After my first full month back in Darlington, I can officially say I've gone through utter hell. Working long shifts at The Starlighter and having to be around Wyatt all the time has been torture. Loretta kept telling me to try, but how am I supposed to try with him? Regardless of whether or not he's engaged to someone he shouldn't, he's still engaged. I don't want to cross a line. No matter how much I may want to.

But Loretta makes that difficult as hell. Today, she told Wyatt to work on the wall that will eventually separate the dining room and the kitchen, but in order to do that, Wyatt needed concrete, and the boys who normally work with him were off today. It was just him, but Loretta didn't seem phased by that news. Something told me she already knew he'd be working alone today.

"Take Macey," she suggested.

"Absolutely not," he replied.

I stood by the kitchen door ten minutes to open, crossing my arms over my chest in annoyance. He acted like being around me for a mere second was going to kill him. It was ridiculous. He was acting like a two-year-old.

"She's another body, and yer takin her."

"I'm not takin her," Wyatt said. "I don't need any help. I can get the concrete my damn self."

Finally losing my shit, I pushed open the door to the kitchen to separate myself from both of them, gripping the chopping block and hanging my head between my shoulders. I knew Wyatt didn't want to be around me. I knew it brought up everything he probably worked so hard to forget. At the end of the day, I had to respect that. He had every right to cut me out of his life.

But then the kitchen door swung open, and Wyatt came up beside me, heaving out a sigh. Whatever Loretta told him must have persuaded him because he said, "Let's go."

So now I'm following him out to his truck— the truck we have so many memories in—and trying not to pass out. August still isn't forgiving in South Carolina, but it's not as sticky as July. My shorts aren't plastered to my thighs today, and sweat isn't forming on my back as it normally does.

"I swear to God if you touch that handle, Macey," he growls and takes two large steps in front of me, throwing open the door before I can get to it. My heart bottoms out, my pulse beating rapidly, and it has nothing to do with what he just said. The chocolate stain I made all those years ago is still on his passenger side seat. He could have gotten it cleaned. He could have gotten it removed. But it's still there. Prominent as ever.

Tears are threatening to pour on my cheeks, but I keep them inside, not wanting him to know just how sad I am. That stain means more to me than he'll ever know. He was the first one to show me that it was okay to make mistakes. Something my mother never let me do.

"Get inside," he says, but his tone is softer. He sees the stain too, and he knows how important it is. I told him how important it was to me. He either didn't have enough money to get it fixed, which is highly doubtful since he owns the farm now, or he cared enough to leave it there.

"You kept—"

"Please get inside, Mace," he begs.

I don't want to upset him, especially since he just called me Mace, so I drop it and climb inside, reaching to put my seatbelt on. It's not darlin yet, but maybe we'll get there.

He's engaged. Warning bells sound off in my head, but I ignore them.

During the first ten minutes of the drive, we ride in silence minus the quiet country song that's pulsing through the speakers. I'm not sure what to talk to him about, or if he even wants to talk to me about anything, so rather than make conversation, I take a couple of glances at him, smiling at the familiarity of it all.

He's still the same boy, but he's a man now. His stubble replaces his formerly bare chin, and where this truck used to swallow him whole, now it looks like he owns it. His body fully takes up the seat, his thigh pressing against the side of the gear shift from being so fit. The windows are rolled down, and the wind is whipping through his dirty blonde hair, his white t-shirt rippling with the breeze. I could stare at him forever and never get tired of it.

"How's your Dad?" He asks.

I blink a few times to actually register the fact that he's speaking to me and it's not telling me to get out of the way or to leave him alone.

"Uh, good!" I reply too quickly, and I see a smile threaten to appear on his lips. "He's good. He moved to Philadelphia after he met a woman through work on a business trip, but he's happy. Really happy. And he's retired now, so he's not working all of those long hours. Remember when there would be days when he'd be gone until like, midnight?" I'm rambling, and Wyatt still hasn't smiled, but his eyes are twinkling. That familiar spark is back in them.

"And you? Was New York everything you remembered it to be?" There's a sarcastic ring to his tone, but again, I can't blame him for that, so I don't get upset.

"It was...tough. I graduated with a degree in fashion design, but haven't been able to do much with it. I was working at a retail store before Loretta asked me to help out, but I got fired...so...I took her up on it. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

He nods thoughtfully like he's really listening to what I'm saying. Just a few minutes ago at The Starlighter he acted like he didn't want to be in my presence, and now he's asking about my Dad and my life in New York.

"But, how are you doing? Loretta tells me you took over the farm."

He nods, the pain etched on every inch of his face. It breaks my heart into two, and in seconds, I'm blinking away my own tears. "I'm so sorry about your Dad, Wyatt. Loretta told me. If I had known..."

"If you had known then what? You would have come to the funeral?"

I send him a look of disbelief. "Of course, I would have come to the funeral. I would have taken the first flight out to be there for you, and if you think I wouldn't have, then you clearly don't know me as well as I thought you did."

"I don't know you as well as I thought I did," he seethes. "That was already proven, so excuse me for having some doubts."

