Cole

"How does it feel?" Wynn asks, her ferocious breath jolting me out of my half-asleep stupor.

"How does what feel?" I wrap my arms around her, drawing her nearer as our decrepit bed groans under our shifting weight.

She props herself on her elbow, smiling as she traces a finger down the length of my chest. "Waking up as state champ with a full-ride scholarship and a ring on your finger, of course. What else?"

"Oh, that." I grin, smoothing my hand over her wild bed hair. "It was a crazy weekend, wasn't it?"

That's an understatement if ever there was one. Marrying Wynn was a no-brainer and easily one of the best decisions of my life. We followed that up with the championship game that had our Raiders running rings around the Galveston Giants. Our victory was fierce and relentless, resulting in one of the biggest blowouts in Texas high school football history. Add to that my meet-and-greet with a recruit from Texas A&M offering me a four-year scholarship that dreams are made of, and my weekend was a trifecta of perfection.

"I still can't believe it's real sometimes," Wynn confides, eyeing the sapphire blue rock on her finger. "And now that the whole football team knows we're married, my family can't be far behind."

"That's true," I admit, recalling the stunned expressions of my teammates when I introduced my wife at the after party. It had to have come as a shock, as most of them probably believed Wynn's recent revelation of her pregnancy to be the result of a one night stand with QB one, rather than the result of a long-standing relationship between the two of us.

The rumors have come full circle now, with the womanizing playboy and trollop of North High having committed their lives to one another, exposing all of our classmates' ceaseless gossiping for what it really was: nothing but lies.

Now that's a scandal.

And knowing what I do of Wynn's family, our marriage won't be met with any resistance. They'd have to have time to think about somebody other than themselves to give that news any thought. As for my family, I have no doubt that my father's relayed the message to my mom and Taylor, but I don't really see how that matters at this point. Dad would've been our greatest obstacle once, but he's about the furthest thing from my mind, anymore.

I have better things to do now.

"We'll handle it, right? Just like we always have. Mom and Dad probably won't even learn of my marital status for months to come anyway," Wynn says, sighing as she falls to her back.

I nod. "You know, it's easier for me to wrap my head around you being my wife. I was there for that, but this..." I roll to my side, my hand resting on her flat stomach. "I can't see or feel this."

"I promise she's in there. And PS, you were there for that, too." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively as she giggles at my obtuse remark.

Yeah, I was definitely there...

"Okay, trouble, I'll give you that," I say, poking her playfully in the ribs and adding to her amusement. "But how can you be sure that's a she and not a he?"

Wynn takes my hand in hers, flattening my palm against the taut muscles of her belly. "I just know. Actually...no, never mind." She shakes her head in dismissal.

"What? Tell me," I demand, pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her ear.

"Well...I've kind of been calling her Lyla," she admits. "Only in my head, and that doesn't have to be her name, but—"

"I love it, babe," I say, and I do. It feels right, just like this—being here with my beautiful wife, tucked away from the chaos of the world. Some things are simply innate.

"Really?" Wynn smiles, her eyes sparkling with tears, a reaction I'm accustomed to these days.

"Yep," I say. "But if she ends up being he, we may have to go with Lyle instead."

"Ew, Galloway! Not in a million years!" she lilts as I laugh at her abject horror.

"Fine. How 'bout Lysander or Lionel?" I offer.

"Gross. I think we'll leave the naming of our spawn to me." She pats me on the cheek in pacifying fashion.

"Lionel Galloway is a winning name, Nono," I say, reluctantly rising from our bed. "But for now, we'd best get you and Lyle ready for school. I need to leave in a half hour and you don't have much longer."

"So help me if you start calling our child Lyle!" she groans, following my lead before making a bee-line for the bathroom. I never go first in the morning, all part of our newly adopted code known as pregnancy privilege. It's the least I can do, considering that she's growing a little person for the both of us.

"Grab that, would you?" Wynn shouts through the closed bathroom door, having heard her phone ringing from the bedside table. I move to answer it, seeing Wyatt's pissy face on the phone screen.

"'Sup, douchebag?"

"Hey, Cole," Wyatt replies, sounding less than chipper. He pauses, taking a deep breath. "Sooo, Tanzie died last night."

Shit.

