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.

The moon is full and bright, radiating across the field, and the crisp night air is intoxicating. These are the moments that make someone's life— the moments that give you all the answers you've been seeking.

"Little me would be so pissed right now," he mutters into my ear as if it's a secret. The image of Wyatt from so many years ago flashes like a snapshot into my mind.

"No doubt," I giggle. He keeps to the rhythm, pulling himself away from me and turning me out into a graceful spin. When I return to him, he takes my hand in his, placing the other on the small of my back.

"In my defense," he begins, rocking me gently. "I was ten, and I was terrified I'd crush your toes." He clutches me tightly to his firm body like he, too, wants to hold onto this little piece of heaven.

"I guess little you didn't know he had some moves up his sleeves," I say, laughing.

Wyatt bows me into a dip, his face hovering close to mine. Every part of me is aching to kiss him, but he pulls me back up, holding me close once again as the song fades into the night.

His lips brush lightly across my forehead as he runs his hand up through my hair.

"I'm glad we came here," he says, pulling away from me slowly. "I'd better be getting you back home before your daddy finds out that I made a felon outta you tonight, though."

"Not yet, Wyatt. Please," I plead. His eyes fill with concern, while mine brim with tears at his mention of 'home'.

"B..." he says, trailing off.

I wouldn't know how to respond either.

He wipes a tear from beneath my eye, turning wordlessly to his truck. Pulling down the tailgate, he nods me over to it.

Planting my hands on the edge of the pickup's cool surface, I jump up, seating myself out of the way while Wyatt spreads a tattered blanket over the remainder of the truck bed. Once he smoothes it out to his satisfaction, we both crawl across it, lying down beside each other.

The night sky is perfectly clear, and the stars sprinkle across the sky like confetti.

Wyatt takes my hand, and I know he's waiting for me to talk. I inhale deeply, contemplating where to begin. He knows I don't want to go home, and he's been a firsthand witness to my avoidance twice now. He deserves to know why.

"Mama's dying," I blurt out. Sobs quickly follow my outburst, and he exhales slowly, squeezing my hand tightly. My whole body trembles with my admission. It's the first time I've said it out loud. We don't look at each other, and I'm glad for it. I'm pleased that I don't have to face this alone. Wyatt doesn't speak, but his presence comforts me more than words ever could.

"She's been getting worse fast, and I'm so scared to lose her, Wyatt. Daddy's barely around anymore. He works constantly, and everyone on his committees keeps trying to push him into running for state senate." My voice breaks, but the words pour out of me, lifting the burden of my hidden thoughts. "I think he's thinking about it, and I'm so angry at him for it. How can he even consider somethin' like that when Mama can't even feed herself anymore?"

"Mom told me that it had been progressing," Wyatt admits sheepishly. "What'd they call it again?"

"Early-Onset Alzheimer's," I reply quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"That's right," he says. He pauses for what feels like forever before he continues, "I'm so sorry. I should've been there for you."

He maneuvers his body, shifting so he's lying on his side facing me. I still can't bring myself to look over at him.

"It's not like you weren't dealing with... things too," I say, trying my best to avoid the mention of the additional grief I carry with me daily. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, too."

We lay there in a peaceful silence together, tucked away from the problems of tomorrow. It's a shame that the sun won't rest for a bit longer this time. I finally get up the nerve to glance over at Wyatt, whose eyes express everything he's always struggled to say.

"I should get home before sunrise," I say, grateful for the God-given perfection afforded me on this early morning. I feel rejuvenated.

Wyatt sits up on his elbows watching me closely."You sure you're ready?" he asks gently.

I nod. A few quick minutes later we pull up to the front porch of my house. Wyatt helps me out of his truck, walking me soundlessly up the front steps. The top step groans as Wyatt treads over it, and his body tenses with the sound.

"Relax," I whisper, giggling quietly. "I'm sure everyone's still asleep."

The sunlight is beginning to seep its way through the shadows, reclaiming the day. Wyatt wraps me into the safety of his arms. "I'm here now, whenever you need me," he says softly. His dark eyes search mine, and I catch the longing in them that I used to see when he'd look at me.

Our eyes are locked, refusing to diverge, and my heart begs him for more than what he's just offered.

As if hearing the frenzied pleas of my thoughts, Wyatt slowly leans toward me. He places his hands on either side of my flushed face, and I close my eyes, waiting with breathless anticipation.

He kisses me, his lips just brushing the corner of my own. I wrap my hands around his neck and feel his pulse beating wildly beneath my wrist. Sliding one hand behind my head, he eases it downward, pressing his mouth to my forehead, and lingering there briefly before drawing himself away.

He smirks then, that rugged, handsome smile I want all to myself, and moves toward his beat-up truck. I wave goodbye and then turn to face my reality, letting myself through the front door. Once it's closed, I exhale heavily.

Loving each other feels so much better than all the hurt we've inflicted through our jealousy and confusion.

I only hope this truce will last.