Page 4 of The Hearts We Fumble
Colter has always been protective of me. When we were younger, my friends thought it was sweet—like something out of an older-brother-of-the-year playbook. But the older I got, the more it grated on my nerves.
Because his version of looking out for me has changed over the years.
Back then, it was comforting—him taking care of me, stepping into the role our father left behind when he passed. Now? Now it’s scrutiny. Judgment wrapped in a watchful gaze, like he’s constantly waiting for me to screw up.
Colter is everything I’m not. Calm. Level-headed. Stoic to a fault. His emotions are locked down so tightly you’d think they don’t exist. Meanwhile, mine are impossible to hide.
I wear my thoughts on my face and speak before I think—two things that have landed me in trouble more times than I can count.
Pair that with my stubborn streak, and, well… you can guess how that’s worked out for me.
I drag a hand through my tangled hair, groaning as I pull my sunglasses from my bag. But just as I go to slide them on—
“Wyatt!”
I freeze.
That voice. I know that voice.
I’ve heard it a thousand times—some of which have been the highlight of one too many of my fantasies.
Give it a rest, Wy. Zane Kinnick will never see you as more than a kid sister.
That’s not what makes my stomach drop, though. It’s the fact that I’m miles from home—a whole state away from where I’m supposed to be.
In Eagle territory.
I swear under my breath.
“You gonna just stand there, or you gonna turn around?”
His gravelly voice cuts through the early morning stillness like a blade.
For a split second, I consider booking it—pretending I didn’t hear him, keeping my head down, and walking straight to the bus stop.
I almost regret not taking Luca up on his offer to drive me home.Almost.
Slowly, I turn. “What the hell are you doing in Keaton?” he barks.
I hold up a hand, wincing. “Why the heck are you yelling?” I glance around. “It’s too early for this.”
“Don’t ignore my question.”
I arch a brow. “I could ask you the same thing. Why are you in Keaton? Isn’t this like crossing over into enemy territory? Did you get permission from your wolf pack?”
His jaw tightens. “Will you stop turning this around on me and answer the damn question?”
I exhale loudly, dragging it out on purpose, and turn on my heel. I trudge toward the bench at the corner, acting like I don’t care that he’s still standing there, watching me.
Except—
His footsteps follow.
Loud, deliberate thumps against the pavement, each one like a crack of thunder behind me.
I don’t give in to him.
Not now. Not anymore.
