¸.·´¯·»Chapter Three«·´¯·.¸
¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»The Photograph«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸

The young man couldn't be sure if it was the rather offensive sunlight flittering through the half-open curtains or the incessant pounding within the confines of his own skull that caused him to reluctantly open his eyes. Whatever the reason was, he was now regretting the decision and wished that he could have just well enough alone and stayed asleep. It was pure and unadulterated agony that he was feeling and he thought that death might have been a much kinder fate. He vowed then and there that he would never drink again, or at least not to mix alcohol.

Being one of the owners of the hottest nightclub in town, he was no stranger to hangovers… but what in the world had possessed him to drink himself into oblivion last night? Honestly, he wasn't even sure he wanted to know because he already knew the most likely answer. And really, it would not be worth the agony he was putting his head through while attempting to remember—his head was already throbbing and he had no desire to make it ache even more. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

Almost instinctively he reached out to pull the coverlet up, intending to hide his blood-shot eyes beneath its relatively safe confines for as long as he possibly could. It didn't quite register that his bedroom window could not have possibly lit up his entire room like this because not only was it small and covered by the bushes of the backyard, seeing as his bedroom was in the basement, but he also had a west facing window. However as he pulled on the covers, his tired and wary mind did register the fact that he was met with a protest…

… of the vocal inclination.

Wyatt stilled his movements instantly, suddenly wide awake and acutely aware that whoever just moaned was most definitely not his fiancée—because his fiancée had a voice that sounded almost breathless no matter what she said and after dating her for nearly six years he knew exactly how all of her little sighs and moans and groans sounded, and this… this was softer, and nothing like her. This voice was even more feminine, so utterly soft and pleasant… but, once again, most definitely not his fiancée!

The young man closed his eyes in a grimace, his mind reeling. How could he have done this? Wyatt was no saint by any means, and he'd had his fair share of one night stands before… but if there was one thing he had always prided himself on, it was that when he committed to a woman, he never strayed. He was always faithful. So what in the hell was going on? He resisted the urge to bolt upright abruptly, to get away from… whoever this was... as quickly as possible. It would not only manage to send even more waves of agony throughout his skull but it would likely wake her.

Instead of following through with his initial reactions, he took a few moments to breathe, to calm himself before he slowly lifted his head slightly, blinking against the bright rays of the sun. Blue eyes were draw to the woman nestled comfortably against his side. The black satin sheets covered most of her undoubtedly bare body, tangled in them as she was, and her pale ivory skin contrasted beautifully with the material, as did her dark burgundy hair. He could only see a glimpse of her face at this angle—soft and lovely, though aristocratically detailed.

Wyatt felt his heart constrict painfully as the events of the past few days came back to the forefront of his mind, and he allowed his head to drop back onto the soft, feathery pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly with his free hand, and let out a long, heavy breath.

He felt horrible.

Not only did he feel shitfaced from apparently drinking the entire bar last night, he also felt like a right jerk because it took him at least ten minutes of lying in this position, deep in thought and wracking his brain, before he managed to remember the young woman's name. Brígh… it was such an unusual name, and an interesting one at that. He resisted the sudden urge to test how it sounded on his own tongue now that he was sober, though he stopped himself because speaking would only awaken the slumbering beauty tucked so close to him.

Not moments later did the young man bite his tongue to keep from groaning as the slim, feminine body pressed even closer to him, one tone leg sliding over his as her arm snaked over his bare chest. He clenched his eyes closed and attempted to think of unpleasant thoughts to stave off his body's involuntary reactions to her, because apparently other parts of him had no problem remembering her even if his brain had been reluctant.

Wyatt tried not to notice how her scent was intertwined so completely with his own—something subtle and undeniably sweet mixed with the sandalwood of his body soap, the taste of coconut and cherries still teasing his tastebuds. Her body was marked by him in almost every possible way, he realized as bits and pieces of their activities together came to him. It made him unexplainably possessive.

