"I'm sorry. That's all I can remember," Emma said, with a disappointed twist of her lips.

"I get it. It was dark, late, and oh yeah, you died," Cam stated flatly. "Regaining memory after something like that is a long shot. Saying it was big tells me it was a truck or SUV, blinding light means the headlights were high, and the RAV wasn't exactly short, so this was larger. Whoever hit you left evidence. We've sent the blue paint scraped from your bumper to a lab in Seattle. Providing it didn't have an aftermarket paint job, that should give us the make and model."

"Thanks, Cam. You and Jess coming over Thursday night?"

"You know it. I'm on duty now, or I would stay and help you get settled. But it seems you're all taken care of," she grinned as a cup of tea came floating through the living room. "I'll see you tomorrow. Wyatt, make sure she rests, eats, and text if you need anything."

"Will do," he said, not having anything to type a response.

"He will," Emma repeated for Cam with a soft smile to Wyatt as she accepted the mug.

Cam gave her a wink and headed out. Jessie had dropped her off and left immediately, needing to get to the bar, but Emma knew they would both come running if she called. Though it wouldn't be necessary. Nothing seemed as daunting anymore, now that Wyatt was back.

"All your things are down in the darkroom. Your drawer is still empty if you want it," Emma told him, suddenly uncertain about how to navigate this.

"I want it. I want everything with you for as long as you'll have me."

"Let's see if you're still saying that when I'm eighty, wrinkled, and senile."

"I can't wait," he laughed. "What do you need from me now?"

"Hmm, food, laundry, fresh bed sheets, maybe a fire before it gets too warm to have them anymore," she teased, but Wyatt didn't even bat an eye.

Turned out the man could make more than deep fried turkey and eggs. Soups happened to be his specialty, and that evening it was a hearty potato blend, since most of the groceries had gone off by that point. Wyatt cleaned out the fridge, did all the laundry, exercised River in the backyard, and kept his little bird bundled up by the fire with her e-reader.

"This is Emma," she answered when a strange number showed up on her cell.

"Emma, this is Mike. I hope you don't mind. I was over at Dockside, and Jessie gave me your number. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were alright. Do you need anything? Groceries? Medicine? Anything?"

"That's very kind of you. I'm doing good at the moment."

"I, um, wow this is weird. I need to ask something. I may have overheard that um, well is he..."

"Is Wyatt back?" she asked softly, putting him out of his misery.

"Yeah. Jessie kinda slipped about texting with him. This is nuts, but well, is it true?"

Emma laughed. "All true. I'm eating his potato cheese soup as we speak."

"The one with the bacon and chives?"

"Yup. I told him it was like a loaded bake potato after a spin in the blender."

"That about sums it up," Mike chuckled. "Tell him he still owes me that recipe... oh, no don't do that. Does he still believe that I..."

"No, no that's been cleared up," Emma interrupted quickly. "Even Cam admitted she was wrong about you."

"Wow," he breathed. "Nearly six years, I didn't realize how badly I needed someone to believe in me. To know I was innocent. Thank you, Emma."

"Believing the truth doesn't need gratitude. Hey, are you busy Sunday?"

"Uh, no. Not that I can think of. Why?"

"You and Wyatt should come over."

"Oh, that's not a great idea. I don't want my boy to freak out or get involved."

"I think your best friend would love to see your son who carries his name. Little Wyatt won't even know he's here. Bring some toys, and I can play with him while you two patch things up. I have a feeling you both kind of need that."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Two o' clock?"

"Alright, Emma. We'll see you then."

When Emma could no longer keep her eyes open, Wyatt carried her up to bed. He lit another fire in the room, and she sleepily watched him work, loving the way his shoulders moved and seeing his rear as he knelt on the hearth.

"Are you checking me out, Ms. Porter?"

"I certainly am, Mr. Scott. I can't believe I can see you. I'll never grow tired of looking or hearing."

"I can't believe I can finally touch you, and I'm too scared I'll hurt you if I do."

"My lips are fully functional," she grinned.

Wyatt came over to the bed and leaned down, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and stroking her cheek.

"That they are, little bird," he whispered, capturing her mouth with his own.

