**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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Colby
"Show her how you flip 'em!" Luke hollers excitedly. Maryanne grins at him, and I'm stricken by the familiarity between them. Luke looks more at home here than he does in our own space.
She'd taken a break to eat some pancakes while they were still hot, but Luke's appetite is insatiable. The smell of batter and butter fills the kitchen, and she smiles at my brother the way she has always looked at her own son.
"Well," she says, pushing her chair out from behind her. "Marty did always say that the pancakes don't count unless you give 'em some air. That's probably why you're still hungry." She winks at Luke and he laughs, craning his neck to watch her from where he sits in the living room.
Maryanne pours the remaining mixture into her pan, nearly covering its entire surface. The batter hisses as it makes contact with the blistering metal, bubbling as it begins to solidify.
"Y'all better be paying attention 'cause I'm only gonna do it once," Maryanne asserts. "This is a mammoth of a pancake I'm whipping up for you, Luke."
My brother chuckles, his eyes still locked on her as she removes her pan from the burner, shimmying the metal underneath the pancake, causing it to glide opposite her movements.
"You ready?" she asks, and we all nod in unison.
Her eyes narrow in focus as she gives the flapjack a swift push. The pancake takes to the air, turning over itself. Maryanne successfully lands it onto a plate, impressing all of us more than we'd anticipated with her parlor trick. I applaud her and she sweeps into a bow, pan and plate in hand.
Wyatt chuckles at her theatrics from where he lays on the couch in the other room, then clutches his belly wincing. Luke's eyes widen in response, and he springs from the far side of the couch.
"He's gonna blow chunks!" Luke exclaims, putting as much distance between himself and Wyatt as he can manage, stumbling as he backs away.
Maryanne moves quickly, retrieving a bucket from under their kitchen sink. She dumps its contents onto the sixties themed linoleum floor, sending cleaning supplies of multiple varieties scattering in different directions. She tosses the bucket to me, and I rush over to Wyatt, planting it in his lap. His face contorts while his stomach decides whether or not to reveal its contents.
He groans, leaning himself over the olive green bucket. He lurches forward, making an awful sound that makes my own stomach turn.
"I can't take it," Luke shrieks, waving his hands wildly in disgust. He looks away, directing his sights on his enormous untouched pancake. He sits down at the kitchen bar and drowns it in maple syrup, ignoring Wyatt's dry heaving.
Maryanne places another glass of orange juice in front of Luke, and he happily guzzles it down. The two continue chatting amongst themselves while Wyatt fights against the churning remains of pie, pumpkin donuts, cider, cocoa, and candy from last night. It's no wonder he's struggling.