Every soft touch of her fair flesh again his own lightly tanned skin ignited a fire inside of him that was refusing to die down, and he knew that he had to get out of her reach before he felt the need to reenact everything he could scarcely recall about last night. Therefore he gently removed her arm from his chest and slid out from beneath her as slowly and quietly as possible, wanting to regain his control before he even attempted to wake her.

Normally after trysts like these he would leave without waking them, because the women he usually went home with were only after the mutual satisfaction and expected him to leave the next morning. On the rare occasion his partners had woken before him and instigated round two, though generally he tended to scout for women that expected him to leave so he could avoid this very situation. This was the awkward morning after, this is what he tried to avoid.

For some odd reason, though, he couldn't bring himself to treat this as just a one night stand. He had honestly only wanted to walk her home last night, because the streets could be dangerous and deadly and she had planned on walking alone. It went against his every instinct not to protect her. Not to mention he felt absolutely terrible for taking advantage of her drunken state—never mind the fact that he had been even more intoxicated than she had.

Wyatt watched with regretful eyes as Brígh curled up into the space he had just vacated, her face serene and content in a way he could remember last night. Her hair was a wild jungle of curls that tumbled over the pillow beneath her head, and he admired the vibrant color of it in the sunlight before he moved to shut the curtains to keep the light from disturbing her before he was ready. Ready to wake her, and then… well he wasn't exactly sure what he would do after that point.

Once he was absolutely certain that she would be comfortable, his bare feet padded quietly upon the mahogany floors as he sought out his clothing. He was able to locate his boxers and jeans easily enough but where his shirt remained was a mystery to him. Wyatt resisted to let out an impressed whistle as he continued the hunt for his shirt. The apartment looked like something is uncle would buy, and if anything could be said about his uncle, it was that the man had good tastes. The floors were all wooden, though there were ornate rugs in various places in the den, and the furniture was both comfortable and stylish. Some of the walls, particularly those surrounding the bedroom and the kitchen, were made of a type of glass brick that still obscured what was hidden behind it until they merely resembled vague shapes. As he had guessed, she must have been quite wealthy to live in a place such as this.

Finally giving up on the missing garment, he went off in search of the bathroom so he could relieve himself, and he thanked whatever deity listening that he was not nauseous, although the pounding in his head could use some respite. The young man was pleased to find that she had asprin in her medicine cabinet, and eagerly snatched up the bottle. Unfortunately it would be a while off before the effects of it would kick in. He found a plastic cup near the sink and filled it up with cool water, and took the bottle of medicine to the bedroom, setting them by the bedside table. He was just about to wake her, went he felt a buzz in his mind that had nothing to do with the remnants of last night's excursion.

Wyatt tensed slightly at the oddness of it though with what went on in his life he rarely found anything startling enough to scare him. He listened intently, somewhat expecting to hear a voice or something similar. For a moment he thought that he may have just imagined it, though he soon felt it again, and a frown worked its way onto his face. It wasn't a sound, exactly… more of a presence, and the more he concentrated, trying to pinpoint what it was and where it originated, the more his head ached. It was faint, almost nonexistent.

However the odd occurrence was soon forgotten as he heard the familiar trill of his cell phone, and he scrambled to find it before the loud, blaring ringtone woke Brígh. He was able to locate his jacket thanks to the annoying sound that currently made his head spin, and he quickly answered it before stumbling out of the bedroom quickly as he watched for any sign of movement. "What?" he answered quietly, before he was harshly reminded of the fact that he had not bothered to answer his phone for over four days now. He winched at the sound of his brother's concerned voice as the younger man demanded to know that if he was alright. He cursed the hangover for his sensitive eardrums as he tried to placate him with a simple, "I'm fine, Chris,"

"Fine? You're fine! Where the hell have you been, Wyatt?"

