Page 51 of The Hearts We Fumble
I’ve spent years convincing myself it wasn’t possible. That I couldn’t have her. That I shouldn’t want her. But the second I let myself give in, every excuse, every carefully constructed wall I’ve built crumbled around me. And now, the only thing that matters is her.
Wyatt.
I watch as she grabs her blanket from the car, weaving her way back to our friends with the kind of practiced ease that almost made me believe she wasn’t affected.
Except I catch the way her hands tremble slightly as she tucks the blanket around her shoulders. The way she fidgets with the hem, avoiding my eyes. And when she makes up some excuse about getting a phone call from her mom, I don’t call her on it—I just let her have the out.
By the time I come back outside with another drink for her, she’s settled back into her chair, laughing at something Tatum said.
I wasn’t sure if she wanted more jungle juice, but I wouldn’t let her drive home anyway. If she wants another drink, I’ll make sure she has one, and when the night ends, I’ll make sure she gets home safe.
When I hand her the cup, she tilts her head back against the chair and just… looks at me.
Like she’s seeing me for the first time.
The weight of her gaze sends something sharp and electric racing through my chest, tightening my grip around my beer bottle. I can feel Tatum watching too, flicking her gaze between us before finally clearing her throat.
“When you’re ready to leave, I’ll take you home,” I murmur. It’s not a question. We both know that.
Wyatt blinks once, then takes a slow sip of her drink. “Okay.”
We stay for another hour, long enough for the party to start winding down, for Hayes to disappear inside with Everly, and for Reed and Tatum to start making noises about heading in too.
Wyatt yawns, and her eyes flick to mine—just for a second, but it’s enough.
I don’t hesitate. “I’m gonna head out,” I announce, stretching like it’s just a casual decision. “You ready?”
She doesn’t argue. Just nods once before standing and tugging her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Colter barely notices as we left. He knows I only had one beer, and as far as he’s concerned, I’m doing him a favor by making sure Wyatt gets home safe.
If only he knew the truth.
The drive back is quiet, the road stretching dark and endless before us. My hand rests on her thigh, a quiet claim, a silent reassurance.
After a few minutes, she slides her hand over mine, threading our fingers together.
I exhale through my nose, tightening my grip.
The moment we pull into the driveway, I glance over at the main house. Empty. Myla is out of town in Tennessee for her game tomorrow, and Dad flew out after the Hornets matchup against the Bulls.
It’s just us.
And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like something I have to fight.
I didn’t watch the game, but I caught the score—Hornets took the win in overtime. Another victory, another step closer to the playoffs.
It doesn’t matter much to me right now. Not with Wyatt sitting beside me, her fingers still loosely curled around mine, her warmth seeping into my skin.
Pulling up in front of the guesthouse, I kill the engine and glance over at her. She’s watching me, waiting. There’s a quiet anticipation between us, heavy and unspoken.
“You wanna stay with me?” I murmur.
She doesn’t hesitate. Just gives a small nod, like she knows exactly what I’m asking and doesn’t need to think twice about it.
“All right then.” I smirk, pushing open my door. “Hang tight. I’ll get yours.”
I move around the car, and the second I open her door, her hand finds mine again, fingers lacing through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like we’ve always fit this way.