The few stolen kisses in the hospital had been gentle, chaste, and disrupted with tubes, wires, and monitors. This time there was nothing in the way. Wyatt carefully lowered himself down at her right side, mindful of her left leg and cracked ribs. He gently scooped the back of her head in his palm and finally kissed her the way he had longed to do since that first week when she moved into his house.

Wyatt's tongue swept along the seam of her mouth, and Emma eagerly opened to him, a soft moan escaping at the feel of his touch. He was tender, slow, and passionate as he explored her mouth, running his tongue along hers and tasting her minty breath. Emma was certain she had never been kissed like this, as if she was all that existed. As if she was his.

Emma was breathless, inhaling sips of air between every break in their lips. She wanted more, threading her fingers through his wild, thick hair, wishing this never had to stop. But Wyatt knew her lungs and ribs had taken a beating, and despite sharing her sentiment to continue, he pulled back. He had not experienced human touch in almost six years. Simply the feel of her hand in his, the velvety brush of her skin on his fingertips, was enough to bring him overwhelming satisfaction. The rest could wait.

"Sleep, little bird. I'll be here when you wake again."

That night two sets of eyes watched Emma. Wyatt lay by her side, and River stayed in his dog bed. Though he dozed off and on, Wyatt was amazed by the pup's attentiveness. He was checking on her, occasionally rising to give her a sniff before returning to his spot by the fireplace. The dog had easily accepted Wyatt's presence, but his affection was clearly for the sleeping woman.

When coffee showed up with an actual man attached, the grin that broke across Emma's face held all the happiness she never knew could be hers. He was still here. Each time she saw him that acknowledgment was at the forefront of her thoughts. She could still see him. Hear him. Feel him. He had been the best part of being stuck in that hospital bed, a captive audience for his every move, word, and touch. Just the brush of his fingers made her heart race, and she was certain these ordinary sensations would always be extraordinary.

Wyatt loved taking care of her. After years with no meaning or purpose, carrying the woman he loved up and down the stairs, spotting her through physical therapy exercises, doing what cooking and cleaning he could, and helping her wash while supporting her leg were all things he wanted to do. When she let him clean her sutures and change the bandages, he felt needed. Wyatt never knew these things mattered to him until he lost the ability to do them.

Emma dove into work during the day and let Wyatt pamper her at night. Now that she was an editor, missing a week of work was a lot more stressful. Mr. Harper had given her two more authors, and one was brand new to both her and the company. By the time Jessie and Cam showed up Thursday evening, she was more than ready to relax with her friends.

"Well hello, tall, dark, and invisible," Jessie said, using humor to mask her startled reaction. Wyatt had opened the door wearing a black Henley and dark blue jeans with his preferred white socks. He looked perfectly normal to Emma, but she knew her friends were seeing clothes with no body, and it made her giggle.

"Holy fuck," Cam choked, walking in behind Jess. "Emma, a little warning next time."

"Sorry, I thought you knew I lived with my..." Emma paused, not having any idea what to call him.

"Her man," Wyatt supplied with a wink.

"My man," Emma said, turning red.

"He told you to say that, didn't he?" Jessie asked with a smirk.

"That he did," she grinned, biting down on her lower lip to hold in the laugh.

"And I live with my woman. Makes sense to me," he shrugged.

"Well, did your man come through with the chili? Because I brought a whole heap of fries, shredded cheddar, sour cream, fresh chives, and a bottle of gin."

"What the hell are you on about?" the tablet squawked in the awful electronic voice.

Jessie literally jumped back a foot, and Emma lost it when Cam reached for her gun which wasn't there.

"This is how we used to 'talk' to each other when reading wasn't an option," Emma explained with finger quotes.

"That is both awesome and freaky," Cam grunted.

"Wyatt, love. Jessie brought everything for loaded chili cheese fries," Emma grinned.

"I love you, but you will not defile my momma's chili like that," he said with a very serious face that just made Emma laugh again.

"Have I told all of you that laughing really hurts," she huffed, hugging a pillow to her chest. "I promise it will not defile your momma's chili. It's just optional upgrades."

"Upgrade? You can't upgrade perfection," he sighed, going back to the kitchen.

"What just happened?" Cam asked, watching his retreating clothes.

"I believe I insulted his momma."