"… Chris,"

"I got a call last night saying that you were at the club, and another one that said you were there till about four this morning," his brother continued, concern and anger warring in his voice. "And I figured that meant that you would be home by now! Where are you? Do you know how worried everyone is? How worried I am? It's been four days, Wyatt… four days. And you didn't even have the decency to inform anyone that you were alright, or even still alive…"

Wyatt closed his eyes with remorse as his brother's voice tapered off, feeling even more guilty because Chris had lost the anger in his voice and was now quiet and solemn. Hurt. If there was one thing that Wyatt had always hated, was when his brother was hurting. And now he was the one hurting him, all because he had stubbornly refused to pick up a phone. "Chris…" he sighed heavily. "I was fine… am fine… I just really needed to take off for a few days. I'm sorry I worried you."

"… Don't do that again."

The conversation on the matter was far from over, and he was not forgiven by any means though Wyatt knew that Chris would drop the matter for now because that was just how he was. He would plan out the interrogation, and then he would strike hard and fast and Wyatt would break down and explain everything in detail. "I won't," he promised.

Chris sighed softly over the phone. "You need to come home,"

Wyatt glanced through the bedroom door uncertainly. "I… kind of need to take care of something first."

"Damn it, Wy," Chris cursed quietly. "Mom has been going out of her mind with worry. She even called in the calvary last night, and everyone is here. Everyone, including Gran and Grams, and you know that they will find a way to drag you here very, very soon. So I suggest you finish whatever it is you are doing in the next five minutes because they mean business. See you in a bit?"

"Yeah, Chris," Wyatt agreed softly. "See you in a bit." Guilt plagued him as he realized how much stress he had caused his family by his stunt—heaven knows they had enough of that to deal with without him adding to it. He closed the phone and tucked it away into his jacket before proceeding to pull the garment on. He felt horrible for what he was about to do before he had even finished deciding it, and silently entered the bedroom once more.

Wyatt felt worse than the scum of the underworld for what he was about to do, though honestly it was not something he had not done before. Just… this was the first time he would actually regret it. He knelt by the bed and brushed a soft ringlet away from her face as he studied her. He would make this up to her somehow, though how, he couldn't say. He leaned in closely and pressed a gentle, farewell kiss upon her temple, unbeknownst to him the gesture reminiscent of the way he had last night.

It was in that moment, when his lips grazed against her soft skin, that something strange occurred. And had his eyes been open or his head clear, he may have recognized what it meant. However by the time he pulled away and reopened his eyes, all was as it should be and he would have never guessed that anything significant or of consequence had just happened. He pulled away, leaving her alone in the room as he attempted to squash the remorse and shame he felt for it. As soon as he ensured that her front door was locked, to keep anyone from just waltzing in, his body was engulfed in a swirl of blue and white lights as a gentle sound akin to wind chimes filled the room. It was a spectacular, magical sight, beautiful and unreal, though all too soon the lights had vanished, and with them, so had the young man just as there was a cheerful knock on the apartment door.

The young man reappeared moments later in a completely different location. His body had reformed at its destination in the same way it had disintegrated, and soon he was standing in the attic of the ancestral home of his family, which was often affectionately referred by them all as the manor. He arrived in the attic, which was very large and housed a majority of the items they used to practice their magic, for that is what their family was. Magical. Chests lined the walls full of weaponry such as maces and knives, cabinets filled with various scented and unscented candles, dried herbs and empty phials for their potions and spells. He had been expecting chaos to ensue the moment he arrived, though thankfully that was not the case. No one had noticed him at first, all of them diligently working on their own specific tasks that were most definitely designed to find him.

Paige, his youngest aunt, was bent over a table that had several maps spread over it, a crystal pendulum dangling from her fingers as she spun it over the maps in large circles. She was scrying for him, which would have been a sure way to find him had he not been hiding himself from that method. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, the dark circles under her eyes prominent. Phoebe, his other aunt, was frantically searching through a pile of books, several balls of crumbled up paper strewn out around her and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She was most likely searching for ways to summon him to her side, the pile of paper being failed spells. Her hair was shorter, though no less unkempt as her sister's, and she looked just as exhausted.

