named SPENCER JAMES WYATT, but call him WYATT. born & raised in phoenix, arizona, he’s THIRTY-SEVEN years of age and the OWNER of JACKSON’S, a gritty little bar downtown
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@spencerwyatt
named SPENCER JAMES WYATT, but call him WYATT. born & raised in phoenix, arizona, he’s THIRTY-SEVEN years of age and the OWNER of JACKSON’S, a gritty little bar downtown
background | connections | pinterest
a starter for: @mvnicadiaz where: some auto shop when: during the day
“So, what do ya think?” He said, arms crossed, eyes facing forward to the beaten-down bike before them. “She’s a beauty, right?” With all the damages strewn about; she was a real fixer-upper.
rose bernat.
𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓. @phxstarters
“ some douche bag keeps buying me drinks. this message you’re gonna help me send is way overdue. “ rose slides the drink to them, careful not to spill more than condensation. “ from him, to me, to you. de nada. “
“Do I look like I would drink this?” Wyatt questioned, arching a brow in the direction of the drink slid in front of him. “Why don’t you just go on over and dump it on ‘em?”
leeor westbrook.
-
She knew his words were meant in jest. She also knew if he’s said that to her years ago, her lip would jut out for the beginning of a long winded fight only to end in them kissing. Their cycle felt easy back then. Fight, sex, flirt, makeout, fight, sex, flirt, make out, repeat. Still, now his words remained floating in her head - a reminder of how shitty she’d been back then, all for her parents who ended up disowning her anyway. Here he was still, standing in front of her, being nice. “Not really the woman people fall in love with, Spence.” She nodded slowly, leaning against the bar as she turned away from him. Leeor’s eyes rolled. “Tequila on the rocks.” Hard alcohol felt necessary considering the night she had. The bustle of the people, which usually calmed her, made her skin crawl tonight. She scanned the room full of people noticing the man who’s car she’d been in earlier, flirting with a girl in the back. Not really the woman people fall in love with. Her dark eyes found her old friend. “Can we go upstairs or are you on duty?”
.
“That’s what you think, Lee.” He was once upon a time some young man, infatuated, and if it wasn’t for the outside sources, he was sure he could have easily fallen head over heels. Unfortunately, that obviously wasn’t how things worked out and the both of them went their separate ways. As it appeared, or as Fate--he would easily joke-- would have it, they tumbled their way back into each others lives. Or, stumbled out of a cab. Better than before? That wasn’t necessarily something he’d be able to attest to, but if the bar was any clear indication, he was sorta doing better. “Just haven’t found the right fuckin’ frog yet.” Or someone her parents would accept. Clearly. The order easily rang through the air and Spencer gave a brief nod to the bartender working, who quickly slid a dark bottle of beer before the male, and the requested in front of the woman. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and with a teasing tone, he mused, “I’m startin’ to think you’re trying to get in my pants.” A light jest, something to cut the tension he could see so thickly on her features. “I own the place, I do what I want.” And he also worked the whole fucking morning. With that, he was slowly backing up towards the hidden staircase tucked off to the corner. “Lets blow this joint. Should we race up there?”
toni campos.
✹
Knowing the damage you had done to someone you loved was likely one of the worst existences. Toni always felt as though she was apologizing for who she was, how she was, and hated that it had to be that way. For the longest time she wanted to explain herself, had maybe hoped that someone would see her and understand that she was a soul not at peace. Her earliest abandonments took place when she was just a small child, she was in the wild without a loving guide to care for her and give her the proper examples of how it meant to be alive in the world. That left her to stumble through each and every experience, and despite the outcome the brunette always struggled to get it right. She truly tried to do right by the people that she loved. Unfortunately she was her own enemy, her impulses and fears always got the best of her. Toni didn’t know how to be loved so it turned on flight mode. And even though she’d done a shitty job of showing it, she never wanted to run from Spencer.