"I...geez, Wyatt, I'm so sorry." I drop to the edge of the bed, completely caught off guard. "How's Colby?"

"Alright." Wyatt's typically terse conversational skills are punctuated with exhaustion and grief. I suppose I wouldn't be very conversational either, all things considered.

"What can we do?" I ask helplessly, feeling like a hapless moron that's completely ill-equipped for such a harsh reality.

Wyatt sighs. "I can't be here, not with Cliff hanging around. I'll only further aggravate the situation, but I don't want B to be alone. Any chance that Wynn's available?"

"Say no more. We'll be there ASAP."

"Thanks, man," Wyatt says before killing the line.

"Damn," I mutter, raking a hand through my hair in frustration.

"What is it?" Wynn asks from the bathroom doorway.

"Colby's mom died."

Wordlessly, she moves toward our closet, tugging on a pair of sweatpants before throwing her hair into a sloppy bun atop her head. She slides her feet into a pair of flip-flops, grabbing her jacket as she makes her way toward the door. "Let's go." Her lip quivers when her eyes meet mine, and in them I see her resolve, brought about by years of friendship.

I'm certain that Wynn feels the loss of Tanzie to her core, as she was as much a mother to Wynn as she was to Colby, but Wynn's purpose in this moment is clear. She's determined to be solid and steady for her best friend, despite the devastation I know she shares.

Wynn's strength of mind and spirit will never cease to awe me.

...

"Where to?" Nash asks from the driver's seat of his meticulously cleaned Xterra. Ari and Nash were quick to join me in cutting class today, choosing to spend the day distracting Wyatt.

While I'm certain he would rather be tending to Colby, that would only bring about more acrimony with her douchie father. Wynn is his acting substitute, doing with B what we're attempting to do with her surly boyfriend. One two-thousand calorie breakfast later, we're looking for our next diversion.

"Flea market," Ari replies automatically. "We'll go make treasures out of trash. It's a good time."

Only Aurelius Castillo can say things like that and make it sound the least bit entertaining. Still, it's not like we have anything better to do. We head toward the edge of town where there's a small collection of office buildings and a lawn and garden center next to the flea market. It's housed in an industrial metal building spanning several football fields in length, and I find myself wondering how they could possibly fill such an enormous space.

I get my answer in the form of every conceivable bargain known to mankind, all available to us through bartering or haggling. If I'm brutally honest with myself, I'd never have set foot in a place like this in my previous life. Not because I thought myself above it, really— more because I didn't have to. I had the best of what the world had to offer at my fingertips under my parent's roof, wanting for nothing.

But now I see endless possibilities.

"Awesome, right?" Ari spreads his arms wide as he introduces us to untold amounts of valuables we never knew we needed. "This is where I found the walker I transformed into my chariot for homecoming. Follow me, gentlemen. There are deals to be made."

Indeed. We follow Ari into the fray, sifting through the various displays for something we can't live without. Eventually, Nash and Ari wander away to a table filled with an odd assortment of hats, leaving Wyatt and me to our own devices.

It's the first time all day that we've been alone together. While I'd like to ask him how he's doing, or how we can help make the loss he's experiencing suck less, I know better. Being here with the three of us is the last place he wants to be, and there's really nothing that can be said or done to alleviate the sting of his separation from Colby or the trial of Tanzie's departure. Hell, Wyatt's a man of few words under the best of circumstances. Sharing and caring time is unlikely to happen anytime soon.

"Look," I say, elbowing him in the side and directing his attention to the next aisle over. Nash wears a zebra print cowboy hat as he watches Ari bicker with the merchant over a faux leopard fur top hat.

It's absurd.

Ari gestures wildly pointing toward Nash and himself, all the while slipping into intermittent Spanish as he makes a play for their prizes. The merchant shakes his head, insisting Ari's price is insulting before demanding double.

"Fine," Ari growls, forking over four crisp dollar bills from his wallet. He places the top hat on his head, swaggering toward us with Nash in tow.

I snicker. "They look like—"

"Idiots," Wyatt mutters, though he's definitely cracked a smile.

"El chiflado over there got the best of me, dammit," Ari grunts, jerking his thumb toward the vendor. "I'll be back though, and you'd better believe I won't let that happen again." He adjusts the faux fur trophy, tipping it forward so it nearly covers his eyes.