Wyatt could only assume that the rest of the family was spread out throughout the house carrying out similar errands in an effort to find him. He felt a stab of guilt, knowing he was the cause of their distress. He should never have just taken off, not with the live they all lead. It was a surefire way to cause panic among everyone, because they all checked in with each other at least once a day just in case something should happen. He was just about to announce himself when the unexpected sound of glass shattering upon the attic floor caused them all to jump in start, immediately taking a defensive position out of instinct.

Moments later Wyatt was engulfed in a bone crushing embrace by his mother, who had dropped the tray of coffee and pastries at the sight of him. He returned the hug gently, even as two more pairs of arms joined in the attempt to strangle him. His mother, Piper, was the oldest living sister. She looked even more unkempt than either Paige or Phoebe had, her long dark hair in disarray from her constantly gripping it with her hands. He held her close in apology. After what he had put them through, he figured they deserved the chance to crush him like this. He whispered softly as he felt hot, moist tears against his neck and shoulders, calming them with reassurances and apologies until they finally stopped crying.

Paige and Phoebe were the first to release him, wiping at their eyes and smiling widely at him in relief. His mother took longer, keeping him trapped within her embrace until she was sure he was real and not a figment of her hopeful imagination. He rubbed her back gently, his cheek pressed against the crown of her head. She pulled away nearly ten minutes later, brown eyes shining and puffy from her tears, cheeks stained with the evidence of her happiness. She said nothing as she poked and prodded at him, inspecting him thoroughly for any kind of injury, eying his lack of shirt with some speculation.

When she was satisfied, she took a small step back, smiled at him… and then she smacked the side of his head. "Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, where the hell have you been, young man?" she demanded steadily, her hands pressed hard against her hips as she glared up at him. Despite the fact that his mother was significantly shorter than him, and physically weaker she was still just as intimidating as she had been twenty years ago and he irrationally looked down and scuffed his shoes against the floor, mumbling out a pathetic answer in response. "Wyatt?" she warned.

"Out of town," he answered louder, looking at her apologetically. "Way out of town…" She raised a dark eyebrow in question and he swallowed the thickness lodged in his throat. His mother was not someone to piss off with evasive answers—she was damn scary. "I stayed with Isaac for a while… in Los Angeles. And then I went to… Damien's house… in Tuscany. But I'm back now!" he said helplessly, wincing in anticipation as he saw her fingers twitch in her ire.

Piper Halliwell was not in the best of moods, and when her emotions were high, as they had been since she had first discovered the absence of her oldest son, objects around her tended to… explode. As it were, the moment her fingers twitched, every window in the entire attic suddenly cracked irreparably and shattered outward into millions of tiny particles that rained down in the grass and bushes that surrounded the house. It was something that happened quite often, so none of them so much as blinked at the destruction. They could repair it with a few simple words later on. Paige and Phoebe wisely chose to not interfere as the their older sister took in a deep, calming breath, and curled her arms around her, crossing them so that there would not be a repeat of the incident, and then she looked at her wide-eyed son with an icy stare.

"You are going to go with us downstairs where the rest of the family is waiting," she told him coldly, and he flinched at the unfamiliarity of that tone coming from his mother. "You are going to sit down, and explain to us why you vanished without a word, without a trace… for four days, to hide away with your friends. This is going to be a calm and mature discussion. And when you are done, you will apologize to each and every one of us for scaring us like this… and then we will discuss your punishment. Is that quite understood, young man?"

Wyatt swallowed thickly. "… Yes, ma'am,"

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Nearly two hours later, the majority of their family had departed without the satisfaction of a proper explanation, though relieved to find that Wyatt had returned unharmed. The wounds were still to fresh to open up about properly, and he knew he would cave in and talk to his brother by the end of the day. The rest of the family would find out soon enough anyway. He had spent the first hour apologizing to all of his cousins, his aunts and uncles, his godfather, his grandparents, his great grandmother, his own siblings and his parents. He had a lot to apologize for and a lot of people to apologize to. There had been a lot of yelling and quite a few tears though in the end he had been forgiven… with a few stipulations.

