**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
"It's exactly the same," I say quietly.
My breath catches as I scan my surroundings, filling my senses with a blissful nostalgia. I wish with every molecule of my being that I could go back to when everything in my world was simple and beautiful— before we lost two of the most precious pieces of our hearts.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I continue. Taking a timid step away from Wyatt's beat up pickup, I hear his driver's side door creak as he slams it shut. The stiff blades of wild grass covering the field crunch under the soles of Wyatt's boots with each step he takes toward me.
"You haven't been back here either, huh?" he prods. I shake my head, not meeting his gaze. I find I can't make myself look at him. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I can't believe so much time has been lost.
The euphonic sounds of rushing water from the river just down the hill bring memories flooding back to me. The agony of acknowledging their presence would be unbearable to face on my own, but Wyatt saves me with his embrace.
The ghosts of the times we shared here dance around me, tormenting me until I realize that they only became unendurable when I tried to run from them.
For years now, I've attempted to bury our past, but in this moment I see that our futures were meant to be shared.
My body shudders in Wyatt's arms as he holds me tightly against him. Tears slip freely down my cheeks, splattering into the dirt at my feet.
The gravity of the turn my life has taken since we went our separate ways sits heavily on me daily, but for the first time since I lost what little control I had of my life, I feel like I can breathe.
Wyatt runs his fingers through my hair, carefully running them the length of the tousled strands. It's a calming gesture that he's done unconsciously for as long as I can remember.
"You know, B," Wyatt says quietly, taking a step backward. One of his hands trails down my arm finding mine and squeezing it gently. "I think I still owe you a dance." My eyes meet his, and he places his palm on my tear-stained cheek. He nods his head toward his rusty old truck, where music still floats quietly from the open windows.
I search his expression, finding a hint of a smile. Part of me is surprised he remembers, but then again, when it comes to the two of us, he seems to recall every detail of our history flawlessly. Maybe the whispers of our past that remain here are all that we need to see what we should never have ignored.
"I believe you're right, Dodge," I reply, returning his smile easily. I use the sleeve of my shirt to blot away the wetness remaining on my face.
The pace of the song breezing in our direction brings Wyatt closer to me. He takes me in his arms, wrapping them around my waist. I place my hands on his shoulders as he begins swaying along to the slow melody.
