Page 35

Zane

The green room was supposed to be comfortable, but I’d never felt more restless in my life.

Tension was thick, and the air inside the venue buzzed with anticipation. Cameras flashed with each name that had been called. Every few minutes, another player stood, another round of cheers erupted, another dream set in motion.

And still, I waited.

A gentle hand rested on my thigh, and I hadn’t even realized my leg was bouncing. Wyatt’s fingers tightened, grounding me. She looked gorgeous tonight—elegant but effortless, like she belonged here. But what hit me the most wasn’t the dress or the way her curls framed her face under the glow of the lights.

It was the way she kept sneaking glances at me like she knew exactly how fast my pulse was hammering.

I laced my fingers through hers, squeezing.

“You good?” she asked softly, her voice a quiet tether in the storm of noise around me.

I forced a grin. “Yeah. Just ready to get this over with.”

She didn’t buy my bullshit for a second.

“Did you hear the news?” Hayes’s voice cut through my anxious thoughts.

“About Knox?” Beckham asked, already knowing where this was going.

I forced myself to focus. “What news?”

“He entered the transfer portal,” Hayes said, shifting in his seat. “Word is he’s looking to transfer to Kolmont and play with the Kings.”

Kolmont was a hell of a good team. They were the ones who knocked us out of the playoffs.

“Damn,” Colter muttered, shaking his head. “I knew he wasn’t happy that Coach Frye wasn’t playing him after his injury, but I didn’t think he’d actually leave.”

“Yeah,” Beckham added. “And since he’s got another year of eligibility, he might stick around for two.”

I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face. Knox would be a senior next year, and there was no doubt in my mind he was already planning his path to the draft. Once he was back on the field, he’d pick up right where he left off—hungry, determined, and ready to prove himself.

Still, I understood how it felt—being benched, watching from the sidelines, feeling like your shot was slipping away. It was one of the hardest things I had to deal with last season, missing games first because of my hamstring injury, then because of my suspension.

Yet, here I was, still waiting.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Luca sitting a few tables over, his expression steady—like a silent reminder to keep my head up. A year ago, we were rivals. Enemies. Now, we were slowly working toward putting the past behind us, trying to find some kind of footing as brothers—something I never thought possible after everything that had happened.

I wasn’t sure where he’d end up, but who knows? Maybe one day, we’d wear the same jersey, giving us the chance to keep building on what we’ve started.

Beckham, Hayes, and Colter had already gotten their moments. They didn’t have to stay at the table, but they did. Silent support. Brotherhood.

I was proud of them—watching each of them stand, hug their families, shake hands with the commissioner, and walk across that damn stage. First Beckham, then Colter, then Hayes.

And still, I waited.

With each passing second, the whispers in my head grew louder. What if you don’t get called? What if you slip further? What if—

Wyatt’s grip tightened. I turned to her, and her eyes—steady, unwavering—held me in place. “Z, you know this doesn’t change anything, right? No matter when they call your name?”

Not if . When.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I know.”

And then my phone lit up.

A single vibration. One name on the screen.

San Francisco.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I stared at the screen for a beat before answering, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

A deep voice rumbled on the other end. “Zane, how do you feel about moving out West and playing with the Niners?”

My eyes shut for a second, exhaling the weight of every doubt, every second of waiting, every goddamn ounce of impatience.

When I opened them, I found Wyatt staring at me. She must’ve known exactly what was happening because her lips were already curving into a smile big enough to break me.

I let out a slow breath, my lips curving upward. “I feel ready as hell.”

The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur.

The moment I hung up, Wyatt let out a little squeal, launching herself into my arms, her laughter ringing in my ears. My mom and Miles were suddenly there, my mom holding my face between her hands like she wasn’t about to cry. My brother clapping me on the back, telling me how damn proud he was of me.

And Luca? He caught my eye from across the room and gave me a small nod. Not big. Not over the top. But it meant something.

And then—

“With the twenty-eighth pick in the 2025 NFL Draft, San Francisco selects… Zane Kinnick, wide receiver, Braysen University.”

The room exploded with noise. The crowd roared. The moment I’d been waiting for—the moment I’d been chasing since I was a kid—was happening.

I sucked in a breath, standing as hands clapped my back, voices called my name, and cameras flashed in my direction.

I turned to Wyatt, the only person I wanted to see at this moment, and leaned down, brushing my lips against hers in a quick kiss that I knew would be all over ESPN before midnight.

But I didn’t care.

Because the only thing that mattered was I got here, and I earned this.

My name.

The team.

The moment.

And knowing that no matter where I played, Wyatt would always be by my side.

* * *

Thank you for reading The Hearts We Fumble!