"Kids, there's been an accident out in the pasture," Maryanne said, urgency coloring her tone. Wyatt and Colby had been engrossed in a game of Halo, relegated to the great indoors by the terrifying thunderstorm and pouring rain. She immediately had their attention.

"What kind of accident?" Wyatt asked after a moment of contemplation. There were a lot of scary things that could happen on a farm, but most of the circumstances he could think of involved some sort of machinery that would never be in use during such horrific weather.

"I don't know, baby, but I'm headed out to see if I can be of some help," Maryanne answered tersely, stuffing paperwork and first aid items into her purse. "Your father is out there," she added under her breath.

"We're coming with you," the pair answered in unison, dropping their game controllers to the floor before them and moving to action. They had their coats and boots on before Maryanne had even finished loading her purse.

Wyatt's heart was pounding in his chest. He'd known that his father was in the field, but it had never occurred to him that Marty could be tangled up in whatever mishap had transpired. His father was a burly mountain of a man hewn from stone, only to be enhanced by the muscles he'd acquired over his years as a hard-working stable hand. To Wyatt, he was invincible.

Colby was in a similar state of mind, her body quivering at the prospect of her grandfather Rick's involvement. For certainly where Marty was, Rick would not be far behind. Denial was the best medicine Colby could muster at the moment, choosing to believe that whatever might have happened in the pasture could be handled by the able folks in her grandfather's employ. Besides, as she repeatedly worked to convince herself, he may not be involved at all.

...

Maryanne raced toward the pasture, Wyatt and Colby in tow, having been given an approximate location in coordinates from a witnessing field hand. "We're not going to borrow trouble," she stated emphatically several times over the course of the drive.

The repetition of the words did nothing to quell the dread, souring like expired milk in Wyatt's belly. He'd have preferred to travel in silence, but that simply wasn't possible with two verbose and exceedingly anxious women along for the journey.

The trio arrived at the scene, approaching the river's edge in the relentless rain just in time to see an ambulance being loaded.

With two covered bodies.

"No, no, no," Maryanne cried, taking in the bewildered faces of those gathered around them. Everybody refused to look at her, confirming what she already knew to be true deep within.

Wyatt dismissed his mother's words, unwilling to accept this outcome without proof. Maryanne reached for her son, attempting to deter him from seeing what she wished desperately not to see herself, only to feel him shrug her hand away.

Making his way to the first of the two stretchers, Wyatt glanced at the EMT, who nodded his approval, averting his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Wyatt uncovered the head of the first of two victims, revealing a mop of silvery hair. Rick Tillerson.

The mournful cry escaping Colby's lips was heartbreaking, a sound that Wyatt knew he would never forget in all the days of his life, but it was not he who moved to comfort Colby. Maryanne folded a shuddering, sobbing Colby into her own shaking arms, as Wyatt proceeded with his inquisition.

Stepping toward the second stretcher, Wyatt reached for the covering with trembling fingers.

He knew. His father was nowhere to be seen.

He knew. Marty would never have left Rick out in the pasture on his own.

He knew.

He knew his father was dead before he pulled the covering back, revealing the face of the man that had taught him everything over the course of his fifteen years of life. The man that had loved him patiently and ceaselessly, even in Wyatt's most unlovable moments. He was gone.

Wyatt shuffled away from the stretchers filled with sorrow and memories, reaching the remaining two most important people in his life and joining them in their circle of heartache and tears.

...

It was a freak accident, or so they said, but nobody could know anything for certain. The only two people who could tell then the facts were dead.

The two men had been in a mad rush to stabilize the cattle before the thunderstorm, having rushed to pasture to corral the skittish creatures. The storm was projected to be dangerous, and Rick and Marty wanted to give the herd a fighting chance. That was where the known facts had come to an end.

Rick had died of a blow to the head. It was presumed that he had slipped on a patch of mud in crossing the river, forensics having found the boot prints not far upstream, as well as the offending rock his skull met quite bluntly.

Marty died of suffocation, having drowned with Rick clasped tightly in his arms, following a sudden rush of water surging down the river the two men were struggling to exit— a flash flood.

Wyatt didn't really care how it'd happened, only that it had, stripping one of the greatest people he had ever known from his life in the span of a few turbulent moments. The frustration he felt invaded his life on all fronts, affecting his schoolwork, his friendships, and the thing he felt most guilty about, his sweetheart.

Colby had taken a more positive approach to the situation, throwing herself headlong into new activities and clubs at school, choosing avoidance of her circumstances at all costs. It left her little time for the things that used to be important to her. She sidestepped her own feelings well enough, yet she couldn't help but notice those of her beloved. She ignored those as well.

