Page 34

Wyatt

News of the divorce broke the morning after the game against the Kings.

Zane was already beating himself up over how he played, but the headlines didn’t help. The media ran with the story, spinning theories that the drama at home had gotten in his head, throwing him off during one of the biggest games of his life. If he saw the articles, he never said a word, but I knew him well enough to see the way it ate at him.

After that, the last few months of the semester flew by. Maybe it was just in my head, but it felt like I blinked, and suddenly, April was here.

This month is packed—the NFL draft being the most significant. But first comes my birthday, immediately followed by the anniversary of my dad’s death.

This is the first year since he passed that the date snuck up on me. I owe a lot of that to Zane. Being with him keeps me from spiraling into my own thoughts.

“You look beautiful.”

Zane’s voice is deep and steady, a warm weight against my back. I meet his gaze in the mirror and smile.

The early spring heat in South Carolina lingers like a midsummer day, the kind that makes my dress cling to my skin and leaves the air thick with sunshine.

Zane steps closer, his hands slipping around my waist as he turns me in his arms, pressing me against his chest. His lips graze my bare shoulder, slow and unhurried, trailing a path toward my ear, where he nips at my earlobe.

“You ready to go?”

I sigh, tilting my head to give him better access. “If you keep that up, I will be.”

His low chuckle rumbles against my skin, sending a shiver through me.

“That’s not what I meant,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over my jaw, “but if you’d rather skip lunch, I wouldn’t mind having you instead.”

A sharp inhale escapes me, and Zane smirks, stealing a kiss before pulling away and grabbing my hand.

We’d planned to have lunch at Rosey’s—a place that used to be my regular spot with Tatum, though it’s been a while since I last went. So much has changed in the past six months that some days, I barely recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror.

That’s a good thing, too.

After lunch, I’m caught up in my thoughts, barely registering the drive—until I recognize the familiar street. My brows knit together as Zane pulls into our neighborhood, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

I glance over at him, but he says nothing, his expression unreadable as he parks and steps out, circling to my side.

When he reaches for my hand, I almost expect him to lead me inside the guesthouse, maybe to finish what I tried to start before lunch. But instead, he guides me past it, toward the backyard.

“What are we doing?” I ask, watching him with suspicion. “I thought you had a date planned?”

Zane only winks, pulling open the wooden gate and motioning for me to step inside first.

I don’t even have time to process what’s happening before a loud chorus of voices shouts, “SURPRISE!”

I startle so hard I nearly jump into Zane’s arms. He chuckles, looping his arm around my waist, steadying me as my wide eyes take in the backyard.

A crowd of familiar faces beams back at me, the energy electric. Streamers sway in the breeze, a long table is set with food, and a “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banner hangs over the patio.

My hand flies to my mouth. Zane squeezes my waist, his lips brushing my temple.

“Happy birthday, firecracker.”

Leaning my head back against Zane’s chest, I peer up at him.

I turn to Zane, my voice caught somewhere between disbelief and gratitude. “Did you do this?”

His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “I mean… I might’ve had a little help.”

From the crowd, Tatum chimes in, “It was Everly and me, too.”

I finally take a proper look around, my gaze sweeping over the familiar faces gathered in the backyard. It’s not just our close group of friends—I spot both of our moms standing near the patio, deep in conversation, Myla beside them. Colter and Ava linger nearby, and off to the side, almost like he’s debating whether he should be here, stands Zane’s older brother, Miles.

That alone surprises me. With the NBA playoffs in full swing, I have no idea how he managed to slip away from Miami to be here today.

Laughter and conversation buzz around me as we move through the group, exchanging hugs and teasing remarks. Everyone is dressed in swimsuits, the scent of sunscreen and chlorine mixing with the warm breeze. Music drifts from the speakers on the patio, and the pool glistens under the afternoon sun, a few of the guys already lounging in the water with drinks in hand.

Tatum steps in front of me, holding out a bag. “Here. Zane made sure you had a swimsuit.”

Lifting a brow, I glance over my shoulder at him. “Oh, did he now?” I smirk, turning back to the bag. “Let me guess—did he go for something in that same cotton-candy color?”

