Page 90 of The Hearts We Fumble
Colter and Beckham are still sitting near their lockers when I walk in. Most of the guys are already out on the field, which means they probably left before Coach started tearing into me.
Beckham looks up first. “What’d he say?”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face. “Still waiting to find out my punishment. Hoping he’ll take it easy on me, but I guess we’ll see.”
Colter studies me for a beat but doesn’t say anything. I can tell he’s debating whether to ask more, but he knows better.
Shoving the thoughts aside, I strip down and throw on my practice gear. My ribs are killing me, but I’m pretty sure it’s just bruising. Nothing broken. It’ll be sore, but nothing I can’t push through.
The minute I step onto the field, I know one thing for damn sure—whatever punishment Coach decides, I’m going to have to earn my place back.
Coach doesn’t take it easy on me during practice.
If anything, he pushes me harder, like he’s making an example out of me—not just for the fight, but for the fact that two of his best players were involved. I don’t know if he’s had words with Reed or Colter yet, but from the way they’ve avoided eye contact all morning, I’m guessing they got off easier than I did.
By the time practice ends, my body aches, my ribs are screaming, and my knuckles throb like hell, but I push through it. After a quick shower, I clean up and head home, hoping to catch Wyatt before she leaves for class.
She’s already waiting for me.
Standing in my driveway, arms crossed, she’s biting her lip like she’s debating how to approach me.
The second I throw the car into park, she moves around the side, waiting as I open the door.
She doesn’t have to say anything. I already know she’s seen the videos. The worry in her eyes, the tight pull of her brows—it’s all the confirmation I need.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice small. “I tried to pull some strings in my journalism class and kill the school article, but I—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “Doesn’t matter. Every reporter in the country is already running with it. Even if you buried one article, ten more would pop up in its place.”
Her lips press together, like she still wishes she could’ve done something. But there’s nothing either of us can do now.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. The moment her body molds to mine, she slides her hands under my jacket, her nails dragging lightly up my back. Soothing. Grounding.
For the first time today, I let myself breathe.
“C’mon,” I murmur. “Let’s go inside.”
She stays tucked against me as we walk in, and the second the door closes, she turns into me again.
I reach up, brushing her hair away from her face, letting my fingers sink into the strands as I tilt her head back. Her soft brown eyes lock onto mine, full of concern, and it hits me like a punch to the chest.
I haven’t even checked my phone yet. Haven’t heard from my dad, but I know it’s coming. Either a call or a plane ticket home from Charlotte to rip into me in person.
But right now? None of that matters.
Not with Wyatt looking at me like this. Like I’m more than the mistakes I’ve made. Like I’m worth something, no matter how messy shit gets.
She’s always seen me that way. Maybe that’s why I pushed her away for so long.
I don’t think. I just feel.
Leaning in, I capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss.
She hums, her fingers curling into my shirt, holding me to her like she needs this just as much as I do. When her tongue flicks along the seam of my mouth, I groan, parting for her, letting her take whatever she wants from me.
God, I love getting lost in her.
I hadn’t realized until now just how much I needed her here. How everything feels more manageable with her by my side.