All three of them laughed, and Jessie went back to soothe the wounded cook. Emma had no idea how Wyatt interacted with others, what he was like in a group, or if her friends would accept socializing with a ghost, but all her concerns were unwarranted. By the time they all sat around the table with heaping plates of chili cheese fries, Wyatt was a believer in the 'upgrade,' and the conversation jumped from one laugh to another.

It started with Wyatt's bald face mask that Jessie begged him to lend her next Halloween. They both thought it made the whole invisible thing easier to handle, but Emma struggled, knowing it covered the beautiful man she could now see. Once everyone figured out how to pace themselves to give Wyatt time to type his thoughts, Jessie carried the evening like the pro people person she was. It helped that she had known him since high school. She was four years younger and just starting her freshman year when he was a senior, but that just made the stories funnier.

They quickly figured out Emma was the baby of the group, but that meant a lot less as adults. Cam had moved here from Montana when she was fifteen and was three years younger than Jessie, so all their antics from back in the day were new to her as well.

"If I remember reading it correctly, your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it, Wyatt?" Cam asked.

"Yes. May nineteenth," he typed.

"Ah, a taurus. Makes so much sense. What about you, Emma?" Jessie asked.

"Oh, um. Mines passed."

"All of ours have passed," Cam smirked. "But wouldn't you know they come back every year. You're evading the question as usual."

"December eleventh," she said quietly.

"Sagittarius," Jessie mused. "I would not have guessed that. You two aren't a common pairing, but given your background and personality, you're perfect for him. You transcend the stars."

"You said that about me and Wick," Cam grumbled. "Load of shit if you ask me."

"You're a Scorpio, and he's a Capricorn. It should have been perfect," Jessie sighed, clearly having this conversation before.

"Perfect it was not. Competitive, argumentative, arrogant, obnoxious..."

"A match made in heaven," the tablet voice interrupted, making Emma and Jessie laugh.

"What about you, Jess?" Emma asked.

"August twentieth, all Leo, baby," she grinned.

"And what does a Leo need?"

"I'm looking for sexy, smart, not living with his parents, and an Aries would be nice."

"Mike is an Aries," Wyatt typed out with a shrug.

"Is he now?" Cam asked, jumping on the statement with too much enthusiasm.

"What do I not know?" Emma asked.

"I don't know either, little bird," Wyatt said, looking between the two girls.

"Pft, nothing. Cam is just being Cam," Jessie grumbled.

"Right," Emma drawled, with a side smirk.

"Cam being Cam would mean she would open her mouth and tell the whole room that someone had a crush..."

"Stop, stop, stop," Jessie yelled, throwing a fry across the table.

"A crush on Mike? When?" Wyatt typed.

"Ugh," Jess growled, dropping her head to the table. "This is so embarrassing."

"Since freshman, sophomore, junior, senior, oh wait every year since then," Cam disclosed with a smug look. "This is what you get for meddling in other people's love lives."

"Does he know?" Emma asked with a dreamy smile.

"God, no. He's Michael Landers. You think I'm going to tell the oyster mogul that I drew hearts with our names when I was thirteen?"

"And fifteen. And twenty. And yesterday," Cam teased.

"Shut up. That last part isn't true. Well, not yesterday or in years."

"Why years?" Wyatt typed, hoping it didn't have to do with his death.

"He inherited his father's million-dollar company. I inherited a dive bar. He comes in wearing suits, and I serve him. Then he married that bitch, and well, I just let it all go."

"He also divorced that bitch," Cam added with a sympathetic shrug.

"I know. But he's still a single dad who is way out of my league."

"That's so not true. The league part," Emma jumped in. "Mike is lonely. He's been ostracized by the whole town, lost half his company, and spends all his time with employees who mistrust him and a four-year-old who worships him. You would be a shining light in his life, if that's something you still wanted."

"My girl is right. You should go for it. Mike also has a thing for Latinas, but you did not hear that from me."

"You're Latina?" Emma asked, feeling silly that she didn't know.

"Where did you think all this color came from?" she teased, stroking her forearm.

"The sun," Cam deadpanned.

They all settled in the living room with Cam's contribution, a cinnamon coffee cake from Maggie's, and the tone of the evening changed.