Zane’s eyes darken slightly, and I know exactly where his mind has gone. Months ago, he told me about the first time he saw me in a two-piece—how it nearly wrecked him.

Leaning in, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss against my temple. “Careful, firecracker. Keep running that mouth, and I’ll take you inside and swap that suit for one of my T-shirts and a pair of gym shorts instead.”

I shake my head, a warmth spreading through my chest. He really thought of everything. The effort, the planning, the way he went out of his way to make today special—it’s more than I ever expected. More than I ever let myself hope for.

Turning back to Zane, I meet his gaze, my heart squeezing at the quiet pride in his expression. He shrugs like it’s nothing, like this wasn’t the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me in a long time. But it is. And he knows it too.

Especially since my birthday hasn’t felt like much of a celebration in years.

“How did you manage to pull all this off without me catching on?” I ask, my gaze shifting to Zane as I try to process the effort it must’ve taken.

He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, but there’s pride in his eyes. “Took some planning. But seeing that smile on your face? Worth every second.”

Before I can say more, Colter and Ava step forward. My brother wraps me in a hug, his embrace warm, steady, and for the briefest moment, it feels like we’re kids again—before everything changed.

“Happy birthday, sis,” he murmurs.

When he steps back, Ava takes his place, and as she moves in to hug me, I catch the glint of the ring on her finger. A promise ring. I swallow against the unexpected emotion tightening my throat. Colter gave it to her before they spent the year apart—his way of showing her that he wasn't going anywhere, no matter the distance.

It hits me all at once.

This could be the last time we’re all together like this. The guys will soon be scattered across the country, drafted to different teams, starting new lives. I’ll be going with Zane, wherever he ends up, but the rest of us will be left figuring out how to navigate what comes next—how to hold on to the friendships we built in the place that shaped us.

Ava hugs me tighter. “Happy birthday, Wy,” she says softly.

I close my eyes briefly, breathing it all in. Today isn’t just a birthday—it’s a moment in time I’ll never get back. A reminder of how much has changed and how fleeting it all is before everything shifts again.

After rounds of hugs from Everly, Tatum, and Hallyn, I slip inside to change into my swimsuit.

Zane is sitting at the edge of his bed when I step out of the bathroom. He doesn’t notice me at first, his head tipped down. But when the door clicks shut, his eyes jerk up, locking onto me like I just knocked the wind out of him.

“Jesus.” His voice is reverent, his gaze trailing over my body like he’s committing every inch to memory.

Heat sparks in my stomach. I’ll never get tired of the way he looks at me.

I don’t move as he pushes himself to his feet, closing the space between us in slow, deliberate steps like he’s savoring the anticipation.

“How long do you think we could get away before they come looking for us?” His voice is barely a whisper, rough with desire.

I glance past him, across the bed, and out the sliding glass doors leading to the patio. The windows reflect like mirrors at this time of day—no one outside can see in. But as Zane’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him, the heat pooling low in my stomach almost has me believing they could.

“Not long,” I murmur. “Tatum and Everly will come for me if we take too long.”

Zane chuckles, his breath warm against my skin. “True.” His lips graze my neck. “Guess I’ll have to be quick.”

His fingers link with mine, and just as I open my mouth to ask what exactly he means, he nudges my legs apart with his knee.

“Zane?” I start, but then his palm presses against my lower back, guiding me forward until my hands meet the mattress.

My breath catches.

One second, he’s behind me, his body flush against mine. The next, he’s kneeling, and I feel the slow drag of his breath against the bare skin between my thighs.

“Have I told you how much I love these curves?” His voice is a mix of teasing and worship, his fingers skimming the fabric of my sarong.

I moan in response, unable to form words, let alone a coherent thought.

“Wyatt?” he prompts when I don’t answer.

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless.

Zane’s fingers trace up my thighs, untying the knot at my hip. The material flutters to the floor. Then, with a slow, torturous slide, he tugs the bottom of my swimsuit aside. The first flick of his tongue against my heated skin nearly has my knees buckling.

