,” he murmurs into the phone, his voice quieter now. “Keep me updated.”

With a slow exhale, he ends the call and slides his phone into his pocket, then closes the distance between us in just a few strides. His arms wrap around my waist, his grip firm, like he needs this—needs me.

When he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin, I don’t hesitate to let my fingers slip into his hair, holding him close. He presses a lingering kiss to my shoulder, then another along my collarbone, his lips skimming my skin with an aching tenderness that makes my chest tighten. A shiver rolls through me, but I don’t pull away. I could stay here forever.

“How’s your mom?” I ask softly when he finally leans back, though his arms stay locked around me.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily, before reaching past me to open the car door.

I wait, sensing he’s not ready to answer just yet. It isn’t until he’s settled into the driver’s seat beside me that he finally speaks.

“She was calling to give me a heads-up before the news broke.” His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tension woven through it.

My stomach tightens. I haven’t checked my phone today, so I have no clue what he’s talking about. “What happened?”

Zane shifts in his seat, dragging a palm over his thigh before gripping the steering wheel like he needs something to anchor himself. “She filed for divorce. Any minute now, the media’s gonna catch wind of it, and it’s gonna spread like wildfire.”

I blink, absorbing the weight of his words. This isn’t just any breakup—it’s the unraveling of a marriage that’s shaped so much of Zane’s life. And with playoffs on the horizon, the timing couldn’t be worse.

I study him carefully. “How are you feeling about it?”

He turns his head, meeting my gaze with a shrug. “Is it messed up that I feel relieved?” He exhales a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Honestly, I wish it had happened years ago. Maybe things would’ve been different. Then again…” He shakes his head, glancing out the windshield. “Who knows where I would’ve ended up?”

He doesn’t have to say the words for me to understand. If his parents had split back then, this house—his childhood home—might not have stayed in the family. And his mom, Maggie, is from Virginia. She’d probably move back to be closer to her side of the family.

If that had happened, would Zane and I even be sitting here now? Would our lives have ever intertwined the way they have?

“It’s not messed up to feel relieved,” I say gently. “Your dad’s temper… the tension in that house. It’s been weighing on you for years.”

His scoff is sharp, but he nods, his fingers tightening on the wheel. For a moment, his expression turns distant, like he’s lost in a memory he doesn’t want to relive.

Then, his gaze lifts, locking onto mine, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. Or just someone who understands.

I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

Zane holds my stare, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know.”

He reaches between us, his fingers threading through mine, grounding me with his touch. He lifts our joined hands and presses a lingering kiss to the back of mine, his lips warm, reverent.

“I’m glad everything worked out the way it has,” he murmurs, his voice low but certain.

I swallow, breaking eye contact as I shift in my seat. The weight of his words settles between us, thick and heavy with everything left unsaid.

Zane doesn’t let me retreat into silence. “I know it took me too long to get here, Wy. I hate that I made you wait—that I kept pushing you away when all I wanted was to pull you closer.”

I lift my gaze, my brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

He exhales, running his free hand through his hair before shaking his head. “I wasn’t ready. I told myself I couldn’t love you the way you deserved. And as much as I hate admitting it, you walking away—forcing me to see that you weren’t going to put up with it, the way my mom always did—is what woke me up.”

A knot twists in my stomach.

Zane’s jaw tenses, his grip on my hand tightening. “I hate myself for hurting you. I let myself believe you’d always be there, that I could keep you at arm’s length and still have you. But I see now that I wasn’t just keeping you from getting too close. I was keeping myself from feeling it, too.”

I shake my head, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Zane, we’ve talked about this. We’re past that time now.”

“I still need to say this, okay? Please, just let me.” His voice is raw, pleading.

I press my lips together and nod.

He exhales slowly, gathering his thoughts. “The night at the party—the way you looked at me when you saw me with that girl—I fucking hated myself for it. Hated that I was the reason for that look in your eyes. And then, when I saw you with Luca…” His throat bobs as he swallows. “It wrecked me. But it wasn’t just about that. I spent my whole life fighting to prove I wasn’t like him. That I could make it to the league on my own, that I wasn’t just James Kinnick’s son. But when I saw what I’d done to you, I realized I was more like him than I ever wanted to admit.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.

Zane squeezes my hand, his grip firm, as if holding on to me is the only thing keeping him tethered. “I’m sorry, Wy. For every way I hurt you. For every time I made you doubt how much you meant to me.” His voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Tears blur my vision, my throat tightening painfully. Before I can think, before I can speak, I’m moving—sliding across the seat and into his arms.

Zane exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath, and wraps me in his embrace, pressing me into the solid warmth of his chest. His fingers weave through my hair, smoothing it back, and I press my face into him, inhaling the familiar, steadying scent of him. His heartbeat is strong beneath my ear, a slow, rhythmic thump grounding me in the moment.

We stay like that, wrapped in each other, letting the weight of the past settle between us before finally letting it go.

When Zane tilts my chin up, his eyes are glossy, his expression open in a way that unravels me completely.

Then, his lips find mine, and in that kiss, I feel everything—the years of friendship, the ache of lost time, the promise of forever.

Our kiss is a collision of pent-up emotions, hard and demanding at first. Zane groans when I bite his lip, his fingers threading deeper into my hair, pulling me closer. The tension between us snaps like a rubber band, and as my body softens against his, we melt into each other, losing ourselves in the moment.

The drive to Lancaster is quiet but not in a way that feels heavy. I don’t bother moving to the passenger seat. Instead, I stay tucked against his side, my head resting on his shoulder as he steers us toward Twisted Tap for our double date with Colter and Ava. The weight of our earlier conversation lingers, but something about Zane’s touch—the way his thumb absentmindedly strokes my knee— makes it feel a little lighter.

