Page 123 of The Hearts We Fumble
I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”
Zane holds my stare, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know.”
He reaches between us, his fingers threading through mine, grounding me with his touch. He lifts our joined hands and presses a lingering kiss to the back of mine, his lips warm, reverent.
“I’m glad everything worked out the way it has,” he murmurs, his voice low but certain.
I swallow, breaking eye contact as I shift in my seat. The weight of his words settles between us, thick and heavy with everything left unsaid.
Zane doesn’t let me retreat into silence. “I know it took me too long to get here, Wy. I hate that I made you wait—that I kept pushing you away when all I wanted was to pull you closer.”
I lift my gaze, my brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”
He exhales, running his free hand through his hair before shaking his head. “I wasn’t ready. I told myself I couldn’t love you the way you deserved. And as much as I hate admitting it, you walking away—forcing me to see that you weren’t going to put up with it, the way my mom always did—is what woke me up.”
A knot twists in my stomach.
Zane’s jaw tenses, his grip on my hand tightening. “I hate myself for hurting you. I let myself believe you’d always be there, that I could keep you at arm’s length and still have you. But I see now that I wasn’t just keeping you from getting too close. I was keeping myself from feeling it, too.”
I shake my head, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Zane, we’ve talked about this. We’re past that time now.”
“I still need to say this, okay? Please, just let me.” His voice is raw, pleading.
I press my lips together and nod.
He exhales slowly, gathering his thoughts. “The night at the party—the way you looked at me when you saw me with that girl—I fucking hated myself for it. Hated that I was the reason for that look in your eyes. And then, when I saw you with Luca…” His throat bobs as he swallows. “It wrecked me. But it wasn’t just about that. I spent my whole life fighting to prove I wasn’t like him. That I could make it to the league on my own, that I wasn’t just James Kinnick’s son. But when I saw what I’d done to you, I realized I was more like him than I ever wanted to admit.”
His words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.
Zane squeezes my hand, his grip firm, as if holding on to me is the only thing keeping him tethered. “I’m sorry, Wy. For every way I hurt you. For every time I made you doubt how much you meant to me.” His voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Tears blur my vision, my throat tightening painfully. Before I can think, before I can speak, I’m moving—sliding across the seat and into his arms.
Zane exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath, and wraps me in his embrace, pressing me into the solid warmth of his chest. His fingers weave through my hair, smoothing it back, and I press my face into him, inhaling the familiar, steadying scent of him. His heartbeat is strong beneath my ear, a slow, rhythmic thump grounding me in the moment.
We stay like that, wrapped in each other, letting the weight of the past settle between us before finally letting it go.
When Zane tilts my chin up, his eyes are glossy, his expression open in a way that unravels me completely.
Then, his lips find mine, and in that kiss, I feel everything—the years of friendship, the ache of lost time, the promise of forever.
Our kiss is a collision of pent-up emotions, hard and demanding at first. Zane groans when I bite his lip, his fingers threading deeper into my hair, pulling me closer. The tension between us snaps like a rubber band, and as my body softens against his, we melt into each other, losing ourselves in the moment.
The drive to Lancaster is quiet but not in a way that feels heavy. I don’t bother moving to the passenger seat. Instead, I stay tucked against his side, my head resting on his shoulder as he steers us toward Twisted Tap for our double date with Colter and Ava. The weight of our earlier conversation lingers, but something about Zane’s touch—the way his thumb absentmindedly strokes my knee— makes it feel a little lighter.
When we step out of his car, he doesn’t hesitate to reach for my hand, threading his fingers through mine as he leads me toward the entrance.
“I’m an idiot for not telling you this sooner,” Zane murmurs, catching the front door and holding it open for me. His gaze rakes over me, appreciation darkening his features. “You look incredible tonight.”
Heat licks up my spine at the way his voice dips.
“You’re lookin’ pretty damn irresistible yourself, Kinnick.”
His smile stretches wider, and before I can react, he swats me on the ass. I let out a startled laugh, shaking my head as we step inside.
Twisted Tap is packed, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses blending with the country song playing through the speakers.
My mom spots us the second we walk in, her sharp eyes catching the way Zane's arm stays securely around my waist as he guides me through the tables. We slide into a booth near the back, and within minutes, she’s weaving her way toward us, a knowing smile already playing on her lips.