It could have been worse, and he was grateful that they had yet to pry. He figured they would discuss it with each other first, and then corner him, although by then they would probably all know. His younger brother had kept quiet the entire time everyone else had nitpicked and scolded him, tucked away in a corner of the room. He had been the only one who had yet to approach him, though as soon as Wyatt had seen his aunt and her family out, he found that young Christopher was waiting for him in his room. Wyatt watched as his brother leaned against his desk, his arms crossed though not in an angry way. He was shorter than Wyatt, though not by much. His dark brown hair was shaven close to his head, and he had the same lithe and tone physique as his brother though he was a bit more slender. It was clear to see that Chris took more after their mother in appearance whereas Wyatt was more like their father.

Chris idly played with the leather string tied around his wrist, his green eyes pensive and his face thoughtful as he observed him. "Something happened, something that hurt you." It was a simple statement, and a very good deduction. "You would never have left like you did unless it had been something bad, and you just wanted to get away from it. And I already have an idea what that may have been… so you don't have to explain anything, not to me."

For a moment, neither brother moved. It was times like this that Wyatt was so incredibly grateful to have such a caring and understanding brother. He had been sure that this would be when Chris would sit him down and interrogate him. Wyatt had underestimated his brother's empathetic ability to simply know when something was wrong. His brother was great at solving problems with very little information, especially when it was about something as important as this. He should have known that Chris would have figured out what was plaguing him. And Chris, being who he was, would simply forgive him, no questions asked. It was... a very big relief to know that he had his brother on his side.

With a heavy sigh, Wyatt kicked off his shoes and fell back against his bed. He placed his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling with a solemn frown. His lips twitched into a smile as he felt his brother drop onto the bed beside him from the opposite side, so that they were laying head to feet together. Both were silent, willing to stay silent if that is what was needed even, though Wyatt already knew he was cracking. He couldn't not tell his brother. Chris was his closest friend, and he never kept anything from him. Wyatt gathered his thoughts, wondering how he could even begin to explain everything. It hurt significantly to even think about, like there was a giant chasm inside of his chest where his heart used to be. It was no as bad as it had been a few days prior, though his chest still ached.

Finally, he settled for a simple answer. "It was Gwen,"

Chris had obviously been expecting this answer because he only nodded. "What did she do?"

Wyatt snorted quietly, a bitter smile on his face. "How do you know it was her fault?"

"You know the answer to that, Wy," Chris reminded him gently.

And they both knew he was right. Wyatt did know why his brother would automatically assume that she was at fault and not him. Gwen and Wyatt had been dating off and on for several years, and as with every couple they had their troubles, and they had gone their separate ways during almost every major confrontation. Each time they had broken up, Gwen had been the instigator because she wanted to play the field occasionally or because she needed space. It made no difference to her if she hurt Wyatt during those periods, and as such, Gwen had not managed to endear herself to anyone in their family, especially not his little brother. Chris had made no effort to hide his dislike for her, despite the fact that Wyatt had practically begged him to play nice.

"It's stupid, really," Wyatt told him, though neither of them truly thought that. He would not have disappeared like that if it had it been for a stupid reason. He sighed, closing his eyes in slight pain. "Should have seen it coming, actually, what with our track record with each other and all but I… I was stupid. Stupid, and in love. I never wanted to let her go. She just… could never be satisfied with being with one person."

Chris was angry, and it reflected in his tone. "She cheated on you."

"… Not for the first time, either…" Wyatt agreed quietly. The first time had been the reason they had broken up the last time, the only time that Wyatt had ever been the one to call things off. Their separation had lasted for a month. "I forgave her the first time. She said that she was sorry, and it had been a mistake and it would never happen again. Somehow I get the feeling that it did happen again, and often, because when I caught them together he seemed very familiar with her. This was just the only other time I caught her." He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "This time… she couldn't smile and say that she was sorry. This time, I told her we were done... and that the wedding was off."

