Page 125 of The Hearts We Fumble
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.
Chapter Thirty-One
Zane
I’ve never been a fan of flying for away games. Something about being thousands of feet in the air—packed in with my teammates and knowing everything we’ve worked for comes down to the next few days—makes my skin itch.
We land in Texas late in the afternoon, three days before our playoff matchup against the Kolmont Kings. The undefeated powerhouse. The biggest threat standing between us and the championship. The weight of it sits heavy on my chest.
By the time we make it to the hotel, it’s nearly five. I’m grateful to be rooming with Reed. Out of all my teammates, he’s the least likely to piss me off before a big game. After checking in, we drop our bags, freshen up, and head downstairs for the team dinner. My stomach’s been in knots all day, but now that I’m here, exhaustion outweighs my nerves, and I shovel down my food without thinking.
Reed sticks around to bullshit with Beckham and Hayes, but I slip away as soon as I can. I haven’t talked to Wyatt much today, just a few texts between meetings and practice. I need to hear her voice.
Sliding onto my bed, I grab my iPad and hit FaceTime, anticipation curling in my stomach as the line rings.
When she answers, the camera is pointed at the ceiling.
“Baby,” I chuckle. “What are you doing?”
“Just got home from work,” she says, her voice warm and familiar. “I wasn’t expecting you to call this early. I was in the shower.”
My grin deepens. “Is that why I’m looking at your ceiling fan? Because you’re naked?”
She shifts, finally peeking into the frame, and my heart kicks against my ribs. Her curls are damp, clinging to her bare shoulders. She drags her lip between her teeth, and just like that, my mind nosedives into the gutter.
“You could always prop the phone up and let me see you,” I suggest, my voice dropping.
She laughs, shaking her head. “And let Reed hear us? No thanks. You’re not exactly quiet, Zane Anthony.”
The use of my full name makes me smirk.
“He’s still downstairs with the guys. That means now’s our only chance to be alone.”
Wyatt rolls her eyes but adjusts the phone. When she comes into view, she’s in a thin tank top—if you can even call it that. The fabric is so sheer I can see the outline of her nipples, her breasts spilling over the edge like she’s daring me to lose my mind.
“Jesus, Wyatt,” I mutter, my jaw tightening. “You couldn’t have warned me first?”
She glances down, feigning innocence. “What?” she asks, blinking up at me. “You don’t like my outfit?”
Her devious little smile tells me she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she says, twirling a damp curl around her finger.
I lean forward slightly, my pulse kicking up. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“I’ve been giving you space after the last game, you know, with the press conference and everything,” Wyatt says, her voice softer than usual.
She’s not looking at me. Instead, she focuses on her reflection in the mirror, spraying product into her hair, fingers threading through the strands to separate the curls. She’s trying to make this conversation feel casual, but I know her too well. I know where this is going.
I exhale, settling back against the pillow, bracing myself.