His grip tightens, keeping me steady.

“We’re gonna have to make this quick, baby,” he murmurs against me, his voice dark with need. “I don’t want anyone interrupting us. But after seeing you in this thing you try calling a swimsuit?” He groans, his fingers digging into my hips. “I can’t wait another second.”

And then, my thoughts scatter completely.

I let out a breathy chuckle, but it’s cut off the moment his tongue flicks against my clit, sending a shiver down my spine. His mouth trails lower, lips and tongue working in tandem as he teases, tasting every inch of me. When he sinks inside, I moan, my fingers clenching the sheets.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice thick with need. My eyes flutter shut as I focus on nothing but the sensation of him, the way his mouth moves, the heat of his breath against my core.

A finger glides into me, slow and deliberate, coaxing me open. Then another, stretching me just enough to drive me insane. My hips rock in sync with his movements, seeking more, needing more. The unmistakable sound of his fist working himself behind me has my pulse spiking.

I’m right there, seconds from begging, when he pushes himself to stand, the loss of his mouth making me whimper. But then I feel it—his tip teasing at my entrance, sending another wave of need rolling through me.

“Hold on, Wyatt,” he mutters, gathering my hair in his fist, his body looming over mine.

His chest brushes against my back as he leans in, his breath hot against my ear. I tilt my head slightly, meeting his dark, hungry gaze. He smirks, his voice a low growl.

“Hold on tight, baby, because this will be fast and deep. And when you walk back out there, you’re still going to feel me—every inch, every thrust—with my cum coating these pretty thighs.”

A strangled moan escapes me.

He tugs my hair, waiting. My scalp prickles and my stomach tightens.

“You ready?”

I nod.

No warning. No slow buildup. He drives into me in one deep, punishing thrust.

I gasp, my legs nearly giving out, but he’s already there, his hands gripping my waist, holding me steady as he pulls out and drives into me again. The sharp slap of our bodies meeting echoes through the room, each deep stroke unraveling me, sending another shock wave of pleasure through my core.

His grip on my hair loosens, and his arm slides around my front. His hand slips under my bikini top, fingers teasing my nipple until I arch into him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice wrecked.

Without warning, he flips me onto my back, hovering over me. His gaze is molten as he drags his eyes over every inch of my body, his chest rising and falling in quick, heavy breaths.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Wyatt.”

Then he’s inside me again, thrusting deep, hard, relentless. My nails dig into his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

And when we finally unravel, when pleasure overtakes us, it’s a slow descent into something deeper, something more than just the physical.

Zane stays inside me for a moment with his forehead pressed against mine as our ragged breaths mingle. Then, slowly, he eases out, helping me sit up. Kneeling in front of me, he carefully slides my swimsuit bottoms back into place and secures my sarong around my waist.

But he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he pushes up against the wall, his fingers trailing lightly over my bare skin, sending a new rush of heat through me.

“Happy birthday, firecracker,” he murmurs, his lips grazing mine.

I smile, breathless. “You already said that.”

“Yeah?” His mouth curves wickedly as he brushes his lips down my jaw, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Then let me say it again.”

His kiss is slow, devastating. The kind that melts me and makes me want to drag him down on top of me all over again.

I tug at his shirt, needing him closer. He groans when I arch into his chest, when my nails scrape down his back, his hands gripping my thighs as he lifts me against the wall.

“Zane,” I whisper, and the way he looks at me—like I’m his entire world—makes my heart feel like it’s bursting from my chest.

This—him—us.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

And when he rests his forehead against mine, his breath shuddering, I know he feels it too.

Zane’s voice is rough, edged with something unshakable. “There’s no version of my future that doesn’t have you in it, Wyatt. This thing we have, it’s forever to me.”

Emotion swells in my throat. My fingers tighten around the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve known you were my forever since the day I met you; when I moved in next door.”

His lips crash into mine, sealing the promise between us.

And at this moment, in his arms, on the night I turn another year older, I know one thing for certain.

Loving Zane Kinnick?

It’s the best damn gift I could ever ask for.