**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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Wyatt
"Thanks for staying," Colby whispers, her head resting on the curve of my shoulder. She'd been quiet for so long, I thought she might have fallen asleep.
"Where else would I be?" I say quietly. I turn my head slightly, kissing the top of hers. She squeezes my hand in response, tucking herself nearer to me. I draped my grey wool coat over her like a blanket, and she's curled up underneath it, resting as comfortably as is possible against my side.
I glance around the waiting room, stifling a yawn. Luke turned two chairs together front to front, settling himself into the makeshift bed. His head sags, lying on his chest at an angle that looks painful to me. Though his eyes are closed, I can tell he's still awake, the set of his folded arms and shoulders too stiff for slumber.
Next to him is my good buddy Cliff, who hasn't taken his disdainful eyes off of me since he returned to the waiting area from Tanzie's room. The expression on his face says 'go die'. I return his countenance in kind. If that prick thinks he can run me off with his ugly-ass mug and his brooding attitude, he'd better think again.
We've been sitting here for just under an hour since the Byers family was rushed away from Tanzie. They were able to stabilize her and took her for a CT scan and some X-rays. The nurse appeared once to let us know they've added a few more tests to the battery they're already running, but that's the last we've heard.
The halls on the third floor are a ghost town, with only the occasional orderly or custodian shuffling through the corridors. The waiting room lights have been dimmed, making me drowsy. I don't even know what time it is anymore. One, maybe two in the morning? We aren't the only people in the waiting room though, with one lonely, angry looking gentleman sitting against the wall opposite B and me. His eyes are glued to the television humming quietly in the corner, a bitter scowl twisting his harsh features.
We aren't the only ones hurting right now.
"You need anything, darlin'?" I ask, running my free hand in a manner I hope to be soothing over her exposed forearm. "I could go grab us all some food or coffee or—"
"Or you could go home," Cliff offers spitefully. "We don't need you here, interloping on a personal family matter."
"Daddy," B says wearily, lifting her head from my shoulder to face her hostile father. "Wyatt's just offering a simple kindness." Her voice is tired, threadbare from all of the emotion of the evening.
I release a slow breath, determined not to let Cliff's venom poison my relationship or my attitude. Somebody here has to be levelheaded and strong. Tanzie means the world to me, but she isn't my mother, bringing me some clarity and distance from the draining despair of the situation. I steel myself against the barbs of the old man, who's acting like a petulant child, resolving to be a man worthy enough of walking Colby through these cruel circumstances.
