Pure adrenaline and tequila flow through my veins and I lose myself in him. I don’t care that we are in the middle of the bar. I don’t care about the rules. This feels too good.
“Oh, thank God.” Emmett breathes a sigh of relief. “I don’t know how much longer I could have kept that a secret.”
I laugh weakly, but then I feel Lane’s arms slide around me again, and my gaze instinctively flicks toward Wesley.
He’s standing off to the side, gripping his beer bottle so tightly his knuckles are white as his eyes burn into me.
“You knew?” His deep voice cuts into the chattering conversations, dousing me like a bucket of ice water. He tears his gaze away from me, shifting to Emmett.
“Yup.” Emmett laughs. “Accidentally walked in on them playing tonsil hockey in the barn when you sent me on that witch hunt for the stupid green bucket.”
Wesley’s eyes sweep the group. “Who else knows?”
Landon speaks up first. “I did. But you knew that.”
“Um, Isuspectedsomething was going on,“ Lydia adds. “So fuck you guys for not telling me.”
Emmett raises his hands. “Don’t come at me. I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Does my dad know?” Wesley asks. This time, his eyes are on me. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t care what he thinks. But I do.
Lane wraps his arms around me tighter, wordlessly reminding me I’m not alone.
I lift my chin. “We’re telling Heath tomorrow.”
Wesley scoffs. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?”
“I didn’t plan any of this. It just…happened. I’m trying to do the right thing now.”
Lane’s thumb draws slow, steady circles over my hip, anchoring me in place.
“Yeah,” Wesley says, bitter. “You’re a regular Mother Teresa.”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Lane’s voice cuts in as he steps forward.
But Wesley doesn’t even look at him, his gaze still fixed on me. There’s a tiny glimmer of emotion there.
It’s not hatred—it’s something much worse.
Something like longing and regret.
I thought he pushed me away because he didn’t want me. But now, I see how wrong I was. I see the truth hidden in the way his jaw flexes, in the crack in his mask when he looks at me like that.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It’s that hedid.
And now, it’s too late.
He pushed me away, and Lane pulled me in. And maybe this is exactly how it was supposed to go. Maybe I’m where I belong. With Lane.
But somewhere beneath all of that, something inside me still stings.
Because I think Wesley wanted me, too.
And maybe, in some small, selfish way, I wish he’d fought harder.
Now, it’s so much more than just breaking the rules. This only ends with someone’s heart being broken.
Lane drops his mouth to right above my ear, tightening his grip on my hips. “You ready to get outta here,almostbirthday girl?”
