|I Fell Again
Author: countrygirls86 PM
She knew he would forever have her heart. Once, mistakenly, she thought she had it back, but he proved she never will. She hoped she wouldn't miss him when he left, but knew she would. He was a man she shouldn't love. What happens when she faces the truthRated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,736 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 4 - Published: 03-03-09 - id: 4900391
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
They say that love's a chace you take.
You know I've had my share.
But when the nights get oh so cold,
I need you there.
Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the man next to her. She wished she had better self-control, but she didn't. This man had always been her weakness, even before she knew anything about him. Going to football games just to see him run and to hear his name being called over the speakers. Tossing books aside to go to parties with her friends hoping to see him. She had always done things unlike herself for him. The man she knew, from the first time they talked, would forever have her heart. She had thought sometime in the past year he'd given it back to her, but sitting here now she realized it was her imagination playing tricks on her. She never had it back. She never would ever again. She sighed, closing her eyes and smiling when she heard the familar echo. She thought about all the other men she had dated before and after him. Terry, Parker, Bill, Brian, Ted, Jack, and a couple men from her scrapbook. To a point, she had loved each and every one of them. Terry and Parker for a long amount of time, but deep down neither had felt right. Of course, they were good men, and treated her the way she had always dreamed of being treated. Still, something had been missing. Bill and Ted had only been for one date each, but she had fun both times. They were special memories to her. Brian. He came close to being the one. Everything was perfect about him, and she knew he loved her so dearly. Still, something had been missing. Jack had been even closer than Brian. He had just messed things up so badly. Making her the other woman and putting her through so much when he had left for such a long period of time. If he would have been honest, he might have had a chance. Opening her eyes, she stared at the golden haired, tan man beside her. With him, there had never really been something missing. During their weak moments as a couple, she had to admit she wondered why she loved him, but still she felt he had everything she wanted. Allowing her eyes to trace his arm, she bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to touch him. She didn't last long before her hand lifted from her lap and hovered over his arm. Did she really want to risk him waking up? It could be a terribly embarassing moment. She would need an excuse, something that he would believe. Finding one quickly, she let her hand pull his arm away from his chest, smiling excitedly when he didn't move or stop snoring. She held his arm up with one hand as the other outlined his fingers. What was she doing? This was dangerous. Forcing his hand to curve, she placed it against her cheek, closing her eyes at the contact. Of course, she wanted him to do this on his own, but for now she could live with this. She smiled against the palm of his hand, missing their mornings and nights. Times when it was just the two of them, holding and talking, laughing and teasing. Times when she would wake up to his sparkling blue eyes and shiny white teeth. Waking up, knowing he hadn't left the bed until she awoke like she had asked him the night before. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and run along the line of his hand. She opened her eyes, pulling his hand away from her cheek. She intertwined their fingers with one hand, and wiped the tear track off her cheek with the other. She giggled at the beauty before her, forcing her eyes to travel up his arm and stop on his lips. She placed the back of his hand against her chest above her heart, moving slightly closer to the couch. Licking her own lips, she wondered how far she was going to go tonight. Obviously, she didn't have any control over her actions, and couldn't be held responsible for anything she was to do. She did have a few glasses of wine at dinner. He knew what she could be like after wine. With a small nodd of her head, she leaned onto the couch, pausing to watch him. He had stopped snoring, his mouth closed almost all the way. Was he awake, scared of who was leaning over him? Or did he know it was her and was waiting to see what she would do? She closed her eyes, ignoring the questions as she placed her cheek next to his but still not touching. The warmth that spread between them filled her entire body with a heated adrenline rush. She pulled back, slightly, her lips now just above his.
They say that love's a chance you take.
You know I've had my share.
But when the nights get oh so cold,
I need you there.
She wanted to kiss him, wanted to hold him, and wanted to love him, but how could she when he was no longer her's. How could she when he didn't love her? She would only be setting herself up for heartache, and did she really want to go through that again? The woman let go of his hand, pushed herself away from the couch, and walked into the kitchen. No, she didn't want that heartache ever again, and if ignoring what she felt for Brock was the best way to do it then she would. Reba stopped behind the counter, looking into the living room. He had rolled onto his side, snoring again. She shook her head at her stupidity. She had almost blown everything. Turning to the refrigerator, she grabbed the carton of milk, four eggs, butter, and a water bottle. She set all the items on the counter, starting the coffee maker. She was running behind on breakfast. Brock would be awake any minute now, and she didn't want him to miss a good breakfast on his last day. She quickly scrambled the eggs, cooked some bacon, made two slices of toast, placed it all on a plate, and filled his mug full of coffee. She set both the plate and mug on the table, walking into the living room quickly. She eased outside, grabbing the newspaper from the driveway, and entered the house again. Reba stood by the door, hugging the newspaper to her chest, and watched him sleep. He wasn't any good for her, but that wasn't an issue anymore. She loved him, and deep down that was all that really mattered.
