A/N: This is the followup to You'll Get It And Be Gone. I wasn't going to write one, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here we are.
Also, this will be in two parts. As of right now, it is just shy of 20,000 words (and I'm not done), and I know how intimidating that can be to read all at once. So you'll want to 'alert' this story if you want to read the second part!
----
She'd told him to move on.
Well? She'd told him a hell of a lot of other things, too. Like she loved him. Like she didn't want to be without him. Like she wished she'd met him before she met the other guy.
And yet she still walked away.
He didn't want to move on, and it was too fucking hard sometimes to even think about it, let alone to actually try. He couldn't talk to anyone about it, since no one really knew what had been going on in the first place, and then when they'd ask, he'd get angry and tell them it was nothing or to mind their business. He spent the better part of three months drunk and miserable and selfishly hoping that she was miserable to.
He didn't really want her to be, he just didn't want to admit that.
Because he didn't fall in love. It wasn't something he'd ever really done, and then when it happened, it all crashed and burned. Well, he thought, fuck love. He didn't need it. He had his store, and he had his family, though they were less than impressed with the way he'd been acting.
In a haze of scotch and the perfume lingering on that sweater she'd left at his place, he grabbed his laptop and started writing about her. She'd always told him that if he wanted to write, then he should write.
Well, he was going to write. He was going to write about her, because she was the most exciting, thrilling, beautiful, amazing thing that had ever happened to him, and if he couldn't have her, he at least wanted his memories. He didn't want to ever forget a moment he spent with her. He changed names and details, but he wrote their whole relationship because it made him feel better - alive - to have it existing somewhere other than in his own mind and heart.
And it was beautiful, the writing. It was moving and tragic and beautifully broken, just like their relationship had been. No one questioned where it had come from, and when Haley finally did, he'd shrugged his shoulders and told her that maybe it had always been in him.
The story, the love, the heartache.
He hadn't lied.
A couple years after he finished the novel, an amazing 500 pages based on only a few months of his actual life, Haley and Nathan talked him into sending it to some publishers and looking into getting an agent. Well, Haley talked. Nathan threatened. Lucas wasn't sure which tactic was more effective, but he took their advice. Within six months, he'd found a publishing house in New York, a literary agent who was going over contracts, and was meeting with his editor at a bar in New York City.
The whole time, all he could think about was the time Peyton told him she loved New York, and she'd mentioned something about taking a trip there; a trip they both knew they'd never take.
He wanted desperately to call her. To hear her voice and tell her about his successes and have her maybe tear up and say she was proud of him.
Maybe tell him she was divorced and she missed him and it had been him since she'd met him.
But even though he had her number memorized, he opted not to call. She'd told him not to, and he couldn't get pulled back into it all again. He didn't need material for a sequel.
No one, maybe especially not him, expected him to fall for his editor. It happened quickly, because she was forward in a sweet way, and he was reluctant to open up, but the way she spoke to him had him wondering if she was more right for him than he'd ever imagined he'd be able to find. He'd written off love, the whole thing, and yet he found himself saying the words to her after only six months together. She was delicate with him, and he was the one who seemed to be calling the shots, and it was a nice change for him to not be basically following orders.
He still missed Peyton. Every goddamn day. He never told anyone. He hardly wanted to admit it to himself.
When he proposed to Lindsey, it was because he was starting to get the feeling that she was holding her breath waiting for him to ask. So he asked. And he wasn't against it, really. She was amazing, and he loved her in his own way. She didn't realize that he didn't love her the way he was really capable of loving someone. She was blissfully unaware of how much he had the potential to feel for someone.
For the right someone.
But that someone had come and gone and was with someone else, and it was stupid and selfish, but he hoped Peyton felt the same way he did. He hoped she knew she was settling, giving half her heart to someone and getting a whole heart in return that she knew would never be enough.
It wasn't until three days before the wedding that he realized he was...well, fucking himself over. He was writing. It had been two years since he'd really and honestly worked on anything, and he found himself writing a heroine and picturing Peyton in the role. The beautiful, tragic damsel in distress who had no clue she was in distress.
He was writing her again. He hit the delete button and pushed his chair back, and he told himself to get over it, to write something new, and to then get started on the list of last-minute wedding errands that Lindsey had left.
But when he was actively trying not to write about Peyton, he couldn't write at all. He had no story to tell that didn't involve her, or pieces of her, or dialogue she said, or descriptions she'd used.
He never did get started on that list. There were a few reasons. One, he was too busy getting onto the screen all those thoughts that were in his head. Two, he didn't want to stop writing (and writing that other woman).
Three, there wasn't going to be a wedding.
If he couldn't have Peyton, he didn't want anyone at all. He was sorry to have realized that so late, but it was true.
Lindsey left, and his house was empty, and his life was empty, and no one understood why he was doing what he was doing. He was back at square one. Alone, miserable, longing for something he may not ever get.
But the longing was better than the lying. To himself and to Lindsey.
The longing he could handle. He'd been doing it for years.
----
Peyton juggled the phone in her hand as she tried to pack a lunch and tidy the kitchen and do something with her hair and generally keep her head above water.
More and more often, she felt like she was absolutely drowning.
Because she was on the phone with her son's principal after hearing that he'd been causing trouble at his school - again - and not only was she angry at Mrs. Yates for insinuating that Elliot wasn't 'Gleneagles Prep material', but she was angry with the boy for acting out so much.
She also knew she'd have to put a call in to her ex-husband to tell him what had been going on with their son. And that was something she never looked forward to. Ever.