"We got the results back on that paint sample," Cam said, her face tight.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, noticing Cam's discomfort.

"The PDQ database turned up four possible options, one of which was a 2018, Chevy Silverado 1500, deep ocean blue metallic paint."

"Okay?" Emma said confused.

"LT Z71?" the robotic voice asked, causing Emma to look his way. Wyatt's face was drawn and tension lined his shoulders.

"That would be my guess," Cam stated.

"I'm lost," Emma admitted.

"I drove that same truck when I was alive," Wyatt told her.

"Who got your truck?" Jessie asked, already knowing what they were talking about.

"Taylor," he said at the same time as Cam.

"But I've never seen anything other than his BMW," Emma said. "Where would he keep it?"

"Anywhere," Cam shrugged. "He left around midnight. We left after three. There was plenty of time for him to sober up a bit, or possibly drink more, and go get it."

"So you think he handled this himself? Without notifying the Colacurcios?" Jessie asked.

"That would be the best outcome in this situation. We can handle Taylor, but if the whole Seattle crime family decided to get involved, we'd be screwed."

"You really think Taylor would try and kill me?" Emma asked, stunned.

"If he believed you were about to out his involvement in his brother's murder, yes," Cam said.

All three girls jumped when Wyatt's clothes deflated in the armchair.

"What the fuck just happened?" Cam asked, her eyes round.

"I believe Wyatt just teleported to wherever his brother might be."

"Well, shit," Jessie huffed. "Girl, talk then. How you doing with him? Having him back? Getting the tangible version?"

"I feel like it's a dream that I'm going to wake up from at any moment."

Wyatt went directly to Taylor's house and regretted it instantly when he saw him sprawled on the couch with a bottle in one hand and a brunette on her knees. His eyes were so glazed and bloodshot, it was a wonder he could keep it up. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen his brother looking this rough, even after his own death.

Reaching over the woman, Wyatt snagged the bottle that was about to fall and chucked it against the wall, shattering glass behind them. The woman screamed, looking up with a face streaked with mascara and smeared lipstick.

"What the fuck, Taylor?"

"Get out of here, Irene," he ordered, looking around the room. "I've got business to attend to."

"It's not my fault you're too drunk to get off."

"No, but it is your fault you can't suck dick to save your life. Now, get the fuck out of here."

"Fuck you, Taylor," she yelled, slamming the door behind her.

"Hello, Wyatt. Where ya been?" Taylor slurred with hate in his eyes.

Rage, betrayal, sadness, and grief were a heady cocktail in Wyatt's mind at the moment, and it came out in destructive ways when he grabbed the fireplace stoker and smashed Tay's enormous flat screen.

"What the fuck, man! Do you have any idea how much that cost?"

Wyatt dipped his fingers in the substantial amount of ash in Tay's fireplace and wrote 'WHY' on his white wall.

"Why what?"

'EMMA'

"All this for a mousey piece of ass. Can you even touch her? Fuck her? Does your dick still work? Bet you can't even get the cheap suck I just had," he mocked, and Wyatt slammed the poker into his DVR.

"Break one more thing, so help me God, Wyatt I will find a way to make you suffer. Emma is a nosy little bitch who needs to mind her own fucking business. If you're mad I slammed her into the wall and told her as much, then get over yourself. She deserved it."

'TRUCK'

"What truck? Get out of my fucking house. I need to finish what you interrupted," he growled, pushing up and stumbling to the bathroom.

Wyatt went back home, and Emma's eyes landed on him the second he appeared in their living room.

"Everything okay?" she asked, interrupting whatever Jessie was saying.

"He admitted to confronting you at the bar but denied or rather played dumb about the accident. I'm honestly not sure. He was so drunk he could barely stand."

"What do you need?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you look really upset, so what do you need?"

"You," he replied easily with a purse of his lips.

"Okay. Cam do you mind moving to the chair?"

"Actually, I should probably get going. What did Wyatt find?"

"A very drunk Taylor who acted like he knew nothing about it."

"Sounds about right," she huffed.

"I should go too. I'm working a double tomorrow. Tyler called in sick... again," Jessie sighed. "If you know any decent bartenders who want dayshift, send them my way."

"Everyone I know is in this room," Emma grinned.