There was never a formal breakup, just the dissolution of the breezy, carefree love they'd always shared. Sadness became guilt. Guilt led to bitterness. Bitterness transformed into anger and ultimately estrangement.

In both cases, it was not their own grief that kept them apart, but the pain of the other. Wyatt couldn't bear the anguish he saw in Colby's once lighthearted features. It shattered him to his very core. He'd have taken his own grief a thousand times or more if it meant that she could be made whole again.

Colby was dispirited by the loss of life in Wyatt's eyes, replaced by melancholy and resentment. She could see the burden he felt, the unwanted responsibility. She knew he would feel bound to pick up the slack left behind by Marty, and she was right.

The chasm between the former paramours became more insurmountable day by day. Wyatt and Colby knew it was over for good when they crossed paths at school, each declining to glance in the other's direction.

Colby

"Dammit!" Wyatt yelps.

I don't even try to stifle my giggle, pulling him back towards me. I kiss along the edge of his stubble covered jaw as he groans. Gently, I massage the back of his head where he hit it on the ceiling of my Jeep.

"Don't be such a baby," I tease. "Do I need to kiss it better?"

A grin spreads across his handsome face as he leans into me, kissing down my neck and then moving on to my collarbone. I suck in a sharp breath, which makes him chuckle. He knows all my little hotspots.

"You're gonna fog up the windows, baby," he drawls, raising an eyebrow. He smirks as my hands find their way underneath his shirt, and I feel goosebumps rising over the surface of his skin. My fingers trace lightly up the length of his spine, making him shiver at my touch. His dark eyes lock onto mine, filled with an intensity that fuels me.

His mouth collides with mine eagerly, and I tug at his shirt pulling my body closer to his. His tongue sweeps over my own, and the warmth of his touch has me pleading for more as he kisses me deeply with the same desperation I feel.

I was never okay without him.

"B," Wyatt mumbles huskily, his breath tickling against my temple. "I'm sorry I pushed you away after..." His eyes close and he shakes his head. The regret he feels is palpable to me.

I press a finger to his lips. "It wasn't just you," I say, shifting under his weight. He awkwardly maneuvers his large frame into a seated position, and I crawl into his lap, my knees on either side of his hips, watching his brows furrow.

"You needed me as much as I needed you," he continues. His eyes meet mine again, but the sadness in them is unmistakable.

"Wyatt, it wasn't just you," I repeat, frustrated. I take his hand, holding it with both of mine. "Watching you grieve..." I avert my gaze, but he tips my chin toward his face, kissing me lazily, attentively. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and a tear trickles down my face as we kiss.

That single tear gradually becomes a consuming sob. Wyatt pulls me close to him, enveloping me in his strong arms. He rocks me slowly against his chest until my breathing steadies.

"It was the same for me, B," he says quietly. I curl up against him, and he begins twisting his fingers through the strands of my hair the way he always does without thinking.

"I was selfish. Watching you hurt over Rick... You tried to smile, and you tried to keep life light, but I knew the storm going on inside of you because I had it too. Hell, I still do," he admits as his body tenses slightly. "I couldn't see you in pain like that. I couldn't be around you knowing that you felt as dark as I did. It was too much."

His breath stutters in his chest, crushing me into a zillion tiny pieces. I turn to kiss him, only to find that his eyes are red-rimmed and wet.

I couldn't love him more if I tried.

I rest my head on his shoulder, each of our hearts pulsing in accordance with the other. "We both handled it wrong," I say. "I shouldn't have allowed you to push me away. I knew why you were doing it, and I let you do it anyway. I knew you still loved me. I think I've known all along."

He chuckles, rustling my hair with his breath. "I'm that transparent, huh?"

He smiles, and I bite my lip nodding nonchalantly in response. When he laughs again, it strikes me that I could live a thousand lives and never find more joy than I do when he's happy.

He tightens his arms around me, squeezing. "Well, you coulda fooled me with all that frolicking around as C-squared," he jokes, pretending to gag himself with his finger. I turn around shoving him in the chest. He grins devilishly, and I can't hide my own smile.

"I wasn't the only one... frolicking," I reply, jabbing my finger into his sternum. He catches my finger in his hand, drawing my palm to his lips.

"We'll get it right this time," he says earnestly, meeting my eyes. "No matter how much of a pain in my ass you become, I'm never gonna give up on you again."

"Deal," I say, sticking my hand out with my pinky extended. I wiggle it at him, expectantly.

"Sealed with a damn pinky promise," he smiles, rolling his eyes. Reluctantly, he sticks his pinky out, wrapping it around mine. He uses it as an opportunity to pull me towards him. I smother his prickly face with kisses, and he relaxes into the leather interior of the back seat, folding his arms around me, with everything just as it should be.

