The Weekend

Chapter One

Reba Hart stood at the foot of her bed as she packed the suitcase that sat atop her navy blue comforter. She had had a long, gruelling day and the last thing she wanted to do was drive eight hours to meet her children, but here she was; packing for that very reason. Not only did she have quite the drive ahead of her, she was also going to be stuck in a car, alone, with Brock for eight hours. She knew god had a sense of humour, but she didn't know he was that funny.

Reba rolled her eyes as she placed the last item of clothing in her suitcase and pulled the zipper across its track, sealing the deal on the trip to come. It was the last long weekend of the summer and lord knows, everyone and their mother would be on the road heading to their cottages and whatnot. Reba could smack Barbra Jean for being the mastermind behind this foolish plan, but she was already in Lubbock at her uncles lake house, bless her heart. Reba narrowed her eyes as the thought passed through her mind.

Barbara Jean and the kids had driven down the day before and because Brock and Reba both had jobs and couldn't get the extra day off, they had to wait to drive down. Reba would've said no if the kids hadn't been so insistent and, although she didn't want to admit it, she could use a weekend away. It was the getting there that caused her so much apprehension.

"Reba? Are you ready?" She heard the familiar voice shouting at the bottom of the stairs below. Maybe she should've thrown back a few jell-o shots first.

Reba grabbed the handle on her suitcase, pulling it out before rolling it down the hallway. She held a pillow underneath her arm and wore an unimpressed look on her face as she descended the stairs with suitcase in hand. Brock quickly took her bag from her before letting out a slight chuckle.

"What's with you?"

"I had a long, bad day and believe it or not, I don't really want to spend the next eight hours trapped in a car with my ex-husband." Reba ended with a huff, running her hand through her long red locks. Brock just rolled his eyes.

"God, Reba, lighten up. Did you ever stop to think that maybe this could be fun? Maybe like old times?"

"Yeah, except that was back when your hair wasn't dyed and your tan was natural. The mirror can back me up on this one, Brock, a lot has changed." Reba gave him a sickly-sweet grin before pushing passed him and walking out of the door.

"This is going to be a pleasant ride." Brock muttered to himself, but closed his lips tightly when he saw Reba look over her shoulder and shoot him a glare.

"I heard that, you mo-ron." He locked the door behind him and followed Reba to his SUV, all the while wondering if Barbara Jean's plan had really been such a good one.

As soon as they hit the freeway, Reba fell asleep almost immediately and Brock found himself hoping she'd sleep off her bad mood. He'd love nothing more than to enjoy this trip with the woman he used to consider his best friend; he missed having fun with her.

Reba stirred a bit beside him causing Brock to take his eyes off of the road for a moment to look at her. Her head was resting on the pillow that was pressed against the window and her mouth hung open as she slept. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her. He wished he had a camera and wasn't behind the wheel so he could snap a photo of it. He knew if she saw herself in that state, her cheeks would flush the same shade as her hair.

Brock hit a bump and swerved, quickly darting his eyes back to the road. Reba's head moved from the pillow long enough for it to fall from her grip, causing her head to hit a pillow-less window. Her eyes quickly darted open and Brock heard the clunk of her head against the glass. He flinched and waited for the yelling to commence.

"Ow! What the heck, Brock, drive much?"

"There was a racoon." He lied, watching Reba rub her temple out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, right." Reba rolled her eyes, knowing full well Brock was full of it. "How long was I out?" She asked once the throbbing of her head ceased.

"About an hour." Brock looked behind his shoulder, checking his blind spot before pulling out into the passing lane.

"It's getting dark already, I can't believe summers over." She reached forward and pressed the seek button on the radio until settling on a country station. Brock smiled to himself, she hasn't changed a bit.

"I know, it'll be Christmas before we know it."

Reba was about to respond when suddenly the soft music of the song hit her ears and she closed her mouth. She reached for the volume nob on the dash and turned it up before settling back in her seat. Brock recognized the song and knew he had heard her play it before. He decided to stay silent in hopes she would get lost in the music and sing along.

Reba looked out of the window and listened to the lyrics as she watched the fields pass by.

The face of an angel, pretty eyes that shine.

I lie awake at night, wishing you were mine.

I'm standing here holding the biggest heartache in town,

Whenever you come around.

It had been so long since she had heard this song and a smile overtook her lips as she remembered how much she loved it. Before she could stop herself, she began to sing along with Vince Gill's sweet voice.

I get weak in the knees and I lose my breath.

Oh, I try to speak, but the words won't come I'm so scared to death.

And when you smile that smile, the world turns upside down.

Whenever you come around.

As soon as that angelic voice hit his ears, Brock felt his chest contract. She hit every note perfectly, just as she always had, and he realized how much he had missed that sound. Nothing made him smile more than when he'd come home from work and she'd be singing in the kitchen as she prepared dinner or when he'd walk into a room and she'd be holding Kyra in her arms and singing her a lullaby. He knew if she hadn't put her dreams on hold to pay for his dental school, she would've been a singer, and a successful one at that.

I feel so helpless, I feel just like a kid.

What is it about you that makes me keep my feelings his?

I wish I could tell you, but the words can't be found.

Whenever you come around.

The words hit Reba harder than she had expected; she remembered all of the nights she had been listening to this song while cleaning the kitchen. She remembered how Brock would sneak up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She remembered how he'd take her hand and lead her to the middle of the kitchen before the two of them would hold each other close as they danced to the music.

Reba exhaled sharply and bit her lip. Of all the times these memories could flood her mind, it had to be when she was alone with her ex in a car for eight hours. It had been six years, but every once in awhile the good memories would rush back and remind her of what once was.

"I remember this song." Brock said, finally remembering why it sounded so familiar. "We've danced to it. In the kitchen. After dinner clean up." The memory was bittersweet, pain and happiness fighting hard against each other in his chest. When their relationship had been good, it had been good. They had shared so much love, the love they had given up. The love he had been selfish with and ruined.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about that." Reba felt uncomfortable almost immediately and rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans.

"We had some good times." Brock said absentmindedly.

Reba nodded, but didn't respond as she listened to the music fading from the speakers. She was thankful the song was over. She didn't like to remember what she was missing, what she'd always miss.