Page 30 of The Hearts We Fumble
She meets my gaze, jaw clenched, fire burning beneath the surface.
“Yes. We are.”
And then she’s gone, storming past Tatum, her boots hitting the floor hard, like she’s stomping me right out of her life.
Tatum lingers, turning toward me with a look I don’t like—not pity, but disappointment.
And something worse—understanding.
“I don’t know what happened between you two,” she says carefully, her voice softer now. “She still won’t tell me. But whatever it was, you hurt her.”
I don’t flinch, don’t react, but she doesn’t need me to. She knows I already carry the weight of it.
“And maybe I’m wrong,” she continues, “but something tells me it’s not just about the past. It’s about what you both want… and realizing those two things don’t match up.”
I hold her gaze but say nothing. If Wyatt hasn’t told her, it’s not my place to spill.
Tatum sighs, glancing in the direction Wyatt disappeared.
“She’s hurting, Zane. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about her, it’s that you have to be careful pushing her too much.”
She pauses, as if weighing whether to say more.
Then she does.
“She builds walls to protect herself, but that also means she’s really good at keeping people out. And I don’t think that’s what you want.”
The words land exactly where she wants them to.
She’s right. I don’t want Wyatt to shut me out. I don’t know how to stop it from happening either.
Tatum gives me a small, knowing smile, clapping a hand on my shoulder as she moves to pass.
“It’s your birthday, Zane. You should be enjoying it with your friends.”
She squeezes once before stepping around me.
“Let it go for tonight. Whatever’s between you two… it can wait.”
She disappears into the bar, leaving me standing in the hallway, watching the spot where Wyatt just was.
The problem is, Tatum doesn’t understand what this night means to me.
Wyatt and I have always ended my birthday together.
She was the one constant, the one person I always wanted to close out the night with.
And now?
This is the second year in a row I don’t have her.
I lift my beer to my lips, but it doesn’t taste the same.
Because the truth is, I don’t feel like celebrating at all.
Not without her.
Chapter Eight
