I wake up to bright lights, wincing at the sheer pain it brings to my eyes. There's a monitor beeping soundly beside me, and when I lift my arm to cover my face, I feel a needle sticking inside of it. I groan and throw my head back on the pillow.

Great.

The hospital.

Everything that happened before I passed out begins to flood back into my head. Wyatt and his new wife? Fiance? One of the two. I have a fucking migraine from trying to process all of the hurt and feelings swarming inside of my chest, but before I can contemplate them for long, I hear movement beside my bed.

Loretta is tapping her foot on the floor, arms crossed over her chest. "Are ya gonna eat now, or what?"

"Oh my god," I groan, not even caring that I'm talking back to her. "Can you just be nice to me for one second? Please? And for the record, I don't want to speak to you right now."

"And why is that?"

"Because you knew! You knew he was married and didn't tell me. You've been placing these false hopes in my head that we could fix things and we fucking can't, Loretta! There's no coming back from this in a town that gossips for a damn living. You knew, and you didn't tell me. Why?"

She points to the table beside my bed that has a turkey sandwich on it wrapped in plastic. "I'll explain when ya eat."

Grabbing the sandwich hastily off the table, I unwrap it and take an angry bite, earning a satisfied grin from her. "Wyatt ain't married yet. He's engaged. And that girl he's with..." She shakes her head. "She ain't the one."

"Oh, come on. Did you see her? She's the perfect southern belle he's been waiting his whole life for. He wanted someone to go to church with every Sunday. He wanted a girl that knew her way around a farm, and we both know that isn't me. He may have made me fall in love with the country lifestyle, but no matter how much I try to fit the mold, I can't."

"She may seem like a southern belle, but I can see straight through it. Knew somethin was off when he brought her round for the first time. I did some investigatin and found out her parents are investors. They damn near own half of main street. Rumor has it, they're wantin to build more property."

"And what's so bad about that?"

Loretta leans forward and places her elbows on her knees. "Because expandin' means takin' land off of Wyatt's farm."

I wrinkle my nose up in confusion. "Wyatt's? The farm is his now? I thought his parents owned it?"

She points to the sandwich again, so I roll my eyes and take another bite. "Bill got diagnosed with cancer three years ago and passed last year. His mother turned it over to him."

Gulping loudly, tears are pricking into the backs of my eyes at this newfound information, and the desire to go to Wyatt and wrap him in the biggest embrace is almost unbearable. I remember going over to his parents house for dinner and relishing how animated his dad always got as he told stories about Wyatt as a little kid. He was so loving, and he was proud of Wyatt and everything he did.

"I had no idea," I whisper.

"And Caroline didn't even go to the damn funeral. That just shows ya how much she cares."

"Did you tell Wyatt this information? Does he know that her parent's just want some of his land to expand into?"

She gives me a pointed look. "Do ya not know me? Of course I spoke my mind. I don't allow her ass to go inside The Starlighter. Ya know how Wyatt is though. Stubborn as a damn bull. He don't wanna believe it."

It hurts to know that he's still deciding to stay with Caroline after finding out this information. It means he must genuinely care for her, and the thought eats away at me. I haven't cared for anyone in the way that I do for Wyatt, but I guess I'm not expecting him to feel the same way after what I did.

"He hates me," I tell her. "It doesn't matter if Caroline is using him to get what her parents want. Today, he looked at me like..." I choke back tears. "Like he wished he never met me, and I want to follow through with this favor to you, but working around him is so fucking hard, Loretta. Knowing he'd be happier if I wasn't here..." I sigh as she takes out her phone and passes it over to me. There are three text messages from Wyatt.

Is Macey okay?

Then, ten minutes later.

Loretta, why aren't you answering?

Thirty minutes after that.

????

"For someone who wished you never existed, he certainly does care a lot," she says with a smile. "Keep tryin, Macey."

_______________

For the next three days, Loretta forced me to stay in bed to rest. She even gave me access to her sewing room, which I didn't even know she had. There was so much fabric in here to work with that if I wasn't mistaken, she should have been a fashion designer herself. Still, the thought of Wyatt and his impending marriage wouldn't leave my head, and I couldn't bring myself to create anything. After all, Loretta was so busy shoving food down my throat that I don't think I would have found the time to.

I'm finally back at work, and it's a busy Saturday night. Being that The Starlighter is the only bar and restaurant in town, everyone comes out to drink and party. I've been so swept away by my customers that I've tuned out the loud music entirely, too focused on getting someone another drink or a new batch of fries.

My hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and all I'm wearing are a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt. Truthfully, I would cover up more, but it's so damn hot outside that I have no choice but to wear the least amount of clothing I can.

Thankfully, Wyatt has been inside the restaurant all day to try and continue the renovations on the interior. I don't know what the hell he's doing, but I've stayed as far away from him as I can. Every thirty minutes or so he'd come out and chat with some of the customers who love him dearly, and I found his eyes lingering on me on multiple occasions. A part of me wondered if he was checking in on me to make sure I was doing okay, and the thought made my heart beat so fucking fast that it felt like it would explode.

But then I'd meet his eyes and they'd grow cold, so cold, and that thought completely vanished.

Nope. He still hates me.

"Wallace," I say happily as I approach him. He's run the local hardware store in town for as long as I can remember, and he's the type of person that just brings happy energy everywhere he goes. A tall black man with a bright smile, kind brown eyes and dreadlocks that reach the end of his back. "Pleasure seeing you here. What can I get you?"