"Good for you," Chris said evenly, secretly pleased that he would no longer have to play nice with the girl who continuously broke his brother's heart. He had long ago realized that the only reason Wyatt tended to avoid getting serious with anyone else was because Gwen had her claws so deep inside of him, that he just couldn't see himself ever being serious about anyone other than her. It was as if she could do no wrong in his eyes. And now everything had been cruelly revealed to him, and no matter how much of a bad brother it made him, Chris was glad. It meant that Wyatt no longer saw her as infallible. Chris relaxed into the bed, turning slightly to level his brother with a speculative look. "Are you okay? Really?"

Wyatt thought seriously on the question for a moment. Was he okay? He surprised himself with the answer. He shook his head with an amused smile, though admittedly a confused pinch to his brows as he began to speak. "You know what? I really am," He was a bit stumped by his own reaction, because four days ago he had been lost in a world of hurt and anger and betrayal. Now… he was… relieved. He knew now that he would never take her back, because she had broken the cardinal rule. He valued commitment, and if she had not been faithful not only once but twice there was a good chance it would have happened again. No more drama with Gwen seemed to be just the thing he needed. "I guess it was just time to go our separate ways… for good."

Chris nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You know… one thing has bothered me since you got back."

Wyatt made a noncommittal sound in question.

"A few things, actually… for instance, Eric called me around eight last night. It took me till about nine this morning to notice, because my phone was charging. D.J. called a while later, saying that you left around closing. But what's strange is… though you were still gone when mom checked your room this morning, which could only mean that you were elsewhere. And you were being quiet when I called you, very quiet… as if you were trying not to disturb someone. Then there is the fact that you arrived without a shirt…"

There was an unspoken question in there, one that could either be answered or avoided, because Chris was giving him that option. Wyatt couldn't help the wide smile that graced his features at the thought of where he had been last night, though it turned into a grimace as he recalled the less than spectacular retreat this morning. With a despondent sigh, Wyatt rose to his elbows and gave his brother a wistful smile. "I found… the most lovely distraction," he informed his brother, who sat up with an eager grin. "And you know what? The entire time I was with her… there were only a few times that I even thought about Gwen, the entire time. She was so… sweet," Wyatt breathed out in slight wonder. "She listened and did not judge me, and she was nice and calm and it just put me… at ease. I was comfortable with her, Chris... content even."

"Aw," Chris smiled mischievously. "Someone sounds twitterpated,"

Wyatt smacked him with a pillow for his teasing. "Shut up, Christopher."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head, placing the pillow behind his head. "So? Details?"

And so Wyatt began his recount of what he could remember from last night, beginning with his disagreement with new bartender, whom Chris made him promise to apologize to the next time he saw him, up until the point D.J. had escorted the lovely redhead up to the lounge upon Eric's request. "Thought she was pretty, so I said she could stay," Chris laughed uproariously, apparently thinking that his reason for allowing her into the lounge was amusing. Wyatt childishly stuck his tongue out at him, insisting, "You would have done the same!" He told his brother all about how she listened while he rambled on about nothing, about everything, and how he had done the same for her, and then about their game of endless questions and how it morphed into just answering randomly even when no questions were asked. Wyatt was, admittedly, a bit vague on the details regarding what had happened after he walked her home, because he was flushing right along with Chris, who did not want those kind of details and stammering, skipping right on ahead to the point where he woke up.

Chris, for the most part, was glad that his brother had found someone to capture his attention and take his mind off of the harpy. "So are you going to see her again?"

"That is the ultimate question, isn't it," Wyatt sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He would like to see her again. Even if it was only as a friend, because everything about her had been pleasant to the point that he already considered her to be a friend. He thought that perhaps it would be a bit too soon for them to be anything other than friends anyway, and he would not like begin dating again just days after he called off his wedding no matter how attracted he was to someone. That would only be a recipe for disaster, and would probably only hurt them both in the end. "It would be… beyond nice to see her again," he admitted. There was only one problem. "Only… she hadn't woken up by the time you called so…"

"... You idiot," Chris lamented, closing his eyes in a grimace.