Silly me, I fell in love again.
We started out as friends.
You'd think I would have learned.
Oh foolish me.
Walking to the couch, she sat on the coffee table with the newspaper still tightly wrapped in her arms. Letting out the breath she was holding, Reba pushed his shoulder gently. Brock moaned before rolling over. Reba rolled her eyes, lifting her legs up. She was not in the mood to mess with his mood this morning. She placed both her feet on his back before kicking him one right after the other.
"I'M UP!" Brock shouted as he rolled onto his back, trapping her feet in the process. He rubbed his eyes before looking at Reba. Smirking at him, she sat with the newspaper resting in her lap and her hands supporting her as she leaned backwards. "Did you have to kick me?" The smirk turned into a smile, and she shrugged her shoulders.
"I was bored, and you wouldn't wake up. It happened. Can I have my feet back now?" Brock shook his head, resting his arm against her legs. He could smell the food and coffee from the other room, but he didn't feel like getting up. He wasn't feeling any better than the night before. Reba could see the strained look on his face, and wondered what was bothering him. Did he know what she had done just a few minutes ago? Was he trying to find a way to reject her while he had her trapped? Reba's heart raced a mile a minute before he coughed and she remembered he was sick. Pushing herself forward, she wrapped one arm around her legs and placed the other hand on his forehead. "You're burnin' up. Did you take the medication I gave you last night?" Brock nodded his head, placing one of his own hands over her's to keep the cold coming from it on his forehead.
"You're hands are freezing. Are you ok, Reba?" She pulled her hand away, trying to lift his body off her feet with little luck. She gave up, falling backwards onto the coffee table. She used her hands as support again as she looked at him.
"I'm worried, Brock. You haven't gotten any better, and now you have a fever. I think we should take you to the doctor." She ignored his question. She had him to take care of and to worry about for now. It wasn't like she was sick anyways. She had just been sitting in the cold living room. Nothing to be concerned about. "Come on, get up. I've made breakfast." Brock lifted up his back, waiting for her to pull her feet away before sitting up. Reba left the living room, placing the newspaper on the table for him to read when he finally made his way into the kitchen. She cleared her throat, calling for him to hurry up before his food got cold. She picked up the phone, calling the doctor's office to set up an appointment. Reba hung up the phone as Brock sat down at the kitchen table. It had taken him long enough, she thought before joining him. It didn't take long for him to notice she didn't have a plate.
"You gonna eat?" He raised an eyebrow, knowing when she didn't eat breakfast she had a lot on her mind. Reba shook her head, sipping her coffee for a little more time. Brock watched her in between bites, hoping everything was ok, or at least if it wasn't she would tell him.
"I already ate. I didn't sleep well last night so; I got up early this morning. I checked on you about an hour ago. You sounded like you were sleeping soundly." Reba hinted at her earlier actions, attempting to get him to slip up. She needed to know if he knew her secret. Brock nodded his head, telling her about his dream. Reba zoned out when he began some type of story involving golf and a bra commercial. She waited for him to finish before leaving the room. She ran a hand over her face as she climbed the stairs. She needed a long hot shower. Brock watched her leave the kitchen, hoping she didn't listen to what he just said. His dream did have a golf course, but it had nothing about playing the game. He wiped at his forehead, finishing his breakfast quickly. He had to stop dreaming about her. She might be the best thing to ever cross his path, but he couldn't be with her. He couldn't want her anymore. She was off limits, and wouldn't give him a second chance even if the world was ending. Brock decided to leave her alone for rest of the morning, washing the dishes silently. When he finished that, the only thing he needed to do was pack the last of his things. He frowned, having to leave her was not one of his favorite things. As a matter of fact, it didn't even qualify for his dislike list. It was horrible, and he knew it would hurt him later. It was just something he had to do. She didn't want him anymore. Probably, deep down, she didn't even like him. She was just being his friend for the kids' sake. Brock shook his head, placing the last of his clothes in a suitcase, zipping it up quickly. Taking that one and the other two out to his car, he listened as the shower in Reba's bathroom shut off. He closed his eyes, wishing they were still married.