When he said the words, those three very special words, why did it feel like it was spat out from obligation? Truly, Toni hadn’t expected anything from her ex. She had hurt him and had hurt him badly. What she didn’t want was to hurt him anymore, and it had begun to feel like she needed to permanently remove herself from his life. He seemed so angry and the mess she’d made was written all over him. “I know. I’m sorry, Spencer.” Voice quiet, scratchy over the lump in her throat. The brunette wished she could turn off the tears, she didn’t want them taken for manipulation or for it to soften whatever he was feeling toward her. Toni owed him hearing him out. Once she’d set her basket on the cheap tiled floor, she used her fingers to wipe her cheeks and did her best to hold Spencer’s gaze. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because I had no choice. Or, maybe I’m just stupid and couldn’t see any other option. But I tried and tried to reach you, I called and left messages and sent texts.” And received nothing in return for two years. “I may have left but I didn’t abandon you. I risked my life to make those calls, Spencer. I had every intention of returning if I made it out alive.”
Letting her eyes fall shut for a few moments, Toni absorbed everything. The last thing she cared about was location, she’d shout her love for this man anywhere. She’d fight for him anywhere. “Then don’t let me back in.” It was simple as that. If what she was to him was a storm, nothing short of something brought about to inflict damage then he really needed to keep her out of his life. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m a fuck up, all I do is fuck up, but I love you and I’m not ever leaving again. My words aren’t going to make you trust that.” Truly, the brunette felt defeated. Shoulders slumped and her fingers fidgeted. “I just want —”
Did it even matter anymore? Those questions sent a searing pain through her chest. “I just want to love you. Like you deserve. Like you’ve always deserved.” Fingers wiped at her cheeks once more. “I’m sorry. I’m messy and fucked up, but I just want you.”
What else was there to say really? If given the chance, the brunette wanted to give him an explanation on why she’d left. There was also a need to make it clear she hadn’t returned to her hometown to make his life difficult. In the time she’d been back in Phoenix, Toni had avoided Jackson’s so that her ex could have his space. He hadn’t returned a single call or message and that spoke volumes, on multiple levels. “I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness, I don’t deserve your love, I know that. But I can’t shut it off, Spencer. I can’t stop missing you or thinking about you. I can’t stop the way my heart pounds for you.” Seeing that she’d essentially forced tears of his own to fall, Toni extended a hand to wipe at his cheeks then pulled back before actually touching him. Remembering the way he’d stiffened before. “I just want you to know that I am truly sorry for hurting you. I am so sorry for not showing you just how fucking special you are to me.”
.
He really didn’t want to hear any more sorrys. If he had wanted the apologies, Spencer knew he would have listened to one of the many unanswered, saved voicemails; the ones clogging up the storage of his phone. The ones he consistently saved but refused to open, not even once. He could only assume they had as much in them that they could, giving every detail of how she felt, how sorry she was. It was one of the many reasons he couldn’t listen to them. Hearing her voice on the other end of the line, knowing she was nowhere near close. But Wyatt knew, no matter how much he’d say he didn’t want to hear sorry, she’d likely continue to say it-- and some part of him liked to know she hurt just as much as he did. Though the tears that rolled down her cheeks had him wanting to reach out, wipe them all away. It was like an itch in his hand, his fingers curling into a fist at his side to stop the motions. He wanted to reassure her that it was okay, would be. How could he reassure her of such a thing when there was no guarantee that it was. She left twice-- there was a chance she’d go again. She’d likely choose, if history gave any indication. She had no choice in staying? There was always a choice. He wanted to be her choice. Even if she made it all clear now, the brunette wasn’t sure how much he could truly believe it.
The words leaving her lips next had him freezing in his spot, dark brows furrowing and his mouth falling in a small ‘o’. “What are you talking about?” Wyatt’s voice was quiet, thick was emotion even. She was in danger, and she risked her life to make calls to him? The harrowing idea that she was out there on her own, trying to fend for herself, and he hadn’t answered her calls-- had him wanting to feel to his knees, but instead, his head merely bowed and began to shake. Dark hair cascaded over his features to hide the thoughts reflecting on his features, brewing through his mind. “Don’t fuckin’ say shit like that.” Not unless she wanted him to wreak havoc in the tiny grocery store, demanding answers; who, when, where, and the likes. Though he’d experienced what life was like without having her right there, he never wanted to imagine what it was like for her to no longer exist. Unbearable. “Don’t say shit like that.” He repeated again, this time his voice quieter than last. His groceries, the basket in hand-- none of that was a thought anymore, not even a necessity.