Wyatt winced. "Agreed,"

"How are you going to fix that?"

"Groveling? Flowers? Memory dust so she won't know what an ass I am?"

"Maybe throw in the honey cake love spell for good measure," Chris suggested jokingly, only to snort at the considering look on his brother's face. He shook his head. "Just… apologize to her if you see her again. You won't know unless you try, so you may as well. Although I'm not sure if you're ready for the dating scene just yet..."

"I don't even know if she'll want to see me again." he sighed. "She probably hates me... that's if she even remembers me."

Chris gave him a sympathetic look and shrugged. "If she's worth it… then you won't give up."

"Wyatt Matthew Halliwell!"

Both brothers shuddered as the voice reached their ears. The shriek was too high pitched to have been there mother, and as all of the aunts and cousins and grandparents had been escorted back to their lovely abodes, that left one person, and that person did not sound very happy. It was their younger sister, Melinda. She was only sixteen, and lord help the man that she eventually snagged her lethal hooks into because she already had their mother's temper magnified by ten. Wyatt groaned miserably as he hurried from the bed, heading for his closet where he proceeded to pull out a pair of black slacks and a simple white button down shirt.

Chris watched him scramble for a pair of dress shoes in amusement. "What is Mini-Mom upset about?"

"One of her demands, as payment for costing her three days that could have been spent shopping at the mall with her friends," Wyatt hissed as he stubbed a toe in his haste. "Was that I help out at the restaurant because the bar tender is out with the flu, and I happen to be lucky enough to have a liquor license. She is going to be pissed that I don't have a uniform, but she gave me the lunch shift without bothering to find out if I had one or not, so it's her own fault. Now go stall her, pretty please, so I can change."

Chris snorted, shaking his head though he complied and hurried up the stairs to prevent their sister from barging in.

As Wyatt was straightening the collar of his shirt, he spotted something on his nightstand that both infuriated him and made his heart clench with sadness. With a deep frown, he approached, taking the framed photograph in his hands and studying it. It was taken just a few months ago, on the day he proposed, by his own brother who moonlighted as an aspiring photographer in his free time. He and Gwen were looking away from the camera, wide, happy smiles plastered on their faces as they watched the waves of the ocean, their feet buried in the sand while wind whipped their hair around. It was a lovely picture that captured the moment beautifully.

Exhaling all of his anger with one deep, controlled breath, Wyatt placed the frame back upon his nightstand face down so that the haunting image was hidden from his sight. He would deal with it later when he returned, and probably smash the glass and burn the image itself. The wound was still too fresh to want to eradicate everything about her from his life, the knife of betrayal still embedded between his shoulder blade, so painful and sharp not to be twisted a bit so he would never forget… though he thought he may have been on the way to healing already.

It would take some time before he was completely over Gwen. Six years was a long time to be with someone, and they had been friends before they had become lovers. And it was not as if they had been steadily dating during that entire time either, during their separations they had both seen other people both seriously and casually. This latest attempt had been the longest they had been together, for ten consecutive months. He had proposed because he had thought they were both ready to take that final step, to cement their relationship in the way his parents had.

Perhaps he had only wanted to take that next step with her because he thought it may have made her want to stick around for good, that she would cease walking away from him so she could be with someone else. A piece of paper and a ring to tie them together, some tangible proof that she actually loved him and wanted to be with him like he wanted to be with her. He had been fooling himself, and she had walked right over his delusions with her sharp stiletto high heels and broke his heart in a way she had never before.

Wyatt only hoped she had not caused him permanent damage.

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¸.·´¯·»Chapter«·´¯·.¸

So there might be one last update in a few weeks, but beyond that it will be a long while til I get the time. The only reason I got these chapters up is because I worked on them when all my guests had gone to bed already. Otherwise I would have heard several complaints about me being on my computer, but I figured it would have just been cruel to leave it at that first chapter. Besides, it just wanted to be written this week. My mind would not be at ease until I had written it all down...

Lynx