When we step out of his car, he doesn’t hesitate to reach for my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he leads me toward the entrance.

“I’m an idiot for not telling you this sooner,” Zane murmurs, catching the front door and holding it open for me. His gaze rakes over me, appreciation darkening his features. “You look incredible tonight.”

Heat licks up my spine at the way his voice dips.

“You’re lookin’ pretty damn irresistible yourself, Kinnick.”

His smile stretches wider, and before I can react, he swats me on the ass. I let out a startled laugh, shaking my head as we step inside.

Twisted Tap is packed, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses blending with the country song playing through the speakers.

My mom spots us the second we walk in, her sharp eyes catching the way Zane's arm stays securely around my waist as he guides me through the tables. We slide into a booth near the back, and within minutes, she’s weaving her way toward us, a knowing smile already playing on her lips.

She sets two glasses of ice water in front of us, leveling Zane with a raised brow. “I was starting to wonder if the two of you were ever gonna make it out tonight.” Her smirk deepens. “For a second, I thought my daughter moved back in with me, but she’s over at your place so often, you’d never know it.”

Zane presses his fist to his mouth, trying to hide his grin. “Yeah, uh… sorry about that, Mrs. Vaughn.”

“You’re forgiven,” she says, flicking her gaze between us. Her expression softens, and I know exactly what she’s thinking—how long it’s been since I’ve smiled like this, since before my dad passed. “What you can apologize for is not using the damn door for what it’s intended for.”

Zane chokes on his drink, sputtering as water sloshes over the rim of his glass.

Mom pats him on the back, her grin widening. “You all right there?”

I bite my lip, barely stifling my laugh, but before I can respond, a flash of movement catches my attention. Over her shoulder, I spot Ava bouncing toward us, her face beaming. Right behind her, Colter follows at a more measured pace, his broad frame making her look even smaller beside him. It’s hard not to think of Wreck-It Ralph and Vanellope when they stand next to each other.

Ava’s excitement draws my mom’s attention away from Zane’s near-death experience. She turns, arms open, pulling Ava into a hug that has Colter smirking.

Zane slides out of his seat, shifting next to me as Colter and Ava settle into the booth across from us.

“I’m so glad you suggested we come here tonight,” Ava says, practically glowing. “We haven’t been here in way too long.”

Mom tugs her notepad from her back pocket, nodding. “It’s not like you two haven’t had a packed schedule.”

Between Ava’s dance team, Colter’s football schedule, and their jobs, making time for each other is already a challenge. With the guys leaving for Texas soon, and the possibility of making it all the way to the championship, things will only get crazier. Tonight is one of the few moments we’ll have to sit back, breathe, and enjoy each other’s company.

And as Zane’s arm drapes over my shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against my skin, I know I wouldn’t want to spend it anywhere else.

The bar hums with the familiar buzz of conversation, the warm glow of overhead lights casting soft shadows across the wooden tables. Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders, her cheek pressing against my head.

“I have to admit,” she says, her voice gentle, filled with something that sounds like nostalgia. “I’ve been waiting for the day you two would finally see what’s been right in front of you.”

I freeze, my water glass hovering just short of my lips, momentarily forgetting about the sip I was about to take. But Zane, steady as ever, reaches beneath the table and gives my knee a reassuring squeeze. The touch anchors me, melting some of the tension in my spine.

“You and me both,” I admit, finally setting my glass down and glancing at Zane, whose smirk curves slow and knowing.

Mom studies the two of us, her expression softening into something more thoughtful. “And you’re happy?” she asks, looking between us.

I exhale, my shoulders easing. “Yeah,” I say, meaning it. “I really am.”

Her lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Good.”

Across the table, Colter scoffs. “That’s it? No grilling him? No threats?”

Mom and I arch a brow at him in perfect synchronization before she asks dryly, “Would you like me to?”

Ava, sitting beside him, barely smothers her laughter in her hand. Colter lifts his hands in surrender, leaning back against the booth.

Mom gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, then shifts her attention between Colter and me, her voice dipping into something softer. “Your dad would’ve been proud of you,” she murmurs. “Both of you.” Her gaze lingers on Colter. “And I think he’d be happy to see you both surrounded by good people.”

A lump rises in my throat, but I push past it, squeezing her hand in return. Her certainty settles something inside me, making breathing a little easier.

Mom’s smirk deepens, a knowing glint in her eye. “Now, about this game…” She folds her arms, leaning in slightly. “I’ll be there in the stands, loud as ever, and I expect you boys to light up that scoreboard. Colter, make sure that line holds strong. We need this win.”

Colter groans, tossing his head back. “Oh, come on. You’ve been talking to Coach again, haven’t you?”

Mom lifts a shoulder, feigning innocence. “Let’s just say I know how important your job is. Keep the quarterback upright, open up the run game—basically, don’t let the whole offense crumble.” She tilts her head, eyes twinkling. “Think you can handle that?”

Colter grins, draping an arm over Ava’s shoulders. “Always.”

Ava nudges him. “You better be because if anything happens to Beckham, Hallyn’s gonna be on your ass.”

I smirk. “Might as well add Zane to that list, too.”

Zane chuckles, shaking his head, while Colter lets out a dramatic sigh. “You all act like this is my first rodeo.”

Before anyone can fire back, Sully weaves through the tables, balancing a tray of shots. Mom doesn’t wait for an explanation. She plucks them off the tray and slides them across the table, flashing me a knowing wink.

Raising her glass, she grins. “Then go do it again.”

We clink our glasses together, the weight of what’s ahead settling between us. The game looms large—bigger than anything they’ve faced yet—but for now, none of that matters.

Right now, it’s just good food, easy laughter, and the quiet certainty that no matter what happens on the field, they’ll face it together.