She was stating how she risked her life and now she was telling him not to let her back in. It was almost too much and the space they found themselves in, had him feeling like the aisles were closing in around him. Like he had to make a choice; let her go, or let the past go. What she didn’t seem to realize, even with all his anger and the way he tried to hate her when she wasn’t standing right in front of him-- she was always in his heart, his mind. Antonia had engraved herself into his soul, and she hadn’t just removed herself. With their whirlwind romance. The way she captivated him. Even with her reckless nature, she had a way of calming him when nobody else could. As much as he wanted her words to ease the heavy beating of his heart, they did no such thing.
Maybe he was dense in refusing to see how much she truthfully tried, and now it was all standing here in front of him. Staring him right in the fucking face, beautiful, and broken, and trying desperately to mend herself. He could refuse it or accept it, and try to make it work. Spencer didn’t flinch again when she reached out to touch him, anticipating the touch this time even. When it didn’t come, his own hand shot out for her wrist, bringing it forward to land on his own cheek. Bold, for the way his heart felt like it would shoot out of his chest and bring him to his knees. But she did that to him normally. “Toni-” His voice was a sigh, dark ocean hues closing as he gathered his thoughts. She was his best friend, the love of his life-- at one he hoped for more. It’d be too easy to just let go and Wyatt never liked easy.
Spencer’s own basket slipped from his hand, the grip on the handle loosening until the plastic clattered against the floor. Thankfully they were the only ones now in the surrounding area, with people only passing at the end, never bothering to pay much attention. With nothing in his grip, his mind racing a mile a minute-- Wyatt telling himself to just let it go; she was here now. She wasn’t going anywhere or so she said. The male lost all inhibitions in himself and pulled the woman into his arms, to bury his face in her neck, enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” He was sure his words were muffled by the hair covering her throat, but he didn’t care. It was hiding the emotions written over his features. He did it so well, hid everything and how he felt.
He pulled back, eyes finding her own, hands reaching up to brush gently at stray tears before cupping her face between two larger hands. He gulped before finding his own breath, his words beginning to fall from his lips, “I can’t stop the way I feel about you either, alright?” His heart was just as cruel. “I didn’t listen to them,” The voicemails. “Because I didn’t want it to be the end.” The real end. He didn’t want to hear the words that said she was never coming back, that she found a life without him. Though he could have completely caused that, never picking up, pushing her further and further away.
“Let’s get outta here.” Groceries be damned, he wanted her-- to talk to her. Hash it all out. Finally.
You’re a good boy. You’re a sensitive boy. Come home.
leeor westbrook.
-
He used her own words back at her, eyes full of a familiar wickedness. Everything with him fell back into place, like they’d never stopped talking or saw each other all of the time. They’d never been easy, but was anything good in life easy? “Don’t get cocky, Spence. Who said that bar wasn’t really low to begin with?” She chuckled before stepping inside. Her hip ached slightly - the heels on her feet doing little to help. The noise of the bar wrapped around her with warmth. Leeor felt proud of him - his success tangible for them to experience, to watch other’s enjoy. A pang of guilt still ran through her for ever making him feel less than her, hiding him the best she could. He’d always been better than her, too good for her. Leeor turned back to him, catching his eyes in the dim light. “I’d rather you try and seduce me than look at me with those pity eyes.” She spoke over the music. Was her despair that obvious? “But, lets start with drowning me in alcohol.” Lee’s brows wiggled.
.
“They should be set pretty high after me, c’mon now, Lee.” Hands shoved into his pockets, eyes downcast on the ground, a small little smirk ticked at the corner of Spencer’s lips. His dark head of hair shook. The cocky teenager in him rumbled in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of those days. Scrunching up his brows, Wyatt made a face, “Pity eyes? Nah, more like pity for the poor fool who’ll end up with their heartbroken. I feel for the poor sucker.” It was a joke as he entered the bar, no harm behind his words. Hell, he was certain he said the phrase years ago when they were just teenagers. Fine, go find someone else. He’ll be like the rest of us. A sucker. He also got a slap from his mother for that one, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. “As long as you can stand by the end of the night and I can get ya’ home, you’ll be golden. What do you drink these days? None of that fruity bullshit, I hope.” Hell, he didn’t even know if his bartenders had those types of mixes stocked.
Craig Cody in Animal Kingdom: 5x07
toni campos.