Reba walked out of her room, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a loose t-shirt. She planned on helping Brock move his things into his apartment and unpack what had already been taken over the past couple of days. She descended the stairs just as Brock came back inside from taking his suitcases to his truck. She smiled at him, loving the way the sunlight glowed against his skin. She stopped on the last stair, waiting for his instructions. If she had learned anything from being his wife, it was that he liked being in charge while moving. He had his own little system that worked quite well in her opinion.
"Hey, I think I can fit the rest of my things in the back seat of my truck so; you won't have to help me today....Uh, thanks for letting me stay here for so long, Reba." Brock walked over to her from the front door. He had already packed most of the items he needed, and had decided to start his goodbye. He couldn't believe it had finally came, and it was so hard. Deep down, maybe he knew this would seem impossible. Maybe he liked pretending it was a piece of cake. With the last two boxes sitting by the door, Reba knew what was coming next. She hated goodbyes more than anything, especially from this man. Neither one knew how long it would be before they talked again, and didn't want to rush their last few words. Reba nodded her head, looking to the floor for all her answers. Their silence lasted hours it felt like, but in reality had only been a few seconds. Brock played with his hands, looking over his shoulder at the boxes. "Umm...you set the doctor's appointment up for me?" Reba nodded once again, remembering she hadn't told him when it was.
"Yeah, it's on Monday at 3:30. I guess I'll pick Jake up from school, and Henry and Elizabeth up from daycare. You know, since you'll be busy." Brock nodded his head this time. Reba glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. Why did this have to be so hard? It wasn't like they weren't ever going to talk again. They had agreed to be friends again, and friends did things together, didn't they? She could always offer to make him lunch like she had been the past two and half months. "Well, uh, you sure you don't need any help? I wouldn't mind." She rolled her eyes. She had chickened out. What did she have to be scared about? It wasn't like he could hurt her again. They weren't even a couple. She started for the door, waiting by the boxes for his answer. Brock watched her, noticing the nervous scared behavior. Was she afraid of truly being alone now? She shouldn't be. The kids would be home on Sunday, and Barbra Jean was sure to stop by. He shook his head, finding it rediculous. She was probably excited he was leaving. She had to be tired of having her ex-husband around all the time.
"No, I've got it, but thanks anyways." Brock bent down to pick up one of the boxes. Reba took it upon herself to carry the other one out to his truck for him. They walked side by side in complete silence as his truck got closer and closer. Neither one looked at the other until both boxes were in the back seat. Reba held back the tears as she listened to the doors close quietly. It was really happening. He was leaving her again, and the pain felt almost as bad as it did the first time. She wondered if going through the same hurt as before could kill you. She took a deep shaky breath, waiting for him to talk. There was no point in dwelling on these things. He wasn't her's to cry over anymore. Brock continued to face his truck, watching her reflection in the shiny red paint. She wiped quickly at her cheek, hiding it well as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Was she sad he was leaving? Was he hurting her in the same way he did before? He felt anger boil inside, but not at her. He was angry with himself for being so stupid, for not realizing this would bring old memories and feelings back to the surface for her. Brock cleared his throat, turning back around to face her. He saw her guard shoot up, and he immediatly pulled his up as well. They may have been friends, but after years of hurting each other it was only a natural reaction. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to over stay his welcome either. He had put it off long enough, and decided a quick goodbye would be the best.
"I better go." Brock walked away from her, climbing into his truck without turning to look at her. Reba took a deep breath, stepping towards his passenger window and tapping on it softly. Rolling it down, he kept his eyes on the steering wheel, turning the key in the ignition. Reba let her breath out, wrapping her arms around her chest and begging for the comfort it usually brought.
"I'll see ya later." She smiled, incase he was to look up, and stepped back from the truck. She hoped the phrase would let him know she wanted to see him again. She waved shortly as he pulled away from the curb, leaving her outside her house alone. Reba waited for a few mintues, allowing the breeze to blow her hair freely, before walking back inside her house. The quiet empty house that was all her's for the weekend. She sighed, frowning when there wasn't an echo to answer her. She missed him already. Feeling the tears slip down her cheeks again, she pushed away from the door. She let them fall as they pleased, figuring no one was going to come over today anyways. She flopped down on the couch, still covered in the blankets he used, and curled into a ball. He was gone, and probably wouldn't come over anytime soon.