"See?" I begin confidently. "Skipping class was a good idea."

"You know, all these years I've tried to keep you out of trouble, but you're the one always causin' it," he says playfully. "What am I gonna do with you?"

I steal myself away from him, reaching for the car door.

"I can think of a few things," I tease. He raises an eyebrow pushing a hand through his tousled hair.

I wink, pulling myself from the back seat. "But for now, you're gonna take me to lunch."

...

"So, how was not being in class?" Lana says, mildly agitated. "You didn't answer any of my texts!"

"You'd better have a great excuse," Morgan adds, tossing one book into her locker and extracting another.

"Oh!" I say, retrieving my phone from my back pocket. I hadn't even noticed it buzzing, but there they sit—twelve texts from Lana. She watches me, hands on her hips, and I quickly scroll through them, each text more irate than the former. "I'm sorry, I was... busy."

She eyes me warily, waiting for my excuse when understanding dawns. "You were with Wyatt," she says, almost more as a question, and I swear her excitement is seeping from her pores. My smile betrays me, and they both squeal.

"Ahhh!" Morgan squeals. "I knew it, I knew it!"

"Shut up, Morgan," Lana says, hushing her. "He's right there, you idiot!" She indicates an approaching Wyatt with her index finger, her pointing and shushing anything but subtle.

Wyatt reaches my side, grin intact, kissing me lightly on the cheek. "Ladies," he says by way of greeting.

"Hey," Lana and Morgan say in unison, like two love-struck puppies, only now I'm not jealous anymore.

Because I am his, and he is mine.

A manicured hand snakes its way around Wyatt, landing on his arm. I peer around him before I hear her speak. It's Wynn. She hasn't spoken a word to me, yet here she is seeking out Wyatt.

Again.

"Hey guys," she says sheepishly, waving over to us. She's greeted with scowls from the bowels of hell from Morgan and Lana, and I'm almost certain that my expression mirrors theirs as well. She either doesn't notice or doesn't care, as she leans ever closer to Wyatt.

"Are we still on after school?" she whispers, and I have to strain to hear her. It's not flirtatious, and just a question, but it still makes me furious. He nods, and she smiles, patting his arm. Waving goodbye, Wynn excuses herself and continues on to her next class.

"What did she want?" Lana hisses. I barely made out what Wynn had said myself.

"She just needs help with something," Wyatt says casually. His eye catches mine, and he flicks his head in the direction of a vacant classroom down the hall.

"I'll see you guys later," I say, catching his hint. We do need to talk.

Wyatt and I stroll down the student infested hallway hand in hand, my gaze still following Wynn. I observe as she says hello to Cole, but he breezes past her with no acknowledgment. That seems cold, but then again, they've always had some degree of ongoing strife between them.

We enter a room at the end of the corridor, and Wyatt flips the light on, closing the deteriorating blinds that cover the window of the door.

"Are you gonna tell me what her problem is, or what?" I ask. The interaction between Wynn and Cole, or lack thereof, confirms what I'd thought before. I know it has something to do with him, but why she chose to confide in Wyatt and not me is the part that throws me.

"Baby," he says calmly. "I'm not gonna be the one to tell you." He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, placing his hands on both of my arms. "She asked me not to say anything, and she's my friend, too."

I want to be mad at him. Heck, I am mad at him, but only because he's honorable to a fault.

"Can you at least give me a hint?" I say, propping an impatient hand on my hip. His lips bend into a hint of a smirk, and he shakes his head.

Denied.

"I can tell you that it's got nothing to do with you," he confides, leaning in to kiss me. I know this game. It's an evasion tactic, and a well perfected one. I want his lips on mine, but I can't give in so readily. I push him with both hands, but he steps backward, causing me to stumble into him. He catches me, bringing his mouth to my own.

And sweet Moses, I'm powerless.

He kisses me, so tenderly it makes me ache. Saying I've missed this, missed him, well that's the understatement of the century.

He brings his palms to my cheeks, stroking the swell of them with his thumbs. He kisses each of my eyelids in turn, the tip of my nose...I'm putty in his manly hands.

"She'll talk to you when she's ready," he says quietly against my lips.

I nod, knowing that he never does anything without a solid reason. Keeping Wynn's confidence is noble, albeit maddening. But when his integrity is involved, I really can't complain.

Startling me, he picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me over to a desk, seating me on top of it. He grins before he goes in for more, and I pull away.

"What?" I ask, curious as to what part of this conversation could be so amusing.

"No matter how big of a pain in my ass you become..." he says, chuckling reflexively as he drops kisses down my neck.

Looks like we're gonna miss a little more class today...