The biggest night of the week for The Starlighter is Fridays. Not the weekends, which you'd think would be the busiest, but Fridays simply for the fact we hold an open mic night. People here live for live music, and they jump at the opportunity to watch someone break out their guitar. Regardless of how much pain open mic brings me, I like Fridays because it's my biggest tip night.

The patio is packed, not an open seat out here, and we currently have a woman named Margie singing some Amy Winehouse. She's really good, and the crowd seems to like her. That means I go around and ask everyone if they want another round of drinks because more often than not, they'll say yes.

Wyatt is here tonight, but he's not working. He's with Dylan and Timmy at a table in the back. Thankfully, they're in Tilly's section, not mine. I've been staying as far away from them as possible.

Wyatt and I never discussed our fight last week. He went back to his stone cold ways ignoring me every chance he could, and I let him. I'm done trying to get in his good graces. He's engaged and happy, and I only have a few more months of helping out Loretta before I get to plan my next move. I don't know what that is yet, but I'm hoping to figure it out soon.

"Damn girl!" Loretta shouts at me from behind the bar. "Who'd you dress all nice for tonight?"

I don't take big tip nights lightly. If I want more money, I have to look nice. It's just a fact. I'm wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a black tube top with gold sparkly sandals. My hair is slicked back into a high ponytail and large gold hoops are dangling from my ears. For the first time since I've been here, I finally feel like myself. My makeup is done, my outfit is nice, and for once, the weather is beautiful. It's in the low eighties, and there's a slight breeze with no rain in sight. It's the perfect night for open mic.

And for cash tips.

"Can't a girl look nice without there having to be a reason?" I ask.

She barks out a laugh. "I'm not naive, Macey. And yes, he's been lookin all damn night. Can't take his eyes off ya."

Wyatt is not the reason I dressed up tonight. Well, not the whole reason. I glance toward their table, and yes, he's staring directly at me. I can't fully see his outfit since he's far away, but there's a cowboy hat on his head, which always used to be my weakness. I convinced him to let me wear it on multiple occasions. In fact, I think it's the same one.

"That's not why I did it," I tell her, but I'm quickly cut off when the familiar chords of the one song I despise with every ounce of my being starts being played. It's a new person that's come on the stage. He's older, mid-sixties, and he's got a long gray beard with a huge belt buckle and cowboy boots. He's playing Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, and I drop my pen and pad to the floor from being caught so off guard.

It's a popular country song, so it's not a huge surprise that someone wanted to play it, but the fact that Wyatt and I are in the same room to hear it isn't okay. We haven't been in the same room to hear this since that night he played it. The first night we laid eyes on each other.

"Macey..." Loretta knows how much this song means to us. She was there. "Sit down for a second, alright?"

I shake my head, blinking away tears as the man starts to perform the song. My body is trembling, and Wyatt won't break eye contact with me, and everything just gets to be too much. I can't be around him anymore knowing that he will never be mine. I have to let him go despite Loretta telling me to keep going. Otherwise, I'm going to break myself in the process.

"Loretta, I have to go," I say with a trembling lip. Turning to face her, I bend down to pick the pen and pad off the patio floor and set it on top of the bar. "I can't do this anymore. I thought I could...but I can't. It's too painful. I wanted to help, and I wanted to be here for you, but I love him, Loretta, and I can't stay here and watch him marry someone else. It'll kill me."

"Macey, just—"

"I'm sorry," I choke out as I untie my apron and set it on top of my pen and paper. The song continues to play, and my emotions are running wild as I race down the stairs of the patio and head toward my Prius. I've cried more times in the past five weeks than I have my entire life, and I curse myself when, yet again, hot, angry tears stream down my cheeks.

I've lost my job with no place to live, and I've officially lost Wyatt. There's no hope left to hold onto. It's gone.

I've officially hit rock bottom.

"Fuck," I mutter when I try to start the engine and it stalls. It's not fucking starting. Of all days, it decides to stop working. My rage boils over, and in seconds, I'm punching the steering wheel over and over again, and I get so mad that I climb out of the car and kick the tire repeatedly. "Stupid piece of crap!" I scream.

"Mace..." Wyatt is lingering a few feet away, staring at me with wide eyes as he witnesses my temper tantrum. He's the last person I want to see right now.