"Macey Taylor!" He cheers, raising his glass to me. It's the first time someone has been excited to see that I'm back, and it makes me feel good. "It's about damn time you came back here. How ya doin, baby?"

"I'm good. Just helping Loretta out for the next couple of months until she can find some adequate staffing."

He nods thoughtfully. "Why aren't ya with Wyatt? Ain't he inside?"

My heart plummets into my stomach. There's no way Wallace doesn't know about what happened, right? The entire town was so used to seeing us together that there wasn't a Macey without a Wyatt or a Wyatt without a Macey. We were always together every hour of every given day, and just coming to the realization of how different things are hits me like a freight train. It'll never be like that again.

"He's fixing the inside up for Loretta," I tell him. "Busy at work." Because the alternative of telling him I broke his heart just isn't an option. I'd rather play it safe.

"Hmm." He considers thoughtfully, but eventually lets it go and turns to speak to the man next to him.

God, I miss him.

__________

At the end of my shift, I'm going through the closing routine in order to get out of here. All I have left to do is take the trash out, but as I'm rounding the back of the restaurant toward the dumpsters, I see three men smoking cigarettes beside it. I pause with the trash in my hand, trying to analyze the situation and how dangerous it is that there are three of them and one of me, but all they do is smile kindly and tip their hats, so I take that as my cue to continue toward the dumpster.

I should have known better, because as soon as I lift the lid, one of the men stares me up and down. "Ain't it illegal to dress so sexy for a waitress?"

The other man reaches out and touches the edge of my shorts, and I move away from his grasp. "Pretty little thing, ain't ya?"

I've been called that countless times here in Darlington, but never so disrespectfully. This man is saying it like he wants to take my clothes off. I always thought if I were in this situation that I'd tell them to back off or I'd chop their balls off, but there's three of them, and I don't know how I'll get away if I tried to escape. There's a lump in the back of my throat that's so large I can't seem to speak.

"Macey," a familiar voice calls from behind me. I turn my head to see Wyatt propping the back door open, eyes blazing at the three men. He's furious. "Come on."

I high tail it into the restaurant, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to steady myself. My entire body is shaking from the adrenaline rush, and just for a second, I think I might puke right into the trash can beside me.

"God dammit Macey, what is wrong with you?" Wyatt slams the door behind him and takes two large steps in front of me. "Don't you know better than that?"

"T-they didn't seem like they would hurt me at first," I try to explain. "I didn't think it'd get to that point."

"Well it did. Do you even know what could have happened to you?"

I cross my arms over my chest and glare up at him. "As if you care what happens to me."

His jaw ticks as he scans my face, and just from the mere expression alone, my body gets hot all over. He looks lethal. Pissed. Fuming. And in the odd, strange sense, I want him to pick me up and put me right on the counter, step in-between my legs and kiss the hell out of me.

"Is everything done?" He asks, completely ignoring my statement. He's panting heavily though, avoiding eye contact with me.

"Yes," I reply, but I can't look away from his chest. His t-shirt is clinging to it from the sweat, the outlines of his abs shining through. Paint is splattered all over it, looking messy and unkempt, and so...dirty.

Oh, god. I should not be thinking about this, but I am. I just can't get over how muscular he's become over the years. How different would he feel pressed against me? How much stronger would his thrusts feel inside of me?

Seconds pass that feel like hours, and I hold my breath when he takes a step closer, his eyes completely focused on my lips, almost like he can read my mind. I don't understand how he can be so mean to me one second, but then look like he wants to devour me the next. He hates me, but it seems like he wants to kiss me. A battle within his own mind, almost.

"I'm walkin you to your car," he mutters. "Come on."

I let out a breath when he leaves the kitchen, taking a second to gather myself before I follow out behind him. He's staring at my car with a look of disapproval. "You ride in this death trap?"

"It's been nothing but good to me," I say defensively. "What do you have against my Prius?"

"Nothin, it's just a city chick car." His lips twitch, and I swear I see the faintest hint of a smile, but it quickly fades when I open up my car door. He stares at me holding onto the handle, and his jaw clenches. Does that rule still stand about opening up my car door?

"For the record, I love my city chick car," I tell him. "It may be old, but it gets the job done."

After a few tries, the engine finally starts, and Wyatt visibly winces from how shitty it sounds. It's not the greatest running machine out there, but it hasn't failed me yet. I roll down my window and poke my head out. "Thank you for tonight. You know, for opening up that back door."

He places one hand on the hood and dips his head down to meet my gaze. I don't know what it is about us with cars, but damn, we can't seem to say goodbye when we're around one. I glance at his truck that's parked a couple spots beside me, and he looks over his shoulder, his body stiffening.

Fuck. He knows what I was just thinking about.

He used to do this exact thing when he'd drive me home. His hand would be on the hood of his truck, and he'd dip down to kiss me, and then I'd end up pulling him into the passenger side seat until his hands were roaming every single inch of my body. I never wanted to say goodbye.

I still don't.

My cheeks are hot when I clear my throat. "Goodnight, Wyatt."

His eyes don't leave mine, but reluctantly, he steps back and shoves his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "Night, Macey."

A/N:

THE TENSION

I JUST CANNOT

WHAT DID WE THINK?

HOW ARE WE FEELING?

PLEASE COMMENT & VOTE!!!!

Twitter: believeeexoxo
Instagram: deannafaison_
Tiktok: authordeannafaison_

<3