✹
“Stop what?” There was a desperation to her voice, dramatics tacked onto the second word as her body heaved her exasperation in a broken-hearted sigh. She folded some at the waist, shoulders drooped as her arms flailed down at her sides. “I’ve been trying to reach you —” And your lack of response or acknowledgement has not only argued with your stance now, it’s shone me the face of rejection. Especially when I needed you most. They were thoughts Toni wanted to say aloud, she lacked the confidence or conviction to do so out of fear of the way Wyatt would bite back. The brunette was in a circular argument where she’d be continually blamed for things she couldn’t change. All she wanted was a chance to explain, to apologize, to express her love. Which, was another cycle of her life. “— for fucking years, Spencer.” The intimacy that had once been between them felt so distant now that Toni hadn’t felt right rolling the names she called him off her tongue. Like Wyatt, Wy, and babe or baby. The long haired, broad shouldered ex seemed to want to spit when she did. “So, yeah, what else am I to think?”
Feeling how tense he was under her touch, she pulled away like she’d just set her hand on hot burner on the stove. Dark eyes found the white knuckled grip on his basket too, and she knew without a doubt he wanted to be anywhere but within proximity of her presence. The heart that had been in her throat dropped to her stomach at that painful realization. Something that Toni had known but was only witnessing and experiencing for the first time since she’d last departed him. The thing was, the wild brunette hadn’t forced him to be here and talking to her. It was Spencer that had decided to try and walk through her rather than around her — he chose to acknowledge her at this time and place. When he could’ve easily given her the harshest shoulder and moved on without so much as a glance. And while she hadn’t expected him to return the three little words, it still cut like a knife when he didn’t. She was always going to be that girl clinging to people that didn’t want her, that could easily discard her, or punish her by withholding.
“No!” A strong protest flung from desperate lips and her hand reached for him once more, only that time it stopped short of touching him. “I just said not to walk away from me and your first reaction is to do that?” Maybe she didn’t have rights anymore to make demands, but she was scared to death of the continued silence that would ensue the moment he stepped away from this very spot they were currently anchored in the grocery store aisle. “I’m not gonna fucking grocery shop with you with seething anger radiating off of you. I’m not gonna meet you somewhere else and have you likely just fucking blow me off again. I want you to fucking talk to me. Why the fuck does it matter where?” Being used to judgement, or maybe just never really caring what people thought at the end of the day, Toni could carry on right then and there. She was passionate enough to let the potentially dramatic scene unfold — it wasn’t likely she’d see these people again anyway. Frankly, the brunette was exhausted of extending a hand and it being left empty.
Maybe that was it, though — maybe love wasn’t enough. Countless texts and voicemails expressing how sorry she was, how much she loved him, and that she just needed to hear from him had been sent his way. Somewhere in there Toni had thought it all meant enough that he’d eventually give her a chance to, in the very least, explain. The sudden crushing wave of defeat crashed against her and whatever resolve Toni had been hanging onto by a thread had broken. There was only so much she could do, only so much she could fight before she had to accept the reality. She’d been broken and worn down by everything and the will to fight was slowly draining out of her. “Look,” her voice had become nothing much more than a whisper, “if you want to talk you know how to reach me.” Moving to step around him, because anything was more important than responding to her, Toni’s dark eyes met his blue once more. For the entirety of her life, she’d been chasing people and it was a difficult pill to swallow. “You wanna go, go —” Never was going to be a good enough time. “There’s a sale on Cinnamon Toast Crunch, buy one get one free.” With a nod, sad eyes welling with tears turned away and she wondered how in the hell she was going to begin the process of letting go.
.
He couldn’t deny the fact that she was right; she was the one contacting him while he had been the one to deny every chance. Every time her name popped up on his screen, followed by the contact image set years ago, he had to fight himself not to hurl the phone across any room he was in. The image brought up too many memories and the text bubble or new voicemail notification had only caused a panic to arise in his chest. Spencer merely shook his head, the unsaid I’m sorry caught like a lump in his throat. Wyatt feared the same thing over and over again, hence the ignored text messages and unanswered calls. He was scared-- scared to hear the thing he dreaded most. I love you, I’m sorry, but I’m not coming back. She’d left twice, why would she come back a third? Why would she need to tell him that in person? What else was she supposed to think when he had given every indication that he hadn’t wanted to hear from her? Truth was, Spencer never answered for the phone calls because he didn’t want the feared reality. He’d never see her again, they would be completely done with. Like a dream, a harsh memory. That thought alone almost crushed him.