"Four bucks is pretty steep," Wyatt says. I can tell he's on the edge of losing it, but Ari's earnest pursuit of flea market justice combined with the pimp hat atop his head is simply too much. Wyatt snorts, crumbling into a much-needed fit of laughter, and I can't help joining him. Nash grins, eying Ari warily.

"Go ahead and laugh, my friends," Ari says, a reluctant smile forming on his face. "I'll win the next round. I always win."

"If winning is what you'd call that monstrosity on top of your head, I'd hate to see what you look like when you lose," Wyatt says, bringing about a fresh round of laughter. Ari takes it like a champ though, throwing his arm around Wyatt's shoulder as he leads him further down the row.

"How's he doin'?" Nash asks quietly as we trail a few steps behind.

"He's okay," I say, and it's true. He's dealing with a monumental blow in a way that's nothing short of admirable. And for the guy that's always on the giving side of support, he seems to be receiving it well, too. Friends like Ari and Nash are a welcome relief at a time like this. Thick as thieves, these guys.

...

"Think she'll like it?" Wyatt asks as he loads another finding from the flea market into the back of Nash's car.

"Hells yeah!" I reply. "Glad you came across it. This is gonna be great!"

This just so happens to be a baby swing that Wyatt spotted in one of the booths as we were leaving. It's a little worse for wear with a cracked vinyl surface covered in a pattern of dancing bears, but the effect it had on Wyatt's mood couldn't be ignored. He even offered to help me fix it up, since I'm certain it's condition will be less than pleasing to my darling wife.

Wyatt went from sullen to excited, making plans for reconditioning and suggesting his mom's services as a seamstress, his enthusiasm bringing me readily on board for the project. We even went halvsies on it since we're both dirt poor. In truth, I'm pretty stoked myself. It's the first official thing purchased for Lyla and a perfect distraction for Wyatt, giving him something positive to focus his attention on.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Nash mutters, pacing back and forth in his newly acquired hat beside his SUV. I'm about to ask him what the problem is when a cherry red Armada pulls up beside us, rolling the window down.

Nash stiffens. "Mama, I—"

"Nashawn Isaiah Porter! I was hoping I was wrong," Mrs. Porter states crossly. "I can't believe you're skipping school! You get your class-cutting heinie in this car, son."

Beside me, Wyatt bites his lip to stifle his laughter while Ari snickers openly at the scene before him, but Mrs. Porter and Nash pay him no mind as Nash continues pleading his case to his irate mother.

"Mrs. Porter, I'm afraid it's my fault," I say, hoping to come to his aid.

"Ohhhh, no," she says, waving me off. "Don't you try to take the fall for my son and his antics. I know this was his idea, he's always the ringleader."

"We tried to tell him we needed to head back to school, Mrs. Porter," Ari says, stepping forward as he removes his pimp hat. "He just wouldn't hear of it, and we're stuck because he drove." Ari nods toward Nash's car as Nash gives him the stink-eye to end all stink-eyes.

"You hand Aurelius your keys and get in this car," Mrs. Porter demands coolly, though I can see the rage bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm gonna walk you back into school myself."

"Mama, please—"

"Thank you, Mrs. Porter," Ari interrupts, swiping the dangling keys from Nash's hand. "And might I add how lovely you look in green."

"Why thank you, Aurelius," she gushes. "So polite! Perhaps my husband and I should send Nashawn to your family to learn some manners. Car, now." She jams her finger into the dashboard turning her gaze to her fuming son, who dutifully climbs into the vehicle. He waves as she raises the window, mouthing 'douchebag' to Ari, who smiles mercilessly at his pissed compatriot. Mrs. Porter peels out of the parking lot, leaving the three of us behind.

"Won't he hate your guts for that little stunt?" I ask, stunned by the turn of events.

"Nah," Ari says. "He knows his mama likes me better than him. He's used to it."

Wyatt nods in assent and I'm left shaking my head in disbelief at the ridiculous relationship the three of them share—closer than brothers. I don't know how I was lucky enough to stumble into friendship with these three, but I sure am grateful.

I hop into Nash's surrendered car considering operation distraction a success. I only hope the same is true for Wynn and Colby today.