"Right. Never mind then. Same time next week?"

"I'm good with that," Cam agreed.

"Can't really go anywhere for a bit, so I would be grateful if you two don't mind hanging here."

"Remember you said that," Jessie teased as they gathered their things and said goodbye to Wyatt.

"You really think your brother tried to kill me?" Emma asked when they were alone.

"I honestly don't know. I'm not sure I know anything anymore," he sighed, leaning her back on his chest.

"You know I love you," she said, threading her fingers through his.

"Yeah, little bird, I know that. And I know I love you right back."

Everyone slipped into a rhythm, much of which revolved around Emma's physio and recovery. River had taken up his role as care giver and physical support, both he and Wyatt always there before Emma ever asked. The doctor had given her a walking boot that was mandatory for the first two weeks and suggested for as long as needed. Wyatt didn't like letting her walk at all, but he knew it was necessary for her healing. He felt better when Katie brought River a guide dog harness with a steel handle Emma could use for balance. Unfortunately, his overprotective side was also at an all-time high, and he got grouchy any time she walked without him nearby.

Emma didn't really mind his overbearing attitude. She had never had that with anyone before, and knowing it came from a place of concern made her feel his love even more. They had been in this dance of discovering each other all over again, which is why Emma easily realized how nervous he was come Sunday. Wyatt hadn't been thrilled that she invited Mike and his son over to the house, but he didn't say much about it either.

"It's going to be fine," she said for the hundredth time. "I guarantee he's just as nervous as you are. He loves you. He misses you. And I really think you both need this healing."

"And I really think this is the last time you mess with my life when it doesn't involve you," he sulked.

"Absolutely," she lied, and judging by his unimpressed glower, Wyatt knew it.

"Let me get the door," she said, pushing to her feet at the sound of the knock.

Wyatt rushed over to help her, but Emma was already hobbling to the front with a dutiful River at her side. Giving Wyatt the same help he once gave her when his brother had shown up uninvited, she flipped the lock, glanced his way, then slowly turned the knob. Being childish, Wyatt had refused to wear anything that made him visible, so she wasn't sure why he was hiding behind the door, but she said nothing.

"Hey, Emma," Mike greeted. "You look good." He was clearly nervous and at a loss for anything more, so Emma decided she would definitely have to interfere a little bit longer.

"Thanks. Healing up pretty well. Where's Wyatt?"

"I was going to ask the same thing."

"He's... nervous. I offered to, um, break the ice."

"He's hiding from me," Mike stated flatly.

"Um, did you bring little Wyatt?" Emma deflected.

"He's in the car. Please, don't scare my boy. He's the only thing I've ever done right, and I'm not convinced this is right."

"Wyatt would never, and you know I won't," Emma said softly, inwardly irritated that Mike would even think that about his friend. Seemed she was a bit overprotective as well.

"Okay," he said, looking over his shoulder at his Tahoe and beeping the key fob.

The back door flew open, and a blaze of color came darting towards the house. Emma's eyes went huge as she realized her leg couldn't take the impact, but Mike scooped him up before he made contact. Side by side they looked so much alike with strong features and bright hazel eyes. Little Wyatt's fine white hair was clearly from Lisa, but his smile was all Mike.

"Puppy," he yelled, holding out a bouquet of sunflowers that had taken a bit of a beating.

"Those are beautiful. Are they for me?"

"Yup. Daddy says you're sick. You don't look sick."

"I hurt my leg. See," she said looking down. "The doctor is making me wear this special shoe."

"Can I get one too, Daddy?"

"We'll see," he said, with a soft grin. "Sorry. We went for ice cream, so he's a little hyper."

"I don't mind at all. Come on in," she said, moving back with River and a wide-eyed ghost who was staring at the boy in his best friend's arms.

Mike stepped in still unsure and slowly put the squirming four-year-old down. As expected, the loving child launched himself at River, burying his face and hands in the long, thick fur around the dog's neck. Mike warily watched the giant dog, but River loved all things young and small, treating the child with the same care that he did with wounded humans or puppies. Emma didn't quite know how to get Mike to relax or bring up the fact that his friend was standing right next to them. Oddly, it wasn't left up to her.

"Who is he?" little Wyatt asked, pointing to the man only Emma could see.

