**Completed** Colby Byers and Wyatt Matheson shared an enviable love-at least, until that fateful day. Torn apart by tragedy, the stubborn ex-lovers struggle to come to terms with their desire for one another, while reconciling their feelings with t...
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**Colby Byers**
Colby
"His face..." I giggle, my head still spinning. I close my eyes, imagining Cole's pretty face right after Wyatt punched it.
Why did he punch it? Maybe he didn't...
...He definitely did. I think.
Wyatt looks at me with concern. How did I end up in his car? I can tell he's angry because his jaw is tight and his eyes are narrowed, focused on the twisting road in front of us. We've been driving for days now, and the way this road winds is making me even dizzier.
"You need to pull over," I warn when I notice the contents of my stomach dueling inside of me.
He ignores my request, still glowering at the unpaved back road that seemingly leads to eternity. I detect the bitter taste of bile creeping up the back of my throat, but swallow hard, hoping to prevent my dinner from reappearing. I think I'm ok...
"Dodge, we need to go back to the party," I pout, propping my hands under my cheek as I rest my head against the window. "Everyone misses me, I can feel it."
He chuckles quietly. I've missed his laugh.
My stomach growls audibly, and my insides churn. "Pull over," I say, reaching for the handle with one hand while my other clenches my raging belly. "Now."
"I'm not pulling over, and you're not going anywhere but home. Why don't you just go to sleep or something?" he suggests, annoyed. He locks the car doors, keeping a finger poised over the button just in case. He knows me too well, I suppose.
"Wyatt, I'm gonna—"
Before I can finish my sentence I clamp my hands over my mouth to stop the vomit from escaping, but it's useless. I glance up to find Wyatt covered in chunks, and it smells awful.
"You've got to be kidding me, Colby!" he shouts, pulling over. I'm relieved when he gets out of the car, 'cause the stench exits with him. I breathe in the fresh air gratefully.
I unlock my door, exiting the car. I stumble over to where Wyatt stands and trip in front of him, only to be caught by his strong arms and bare chest.
"You have puke in your hair," he says bluntly, guiding me back to the car. He settles me into the passenger's seat, crossing his body over mine to fasten my seatbelt. I take in his familiar scent and remember, briefly, all of the reasons being around him makes me ache.
"Stay put," he says sternly, shutting me into the car. He stalks around the front, taking a seat behind the wheel. Gravel shifts beneath the tires as we return to the deserted road.
"Where'd your shirt go?" I slur.
He turns to me, a single brow raised in question.
"I can't believe that prick did this to you," he mumbles. "You picked a real winner."