"Go away!" I scream.

Concern is etched across his face, and he takes two wide steps until he's standing right in front of me, gripping me by the shoulders to try and get me to calm down. His touch feels too good though. It feels too right. It's a feeling I won't be able to get used to because I will never be able to feel it again.

I thrash in his arms, but he pulls me close to his chest and holds me tight until I'm gasping for breath through all of my sobs. "Get away!" I cry, but I'm clutching onto him for dear life. I never want to let go. "Dammit, Wyatt, go away."

"I'm not goin anywhere, Macey," he says.

Finding enough force, I'm able to push out of his grasp and gain control of myself again. "Stop doing that! You can't just act nice when you fucking feel like it, Wyatt. If I'm not having a meltdown you act like a dick, and at first I excused it because I know what I did, and I know what I took away from you, but it doesn't give you the right to treat me like shit after I've been trying to get back in your good graces relentlessly! It's been over a month and you still act like my presence bothers you."

"Because it does!" He yells, completely exploding. "Do you think it's easy for me to be around you, Macey? I thought you were goin to be my wife one day, and then you had to fuck up and ruin everything for us. I mourned our relationship for years and now that I've finally moved on, you decide to show back up? Do you know how fucked it's making me?" He takes a step closer, towering over me. "Bein around you is too difficult. Your smell, your smile, your laugh... I can't fucking think straight when you're around. Caroline deserves better than that, so I need to push you away because I don't trust myself not to make a mistake."

I rub my hands over my face and let out an exaggerated breath. "And that's why I'm leaving, Wyatt. I'm done. I told Loretta I can't do this anymore. I know my being back here has been hard for you, and it's hard for me, too. I can't stay and watch you marry someone else. So I'm leaving. And I won't come back."

He grows tense, hands fisting at his sides. "You're leavin?"

Letting out a sob, I say, "you're giving me no reason to stay. "

Wyatt knows just as well as I do that there's nothing he can say right now that won't cross a line with Caroline. Whatever is on his mind, he has to keep it to himself, and I respect that. I have to respect that.

Climbing back inside my Prius, I keep trying to start it, but the engine continues to fail, puttering out with a loud screeching sound. "Fucking hell!" I scream, punching the steering wheel for the fourth time tonight.

"Macey, come on. I'll drive you," Wyatt says.

"I don't want to drive anywhere with you. Wouldn't want Caroline to notice and make her parents expedite stealing your father's land." The sentence escapes my mouth before I can stop it, and Wyatt laughs.

"Loretta talked to you, didn't she?"

I climb back out of the vehicle since it won't start and cross my arms over my chest. "Don't you find it odd that she started dating you right when her parents started investing in the buildings on main street? They want to expand, Wyatt, and they're using her to get you to agree."

"Caroline would never do that," he sneers. "What this boils down to Macey is that you're jealous, and I get it, but—"

"Jealous? This is so much more than me being jealous, Wyatt. The minute you're married, she has just as much access to that land as you do. Unless you're signing a prenup."

"Whether we do or not is none of your damn business. Marriage will be a good thing for us."

"Why? Because you'll get to have sex?"

I'm throwing out the meanest insults I can, and I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I know I lost this fight for him. Maybe it's because I know that after tonight, I'll more than likely never speak to him again.

Wyatt's nostrils are flaring from being so pissed. He steps in front of me, eyes blazing and lip curled. "I stopped carin about that after we fucked, Macey. Can't exactly save myself for marriage when that ship sailed a long time ago."

More tears roll down my cheeks. "It was more than just fucking and you know that."

"Do I? After how we ended?"

My mouth gapes open as all of these insecurities spill from his lips. He can't possibly think that night meant nothing to me, right?

I'm full-on sobbing again. A complete, emotional fucking wreck. "That night meant everything to me, Wyatt. I loved you with every piece of my heart, despite what you may think. You were the one who suggested it. You were the one who told me you were certain, so don't throw that shit in my face now. You don't think I feel guilty about it? Taking away that religious experience from you? I think about that night all the time. And you know what? I don't need you in my face trying to tell me how I feel when you're fucking wrong. I regret ending how we did. I regret what I did the night I left. It was a MISTAKE! A fucking MISTAKE! And that's the last time I'm saying it!"

