Page 137 of The Hearts We Fumble
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.
Epilogue
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.