It wasn’t to hurt her when he pulled away, flinching from her grip or even tensing under her touch. Spencer knew if he felt it again, he’d never let it go. It was his own fault for putting himself in this situation when he so easily could have walked in the other direction. Maybe he didn’t want to, maybe he wanted to see her, to hear her voice once again in his ears. The image of her to never fade. But this wasn’t the image he wanted, the stress on her features, the itch to reach out but the anguish to hold back. He hated it, every inch of it when he himself wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. The words stop, don’t do this wanting to fall from his lips, to sound through the aisle of the grocery store but they never came, not when her own voice rushed through the air, cutting his thoughts like a knife and bringing him back to attention. Angry ocean hues searched her face-- they weren’t as angry anymore as they were confused, upset. Why did she want to do this here, right now? In the middle of the goddamn grocery store? Maybe it needed to be done, considering he probably would stand her up if it didn’t happen now.
Wyatt was regaining his thoughts after the outburst that just occurred, only when she went to step around him. It sounded so final, so sad. It couldn’t be when he really didn’t want to go anywhere. As much as he was hurt, he loved Antonia with whatever stitched up heart he had left. She’d left twice, and even with everything they’d put each other through, he couldn’t let her walk away now. Not when he had any semblance of hope left. If she really wanted to do this now, he would do this now. His free hand shot out to grab her wrist, fingers gently wrapping around the slender bone, yet tight enough to pull her back around to face him. “What do you want me to say?” He questioned, voice quiet enough for only them to hear the conversation at hand. Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to hear. For once, he’d given her the satisfaction of communication like she deserved.
“You want me to say I love you?” He knew she did, he had seen the hurt written on her face when he hadn’t said the words back. “I do. I love you,” Not past tense, still present-- always. He would always love her, whether it ended with a great romance or in a terrible burning wreck of a car crash with fire everywhere. “But you fuckin’ hurt me.” They were adults, Spencer could communicate like one. Or, well, he would try to. He wouldn’t say it all, likely. How the ring was still hidden, or that there was one at all, or how the fact that they had even tried to plan anything only for it to crumble into nothing, in turn crumbling him. Instead, he’d try to be nice-- for himself. “If I talk to you, let you back in, you have the opportunity to hurt me again.” He wouldn’t survive it a third time. The first time, it was college, acceptable. She needed to find out who she was, experience everything she could before deciding on anything. But then she came back, and there were conversations and great laughter and love of all things, only for one simple moment to take place and the short I can’t stay to echo through the atmosphere. Why, why couldn’t she then and why was she here now? To do it all over? He physically wouldn’t be able to. “You understand I can’t be your friend, Antonia.” He couldn’t, not when he loved her so much. They were never just friends anyway.
Spencer was certain his voice was cracking as he spoke, his dark head of hair shaking as he averted his gaze for a moment. She’d have to ignore the quick swipe of his eye, the uncertain and unshed tears lingering. He didn’t want this. “So, why are you here? What do you want from me?”
lola velasquez.
.
“Well, why do you think I’m trying to get these guys out of here ASAP?” Lola confirmed, giving up the details behind her plan with such ease. They couldn’t very well enjoy each other’s company with them here, right? Well, they could, as long as they were willing to accept an audience, or were particularly stealth. “You’re putting a kink in my plan, Wyatt. So, I need you to hurry up and get them out of here, so we can get those clothes off.” They had an arrangement, one that seemed to be doing the trick for each party involved. But above that, she enjoyed being around him. Especially when she was faced with difficult or stressful situations, there was something calming and light hearted about his presence, that seemed to sooth her after a long day. “I don’t know,” she began, rising from her prior position as she headed towards the brunette male before her, “seems like five minutes too long.” The distance between them was narrow, the need too close their proximity increasing by the second. “I might just have to go upstairs and tend to things myself.” A smirk formed, effortlessly, against her lips, eyeing up to the significantly taller man before her, mere inches in fact. Thankfully, it didn’t look like the last few remaining patrons were paying much attention, considering their less than sober state. “I mean, or I could just go?” And with that, the young woman took a few steps back, eyes hitting the entrance of the establishment, in a bid to pursue her plan, but in actual fact, she wasn’t going anywhere.