Gripping my purse tightly to my side, I begin walking in the direction of Loretta's house. It's a far walk, probably around twenty minutes or so, but I could use the space to clear my head. I'll figure out what to do with my car tomorrow.

"You're not seriously going to walk home, are you?" Wyatt calls after me, completely ignoring the speech I just gave him, and that makes me even more upset. I pick up the pace, hearing him mutter cuss words before I hear his truck start. He pulls up beside me in less than a minute and rolls the passenger side window down. "Get in the car," he says.

"No."

"Macey, get in this goddamn car. Now. It's dangerous as hell walkin on country roads at night. You know that."

"I don't want to get in the car with you," I say defiantly. "I'm walking home. That's final."

"Are you really that fuckin stubborn? We get in a fight and you can't accept a helping hand?"

"If that helping hand belongs to you, then no."

"You know what? Fine, Macey. Have it your way, then."

Speeding off down the road, he gets to the stop sign a couple of feet ahead of me, but he doesn't make a turn. He continues to sit at the stop sign until I finally catch up, a smile tugging at my lips. He can try to be a jerk if he wants to, but those southern manners will always bite him in the ass. I hate that it always makes me smile.

"You're not walkin home alone, and you're not leavin Darlington," he says, causing my body to still. "Over my dead fuckin body."

I glance into his truck now and scan his face. He's angry, but he also looks defeated—like he's tired of fighting this just as much as me.

"I'm callin a truce," he says. "Finish out your time with Loretta, and in the meantime... I won't ignore you. We can be friends. Just please...don't leave. Not yet."

"And what about Caroline? What if she doesn't want us to be friends?"

"Then that's a problem I'll handle myself. Just get in this goddamn car for the love of Christ."

A smile plays on my lips. "You're missing something important," I tell him.

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Mace. Truly. For being a dick and making the past five weeks here hell for you. It'll be hard bein around you, but it'll be even harder if you aren't around at all."

The apology is sincere, I can see it in his eyes. And while we're not exactly getting back together, I at least will be able to continue staying with Loretta to save some cash for the next few months. That is, if she doesn't kick me out for walking out on her tonight. It'll be a lot easier staying in Darlington knowing this feud between Wyatt and me is over.

"I owe you an apology too for speaking poorly of Caroline. I don't know her, and I let Loretta's opinion of her taint mine, and for that, I'm sorry. Maybe I am jealous."

Wyatt eyes my outfit and lets out a sigh. "You have no reason to be jealous."

Climbing out of the car, he walks around to the passenger side and opens up the door for me. And then he smiles, and it brings even more tears to my eyes. His smile is so perfect. I haven't seen it in so long that I don't even ask when I fling my arms around him to wrap him in the biggest hug.

Instantly, his large arms wrap around me, and we hug each other so tightly that I think we eliminate all of the oxygen between us. I cry softly into his t-shirt, apologizing repeatedly for everything I've done, and Wyatt sits down in the passenger seat, pulling me on his lap. I know this is crossing a boundary, but I need this one last time. I just need to feel his arms around me one more time.

He strokes my back and holds me tight, my head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. My earring gets caught on a stray thread of his shirt, and he chuckles as he tries to detangle it. "You dressed up nice tonight," he says. "I like these." He plays with my earring between two fingers while his free arm is wrapped around my lower back, his hand placed dangerously high on my thigh, just below what would qualify as my ass.

Again, I should be telling him to stop, but I don't. Technically, we're not doing anything wrong, and I haven't been this close to him in years. It feels good. More than good.

"And I feel like I have to say this, but I know that night wasn't just fucking between us, Macey." He swipes away another tear that falls on my cheek with his thumb.  "I was just mad and trying to hurt you. I didn't mean it. It was one hundred percent my choice that we did that. You don't need to feel guilty for anything."

I sniffle and glance up at him. "Do you regret it?"

My heart leaps into my throat as soon as the sentence leaves my lips. We just stopped fighting. It was the completely wrong question to ask, but rather than push me away, he smiles at the memory, and I'm a blubbering mess all over again.

"That was the best night of my life," he says. "I couldn't regret it even if I wanted to."