Page 104 of The Hearts We Fumble
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?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Zane
Coach Frye: We need to talk. Can you meet me in my office in thirty minutes?
Colter’s jaw is tight, his eyes bouncing between Wyatt and me before settling on where my fingers are laced with hers.
“It’s Coach Frye,” I say, holding up my phone. “He wants to see me. Probably about my punishment.” My grip tightens around the device. “I gotta go.”
Wyatt follows as I stalk past Colter, my muscles strung tight with frustration. I need to get a handle on my temper before I talk to Coach, or I’ll only make this situation worse.
“So you’re just gonna walk away and not tell me what the hell is going on?” Colter calls after me. Then louder, sharper, he asks, “Are you two fuckin’?”
I stop cold.
Releasing Wyatt’s hand, I pivot, closing the distance between us in a blink. We’re nearly chest to chest, my pulse hammering in my ears.
“I don’t have time to sit here and explain things to you right now,” I bite out, keeping my voice measured despite the anger simmering beneath my skin. “But what I won’t tolerate is you disrespecting your sister. You want to try rephrasing that question, or are you gonna back the fuck off and let me deal with my shit first?”
Colter clenches his jaw. His nostrils flare. But after a beat, he nods once and steps back.
“We’ll talk later,” he says. “But wewilltalk about this.”
His gaze flicks to Wyatt, something unreadable crossing his face—maybe regret. Maybe something else. But I don’t stop to analyze it. I reach for Wyatt’s hand, and she grips my forearm with her other, anchoring me.
“C’mon,” she whispers, her voice a soothing balm against the heat in my chest.
I don’t look back as we turn toward my car.