"I told you not to scare my boy," Mike growled, his anger rising fast.

"He's not scarewy, Daddy. He's sad." Mike's face softened a bit, but he still clung to his son, keeping him away.

"You can see him, Wyatt?" Emma asked.

"He's wight there," the boy said like she was crazy.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt apologized, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would a kid be able to see me?"

"Because you're wight there," little Wyatt sighed impatiently with his hands on his hips.

"You hear him, too?"

"Did you hurt your head, Emma?" the boy asked quite seriously, and Emma choked on a laugh.

"You must be a very special boy because most people can't see or hear him. He's magic."

"Wow!" Wyatt breathed, his hazel eyes going round. "Can I touch him?"

Emma's eyes flicked to Mike who looked nervous, then over to Wyatt who shrugged.

"You can try to shake his hand, but sometimes he becomes untouchable. Do you want to try?" Emma asked, looking at Mike while she said it.

He reluctantly let go of his son, and Emma couldn't stop the smile that came when the young boy marched right up to Wyatt and stuck out his hand. That same courage was not mirrored in the man as he nervously glanced at Emma before holding out his own. Wyatt's shocked gasp made Emma chuckle when it was clear the two had connected and now shook in greeting.

"He's not un-bunchable."

"Mike, was there a time when you, um, when you almost l-o-s-t your son?"

"Yes," he breathed in shock. "At birth. The longest eighteen seconds of my life."

"When someone has crossed that barrier and returned, he becomes just as real as you or me."

"Is that why you now see him? Hear him?"

"Yeah," she whispered, looking back down at the boot.

"Hey, little man. Do you want to know who that is?" Mike asked.

"Who is he?"

"That's who you're named after. He's the greatest friend in the world," Mike said, his voice breaking.

"Weally?" The boy squealed with delight and wrapped himself around Wyatt's legs just as he always did to Emma.

Her eyes burned with happy tears when she watched Wyatt's face crumple as he held the boy.

"He hugs like you, Daddy," the boy said, running back to Mike.

"I bet he does," Mike said with a sad smile.

"I have an idea," Emma said. "Why don't Wyatt, River, and I go play in the den. I'm sure you have lots of really cool toys in that bag," she said, motioning to the Lego backpack on Mike's shoulder.

"Yes, yes, yes. Can we Daddy? Can we?"

Mike looked confused as Emma picked up the tablet and handed it over to the empty space beside her.

"You two can talk. Just follow the tablet," Emma smirked, taking the boy's hand as he dragged her back through the house.

"Wyatt?" Mike said tentatively when they reached the kitchen.

Wyatt had set the tablet on the counter, but Mike's eyes moved quickly when the refrigerator door opened and two cans of Pabst went floating by. Wyatt headed back over to the table and took a seat, sliding the other beer to the chair across from him. Eating and drinking in front of Emma with nothing on had been embarrassing, but he had a feeling his old friend would find this funny as hell.

Popping open the can, he took a long swallow, and Mike's jaw dropped as he watched the beer leave the can and slide down in a straight line. He immediately looked under the table, and Wyatt leaned back so his friend could see the liquid disappearing in thin air. That was all it took. Mike roared with laughter.

"I usually wear clothes and a face mask to hide it," the digital voice said from the tablet.

"Holy shit. This is unreal. Guessing Emma set you up with that," Mike said, nodding to the tablet.

"She did," the A.I. voice answered.

"She's pretty great. I'm so happy you have her. Good use of technology, too," he smirked. "I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you thought I could kill you!"

"I'm sorry for that. We fought and the next day I died with only the image of a tall guy with dark hair."

"And your first thought was me," Mike said sadly without accusation. He knew exactly why his friend would assume that.

"I'm really sorry," Wyatt wrote.

"Nah, man. It's okay. Everyone's first thought was me. I really can't believe I'm here talking to you. It's like you're back from the dead."

"I promise, I'm still dead."

Mike snorted. "I never thought I'd get this chance. I'm the one who's fucking sorry. Our last conversation has haunted me for nearly six years. I told her no, man. Not until you could see what I felt and wouldn't hate me for following my heart."

"I would have come around. Just didn't get the time," Wyatt typed.

"I'm just glad we got time, now."