"Okay, is this how it's going to be from now on? You're going to throw it in my face every chance you get? Jesus, Wyatt, I get you're pissed, but can't you just throw your opinions of me to the side for one hour so we don't have to fucking fight for once?"

He remains silent, his knuckles white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel.

"It's not like we'll ever get back together, so there's no need to continuously try and belittle me. What happened is over and done with. I can't change it no matter how much I may want to, and I've accepted that you're married now. You don't have to worry about—"

"I'm engaged," he clarifies. "Not married."

As if there's a difference.

"Regardless, I've accepted it. You won't have to worry about me making a move on you again. You can hate me all you want, but please, can we at least be cordial for one goddamn day?"

He scoffs, but he doesn't scold me anymore, so I'm taking that as his version of an agreement as he pulls onto the familiar dirt path that leads to his farm. We've driven down this road together more times than I can count. So many moments happened for us on this farm, so it's not a surprise that Loretta told us to come here together. She knew what she was doing.

I step out of the truck and breathe in deeply, smiling at the familiar scent of cow manure and hay. To some, it's gross, but to me, it's truly the greatest smell in the world. I've missed it here so much. Way more than I thought I did.

"I'm goin to the shed to grab the concrete," he mutters. "I'll be back."

"You don't need any help?" I ask.

With a scowl and a roll of his eyes he says, "No, Macey, I'm not lettin you carry a heavy bucket of concrete. I'll be back."

My heart swoons, completely swoons even as he stalks off angrily toward the shed. He's so tall and muscular now that I don't even recognize him anymore. I want to know what it feels like to be in his arms again. I want to feel those large hands under my thighs. I want to know what it feels like to have him inside of me again.

I really need to relax. It's not my fault though. I haven't had sex in a little over a year. The last guy was a one-night stand, and he was average at best. I haven't had a real connection during sex with anyone since Wyatt.

Rather than wait for him to come back, I head for the stables, which are just past the shed. The familiar chandelier comes into view when I push the heavy doors out of the way, and I get the biggest smile on my face when a muzzle with a patch shaped like Texas is sticking out of one of the stalls.

"Dolly girl," I whisper, practically sprinting to get over to her. This horse and I became so close during my time in Darlington senior year. So close that Wyatt started calling her my horse. He said he'd never seen her so comfortable with someone before, and truthfully, I felt the same with her. We understood each other in a way I couldn't describe to anyone. "God, I missed you."

I kiss her muzzle, and she snorts in approval, nuzzling against my cheek. "What?" I laugh. "Oh, you want some sugar cubes, don't you?"

The location for them hasn't changed. I find the mason jar on the familiar shelf and grab two, holding them out to Dolly with the palm of my hand. "You get two since it's been so long," I tell her. "Don't tell Wyatt, okay? He'll kill me."

The pigs from the nearby pigpen are going crazy. More than likely because they hear me in here and know that means it's time for their feeding. Well, it used to mean that. I'm assuming their feeding schedule hasn't changed since the last time I was here.

Letting out a sigh, I head over to where all the boots are and tug on the same pink ones from eight years ago that I always used to wear. Then I grab their bucket of food and haul it toward the pigpen. "You are so noisy, guys," I say and walk to the trough.

"What are you doin?"

I jump at Wyatt's voice behind me, and the food dumps out of the bucket entirely, meaning the pigs will be overfed. Scrambling to get the bucket, I hold onto the handle and take a large gulp. "They were hungry," I say.

He glances up and down my body, eyeing his mother's boots on my feet, then clenches his jaw again. Fuck. I shouldn't have done this. We aren't dating anymore. It's not my place.

"I'm sorry," I continue. "It was a stupid decision. I was visiting Dolly, and I—"

He raises the mason jar in the air. "Gave her sugar cubes?"

"She deserved them," I reply and join him on the other side of the pigpen. Together, we head back to the stables to put the bucket of food and sugar cubes away.

"You always said she deserved them," he mutters.

"Because she does."

The sun is beaming down on us, and I'm grateful when we're shaded again by the stables. Wyatt puts the sugar cubes back and watches as I step out of his mother's boots, lining them neatly up by the door as if I never touched them. Even though it's shaded in here, the humidity is almost unbearable. I take the bottom of my tank top to wipe my forehead of the sweat that's formed, and my heart stops when a groan slips out of Wyatt's mouth.

He's staring at the exposed skin of my stomach, so I quickly pull the fabric back into place, my cheeks flaming red and the wetness between my thighs gathering all too quickly. I haven't heard a groan like that, his groan, in way too long.

"Hey! I—" Caroline freezes in the entryway of the barn, glancing between the both of us. She can feel the tension because she clears her throat and says, "Sorry... Was I interrupting something?"

"No," I blurt out. The last thing I would want is for Wyatt to lose another girl he cares about. I don't want to be the cause of his pain for anything else. "We just came to get concrete for Loretta. She sent us both."

Caroline's nose wrinkles with disapproval. I take it she doesn't like her. "Well, the concrete is in the shed, not the stables."