.
Blue hues narrowed as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips; he was watching her, her actions and every move she made. The patrons of the bar surrounding them seemed to fade into nothing. Apparently clothes needed to come off, and kinks needed to be unkinked in order for that to happen. When she spoke like that, five minutes was indeed too long. Wyatt shook his head with an everpresent grin on his lips, “I think we both know you’re not goin’ anywhere.” Though that didn’t stop him from simply turning his head to call out to the bar, “Everyone get the fuck out.” They were all paid up, they were all good to go. They all weren’t driving thanks to the cabs previously called and awaiting outside, so what did he care? It was five minutes, and he wouldn’t be making more money in that five minutes. “Now you can head upstairs.” One hand, and the index finger on it, pointed above them when the lot of customers finally exited the door. “Unless you wanna stay down here and help me clean?”
leeor westbrook.
-
One of his strides equaled about 3 of her own. Her eyes rolled again, not that he could see with his back turned to her. She hated that he literally had her chasing after him. Leeor swallowed her pride as she pushed her feet hard into the concrete to catch up to him. “I’m wearing heels.” She groaned, pulling at his arm to urge him to slow his pace. Her palm pushed into the side of his arm - a love tap she liked to call them. As they rounded the corner, his bar came into their line of sight. It felt fitting - him owning a bar. Leeor never thought people needed to do grandiose things with their lives to be special, which might be surprising to some considering the ballet of it all. The ambient noise of people chattering felt familiar. She’d become so comfortable in places like this, where people came to hide in the dim light to be less alone. “So, what’s your big plan here Spence… get me all liquored up and try to seduce me?” She teased.
.
I’m wearing heels. The comment, as well as grab to his arm, had him slowing his pace until his strides matched her own small ones, keeping them much slower than his preferred stride. “Sorry,” Was quick to leave his mouth as his hands shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket. Pointless for a warm night, especially considering it covered a fucking flannel. Spencer tried to hide the chuckle that fell from his lips, though it was pointless considering the bubbling sound could be heard. It was soon overpowered by the sound of the outside sound lingering from Jackson’s down the street. Home. His pride and joy, the one thing he felt proud to call his own; that and his bike, of course. Then male turned to peer at her, ocean hues lit with humour and mischief, “Do you want me to seduce you? I’ve heard I’ve only gotten better.” Truthfully, he had no intention of that; maybe taking her mind off whatever was plaguing her thoughts-- then again, for old times sake, anything was possible.
clementine wyatt.
What little composure she had was quickly broken, the exhaustion, the frustration, the thoughts rattling in her skull of the unresolved issues here in California mixing with the aggressive from Spencer and creating the perfect storm. She’s running away from her problems yet again by no choice of her own and, as expected, he lacks a certain sympathy. As if this somehow is harder for him than for her, as if she’s already a burden he has to take on and not an ultimatum he made all by himself. Small talk with the Wyatt’s is always a pleasure, ‘good to see you,’ ‘ good to see you too,’ ‘I know you just got into a big domestic dispute, baby sister, are you okay?’
Yeah, right.
“You know what? Fuck this. No, actually? Fuck you, if I had anyone else in the world I coulda called I would’ve, you know that? That smug fuckin’ look on your face like you didn’t have some close calls, like you haven’t gotten in trouble before. This is the first time in my life besides what? One detention my junior year? And you’re on your high horse?” Since when does he talk to her like that? They had their problems as kids, adults in the same space so rare these days, always filled with an awkward sort of politeness, tense and short-lived conversations. This was different, this was real. “Can’t really blame you, must be hard to have these good old fashion Wyatt family fights when everyone left, right? Is that why you’re trapping me back home? Wanna feel like the good old days again? Fighting over the bathroom and the last strip of bacon at breakfast? Come on.”
Not now, my God, not now. She wasn’t always an angry crier, honest, in fact it was a very, very rare occurrence and yet — her voice cracks, making her both more pissed off and more sensitive, arms crossing defensively over her chest, willing pooling tears back to where they fucking came from. Damn her lack of sleep, damn this situation. Embarrassing.
