**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
For the first time in a long time, I'm not playing a game. Instead of thinking through the many excuses I could use to justify being here I just...came. No pretense, no expectation. Quite simply, it's the only place I want to be.
I feel a little guilty for ditching Cole, but I know he'll still have fun regardless. Believe it or not, we only went as friends. Taking things slowly, I guess you could say. It's a good thing too, it seems, seeing as I ended up here on Wyatt's bed instead of in Cole's arms...
We've been sitting here for hours now watching my favorite series, The Twilight Saga. Surprisingly enough, Wyatt hasn't complained a single time. It hasn't been a wisecrack-free viewing experience, but it's a far cry from the last time we did this. Our previous Twilight marathon had him on his knees, begging me to poke his eyes out with a cattle prod and jam corn cobs in his ears to put him out of his misery. I smile at the memory. Things were so easy then.
I tuck myself closer to Wyatt, resting my head on his broad shoulder. He slides his arm up from behind my back, pulling me in and wrapping me in his strong hold as we watch Jacob shift in front of Bella for the first time.
Everything about this feels right.
I yawn and he squeezes my shoulder gently, leaning away slightly to look at me.
"If Bella's putting you to sleep, which wouldn't shock me at all, I can drive you home," he says, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
"You wish," I reply, jabbing my finger into his chest. I settle myself against him, hoping he won't pull away. "We're just getting started."
"Don't I know it," he says, his laughter tickling my temple. He moves his hand up the back of my neck and into my hair, mindlessly running his long fingers through the curled strands.
Maybe being here like this comes as naturally to him as it does to me. I sigh, contentedly lost in the familiarity of his touch. Bless you, Hollywood, for stretching this love triangle into five movies...
Wyatt inhales deeply, releasing it slowly. No. No, no, no. That always means he's about to ruin a moment. I stiffen automatically, bracing for whatever's coming next.
"Why'd you leave homecoming, B?" he asks. "You love that stuff."
My heart aches. I want to tell him everything that happened. I want to tell him that all I want in this world is to have him back, but the words won't form on my lips. Whether it's because I'm afraid of what he'll think of me, or because I'm anxious he no longer shares my feelings, I can't say.
"Ow!" I yelp.
"Oh, damn, I'm sorry..." Wyatt says when his fingers unwittingly yank my hair.
Some strands have coiled themselves tightly around the delicate silver chain I never remove from my neck. Wyatt examines it more closely, momentarily distracted from his question.
I'm relieved by the change of focus as he busies himself with loosening my tangles from the thin chain until I remember that at the end of it is a piece of my soul that I can't let go of— the piece of Wyatt and our history that nobody else can have.
Wyatt tugs gently at the long sterling chain, and I feel a flush washing over my cheeks. He slowly draws the necklace from where it's been resting next to my heart.
I turn to face him, clutching at the end of the necklace before he can see what's attached to it. Tears instantly threaten to escape, but this time I won't try to stop them.
"What is it?" Wyatt asks, worry flaring in his eyes. "I didn't mean to— I just always wondered what it was."
I pull the remainder of the necklace from under my borrowed shirt, and a coy smile splits his lips, easing away his previously troubled features.
"I always wear it," I confess, averting my eyes. I'm not sure why it makes me feel so embarrassed.
"I thought you got rid of it," he says quietly as he regards the promise ring he'd given me so long ago. He places his palm on my cheek, wiping a fallen tear away with the pad of his thumb.
"A promise is a promise, Dodge," I say, smiling sadly. I've never felt more exposed. And yet, it's not uncomfortable. I perceive no judgment, only genuine concern.
I know he deserves the answer to his question.
I take his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. Wyatt has always been my best friend, and as much as I've tried to deny it since we ended, he still is.
"I left homecoming because Trey showed up," I say, my traitorous voice cracking.
Wyatt doesn't respond, waiting patiently for me to muster the courage to continue. I take a deep breath, my eyes falling closed. When I open them, the distress on Wyatt's handsome face pains me to my core.
He still cares. Maybe he still loves...
"You know how I quit drinking?" I continue, and he nods. "Well, the last time I drank I was hanging out with Trey."
Wyatt's hand instantly tenses in mine, but he doesn't speak, giving me the space I need to continue.
"He, um... Well, we drank too much, and I was kind of into him. I knew he was interested, and I think the alcohol..." I trail off as the shame I've felt for so long flows painfully from my lips. I'm trembling, unprepared for the effects of this difficult admission, when Wyatt pulls me into his embrace.
"Colby, did he—"
"No," I interrupt, sniffling. "I slept with him, Wyatt." Another round of vicious sobs wracks my body. "I should've said no." I burrow my tear stained face into his shoulder, his shirt already damp from my outburst. I've never told anyone before, not even Wynn. I sense the fury rising in him through the tension in his hold.
"Did he hurt you?" he asks, the danger in his tone unmistakable. His body grows more rigid with each intake of breath.
"He didn't," I whisper. "I just wish we had stopped. He should never have been my first, Wyatt. I regret it so deeply, it hurts. I knew it was a mistake even when it was happening, but I just... let it happen."
"I know who you are, B," Wyatt says fervently.
Those six little words are all it takes for the healing relief to begin. A confession—to my best friend. He pulls me closer, and I curl into the warmth of his firm body gratefully.
"You'd best pray for Trey, though," he says. When I glance up at his face, he's smiling, but I see the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"Wyatt..."
"I'm just kiddin'. Are you alright?" he asks, running his hand up the length of my arm and back, his touch light and soothing.
"I will be," I say, and I think it may actually be true, too.
I begin to drift off to sleep, listening to the steady beat of Wyatt's heart. Refusing to think about Trey, refusing to process my mistakes with him—it was eating me alive. I feel more at peace than I have in years, having unloaded the secret burden that's been weighing me down with remorse. I've been unwilling to forgive myself for too long, but I may finally be ready to work on that.
And while I can't ever change the error of my past, the sincerity in the exchange between Wyatt and me eases my heartache. I'm reminded of how we were together—authentic and whole.