As if I don't know that. As if I don't know every nook and cranny of this place.

"Right. I know. I was just saying hello to Dolly."

Caroline purses her lips and walks over to pet Dolly, running her fingers through her mane. "She's such a good girl, ain't she? My girl is the prettiest horse there is."

I gulp at her words. "She's yours?"

No. There's no way Wyatt would do that to me. My fists are clenched at my sides, and Wyatt can't take his eyes off me. He's analyzing every move I make, regret seeping into his eyes before Caroline even replies.

"Yeah. Wyatt said she did really well with females when we first met, and ever since then, she and I have bonded real well. It wasn't long after that til Wyatt said she was mine. Although, she's not a fan of gettin her hooves cleaned for whatever reason. Strange thing."

It feels like a dagger has just stabbed my chest. I know I'm not Caroline. I'm not a country girl. I don't know how to clean hooves, or saddle her up correctly, or anything remotely related to horses, but when I rode her, I felt a connection that was undeniable, and for the first time, I felt genuinely understood. I can't believe Wyatt would tell her that she belonged to anyone else except for me.

Didn't I leave for eight years though? I abandoned Dolly. It was about time that she spent time with someone else, and if Caroline did that, then I'm happy Dolly had someone to ride her and love and care for her. Caroline and her perfect braid. Caroline and her perfect body in a plaid shirt and ripped jean shorts. Caroline in her cowgirl hat. A southern belle. A girl I will never match up to.

"Mace..." Wyatt takes a step closer to me, and that's when I feel the hot sting of my tears. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for this. Maybe I deserved it after what I did to him, sure, but I won't forgive him. I can't.

"Darlin, are you okay?" Caroline asks. And I completely lose it. I've tried so hard to remain calm for the past month, but I've reached a breaking point. And the worst part is that I can't say a damn thing because no matter how much I cry, no matter how much I yell, the outcome will remain the same.

"Please, don't call me that. Please never call me that again," I say and push past her, stalking off toward his truck. Caroline is asking Wyatt why we were in the barn in the first place as I trudge down the path. She's accusing him of something he didn't do. Yet again, if I caught my fiance with his ex in a barn, I'd probably react the same way. Especially if said ex just started crying.

"Macey!" Wyatt calls out. I ignore him and push my limbs as hard as possible to get to his truck. I want to forget any fucking shred of hope I thought was possible between us. "Macey, slow the hell down!" He yells. I hear his footsteps pick up on the gravel, and then he's running, gripping my arm to spin me to face him.

I'm full on sobbing at this point, unable to hide my tears any longer, but I can't sit here and explain to him how I feel because fucking Caroline is standing outside of the stables watching our conversation unfold. I'm not going to let her see me like this. I'm not going to put Wyatt in a position to lose her.

"I-I just need to go back to The Starlighter," I say. "Please just take me back there."

"Mace. Stop." He grabs my arm when I try to open the door of his truck. "Look at me."

"I don't want to look at you, Wyatt! I want to fucking go. Now."

Caroline disappears back into the stables, and when Wyatt realizes this, he grips my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. The breath gets sucked out of my body at the desperation in his gaze, and when his thumb brushes my bottom lip, the tears just flow harder. "Mace, I'm sorry," he whispers. "I know she meant a lot to you."

It was more than just Dolly though. This farm meant a lot to me. Dolly meant a lot to me. The pigs meant a lot to me. He meant a lot to me. And now I have to watch another girl live out my dream that I stupidly gave up because I thought I was tainted by love. I thought I was too wrapped up in Wyatt to chase my dreams, so I did something to let him go when I shouldn't have. I should have stayed. And I should have fought. And I should have come back as soon as I realized that life wasn't the same without him in it.

"Mace," he whispers again, his voice cracking as tears well up in his eyes, too. I know that he's reading my mind. I've never had to tell him how I'm feeling because one look in my eyes tells him everything he needs to know, and right now, he can tell just how sorry I am. Just how badly I fucked up. "She's still yours, okay? I never thought she was anyone else's. But you were gone, and I..."

I wipe away more tears, biting hard on my bottom lip. "You moved on, and that's okay. I would have been mad if you didn't. You deserve someone like Caroline, and I'm not going to stand in your way because I want the best for you, Wyatt, even if that means I'm not included in the picture."

He strums the area on my lip I was just biting, and then he moves his hand to cup my cheek, brushing the skin with the pad of this thumb. His eyes soften, and I can see his pulse thrumming rapidly in his throat.

"Wyatt," I warn, snapping him out of it. "Take me back to The Starlighter. Please."

When he realizes he almost just tried to kiss me, he takes a large step back and lets out a frustrated sigh. He inhales deeply through his nose, then runs his hands over his face before he grabs the keys out of his jeans pocket. Any ounce of the old Wyatt I saw just moments ago has been replaced with stone again, and now he's back to his brooding, miserable self.

Great.

We're right back to square one.

A/N:

OMG

I CANNOT

I LOVE THEM SM

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