“Newsflash, Spence, this isn’t a fucking family anymore, there’s no one left and we’re all fucked. That ended when mom and dad died. If I’m getting on a bus I’m not going to Phoenix so make up your mind; are you dealing with the consequences of bringing me back home or are we just gunna call this a wash on move on because I’m not doing this drama shit for the next six months just for you to kick me out anyways.”
.
He could hear her words ring in his ears. She would have called anyone else if she could have? Well, why didn’t she? She stayed away long enough, she must have had some friends somewhere who could have helped her out. Clearly not. Spencer wanted to argue his point, instead he merely shook his head with his mouth in a straight long, hands on his hips. God, he resembled their father and for fucks sake, he hated it. And damn her for putting him in such a fucking position. The position of being disappointed. The problem was, how did he explain to her that didn’t want her to be like him; the charges, the little stunts. He wanted her to be better. Better than their brother even, who ran from his problems than faced them. Better than Wyatt, who used his fists rather than his words, in turn only causing more trouble. Though he didn’t want to say he was disappointed, he was. She was better than this.
He knew his past didn’t look good, nor was he proud of it. But he was a goddamn adult now, who was willing to face his mistakes-- He just didn’t outwardly like being called out for them. Then the conversation came from the evident pedestal he held himself on to their family. The majority of them being dead. Wyatt knew the childhood days and memories wouldn’t ever come to fruition again, nor did he expect it too. Not with just the two of them, but he wanted some semblance of hope for reconciliation. For family. This wasn’t looking good. “If you knew anything,” Spencer began with a shake of his head, his voice quiet and firm. There was almost a venom to his tone, one that held its ground, “You’d know it isn’t like that.” With him taking over the bar came a large profit change, giving himself and his staff better income. Yet, there was no chance to be given for that to be seen. Why did he even fucking care in the first place? Because he was her fucking brother and he loved her.
The next words to leave her mouth hit him like a brick to the chest, and fuck her for ever saying it. Though they all parted ways, he had hope. Maybe it was futile, moot, like everything else in his goddamn life. He didn’t want to see his sister break before him, but he also wouldn’t allow the conversation to continue. Wyatt held his hands up in defeat; he wasn’t fighting for something he only wanted in order to help better her. Help her to help figure it out. “You either get in the fuckin’ truck, Tiny,” His hand shot back to point towards the vehicle, “Or you’re on your own. I’m not doin’ this again.” Just like she wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t bail her out the second time (yes he would, but he wouldn’t say that now), just like their father threatened him.
Spencer didn’t bother to wait for her response before turning on his heel and walking towards the black Toyota. “Make up your mind.”
royce underwood.
~
“Yeah? And who might that be? Something tells me you’re yanking my chain here for your own benefit, man.” Roy hadn’t known Wyatt all that well. Nothing more than casual conversation that came from frequenting the bar so often, becoming what could be called a regular of some sort, but he knew him enough to joke around and act like a damn nuisance. He dished out the whiskey with no questions asked, and to Roy, he’d appreciated it more than he knew, he was sure. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just make it a stiff one and I’ll consider.” The taunt on his tongue grew into a smirk on his mouth. “Who’s the unlucky gal?”
.
Did he answer honestly and say his ex-wife? Probably not. Instead, Wyatt allowed a shit-eating grin to plaster itself on his face as he shrugged his one shoulder. He kept his mouth for while he prepared the drink. Only when it was ready did he slide it in front of the other and open his mouth to speak, “I don’t know man, maybe you should ask your sister.” Not as great as the wife, but he knew Taelyr well enough to use her name. Hell, the damn woman busted his balls enough. “Her and I plan to ride the good ol’ Ferris Wheel together. Maybe we’ll even smooch at the top.” No.
2 / 16 / 40
2 … Last kiss?
"Not too long ago."
16 … Last heartbreak?
"Well, I went to have a plate of fries, turns out one of my bartenders decided to snag the entire fuckin' thing. My heart was completely goddamn broken."
40 … Last time you lied?
"I told someone I was closed when I wasn't, I just didn't wanna give them a beer."
5, 10 & 19
5 … First thing you check when you open your phone?
"If it ain't my messages it's the weather. Gotta figure out which weight of flannel to wear."
10 … Last show you binged watched?
"Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the cartoon."
19 … First time you fell in love?
"--A conversation for another time."