Despite her indiscretion - an affair that lasted months and had her falling in love with someone else - she never saw herself getting divorced. She certainly never saw herself going through a messy divorce with arguments over basically everything. It dragged on for a year, and now that she was on her own, part of her was relieved, and part of her was depressed. Genuinely depressed. The kind of depressed that had her contemplating seeing a shrink.
She was too stubborn for that. Plus, she had Brooke, who was generally more insightful than anyone else, despite - or maybe because of - the plain language she used.
She would have to call Brooke from the office. With her best friend working from home as she expected her first baby, it was pretty easy for Peyton to get ahold of her to talk whenever her heart desired. Brooke had married close to five years ago after meeting a movie producer at Sundance. They'd had a whirlwind romance and he'd moved to Wilmington and started his own production company. Now they were having a little girl and Peyton was happy for them. She was also jealous. Definitely.
She probably should have expected her universe to implode. Okay, so that was a little dramatic, but it was how she'd felt. She'd gotten away with an ongoing affair without anyone knowing, and she'd fallen in love - been in love with two men at the same time - and it was all a secret, and when she ended it, she just went back to her life like nothing had happened.
That wasn't entirely true. She thought about Lucas a lot in the year or so after she ended things. She wondered about him, and she wanted to call him (she'd memorized her number so she wouldn't have to have it in her phone). She wanted to know how he was and what he was doing and if he still thought he loved her like she still thought she loved him.
When she found out she was pregnant, the tears in her eyes were for so many things, she didn't know where to start. Happiness, relief, anticipation, fear. But also regret, remorse, panic, and absolute, soul-shaking terror. There was a part of her - a huge part of her that she wished didn't exist - that honestly thought that any baby she had should have been Lucas'. She hated it, and the guilt stressed her out, and through her whole pregnancy, her blood pressure was high. She'd been put on bed-rest for the last six weeks.
Brad was oblivious to all the reasons.
Or so she thought.
It wasn't until Elliot was almost eight that Peyton learned of her husband's affair. Apparently, it had been going on since their son was five. Peyton got a bitter taste of her own medicine when one of their mutual friends apologized to her and told her he'd seen Brad with Sonya, a woman who worked at Brad's company. She was 24, had gorgeous chocolate coloured hair, and the bluest eyes Peyton had ever seen. Peyton's hair was a mess that she hadn't had time to cut in a year, her eyes were tired and she rarely wore any makeup other than mascara anymore, and no matter how hard she'd tried over the years, she couldn't shed those last 10 pounds of the baby weight.
For the first time in her entire life, she felt ugly and unwanted. And not for the first time in her life, she was absolutely devastated.
When she'd confronted Brad, irate and sad and upset, she'd asked how he could do that to her, and he'd cocked his brow as if he were asking her the same question. He told her he'd known all along, that an old friend of his lived in Tree Hill and had been keeping tabs on Peyton for him since the night of that event when he'd seen Peyton talking to Lucas. She gasped and slapped him and she had no idea why. She was hurt, but she was more mad that he'd had her followed and that he'd let her live with him for years without saying anything. She reminded herself that it was her betrayal, not his.
Well, until she found out he was sleeping with someone else.
Their pre-nup was null and void, since she'd cheated on him, and he'd cheated on her. She was glad they'd added that clause, actually. She didn't need his money. Eli did. She'd do anything for their son.
But after the divorce was made final almost three months ago and she was Peyton Sawyer again after being Peyton Anderson for so long, she felt she was in a bit of a crisis. She felt like her son was the one suffering for it, and she hated herself for that. She wondered if, had she been faithful to Brad, they could have been happy forever.
But then she'd think of that other man, the one who's face she could honestly barely remember after so many years. She'd think of how that love had felt and how those moments had stuck with her, and she started thinking that maybe she was never really honestly happy with Brad at all. Maybe she'd only forced herself into thinking it.
She regretted ever yelling at Lucas for implying what she now knew to be true.
And now Brad was happily living with Sonya, and he saw their son only every second weekend, and Peyton had no idea what she was going to do, how she was going to keep herself smiling in front of Eli when all she wanted to do most days was cry and curse herself for tricking her heart for so long.
Her issues always took the back burner. She was a mom; that was the way it was, and she was fine with that. Focusing on Eli was the easiest thing, and it was also the one that took her mind off everything else.
"Elliot!" Peyton shouted as soon as she'd hung up the phone. It was only 8:00, and she was already exhausted. "Elliot!"
"What?" he asked casually, clearly not fazed by her yelling or angry tone. He strolled into the kitchen and perched himself on the stool at the counter across from her.
It'd be easier to be mad at him if he wasn't the most beautiful kid ever. Sure, her opinion was biased, but she didn't care. He had green eyes that matched hers and sandy blonde hair that was always a bit of a mess, but they both loved it that way. He was already dressed in his school uniform, the grey slacks, white shirt, and navy tie and cardigan, and she was thankful that she didn't have to tell him again to get ready for school.
"Did you punch Anthony Evans yesterday?" she asked, putting her hand on her hip and hoping to look intimidating.
"Maybe?" he said, flashing a grin at her, trying to get out of any kind of punishment.
"Why?" she asked. "Eli, you can't...This has to stop."
This was his third fight since she and Brad had decided to separate, and while it may not have seemed like a big deal - boys will be boys and all that - she didn't want him setting a precedent or getting a reputation for violence.
"He deserved it!"
"No. You do not hit people. Ever. That's just...That's not right," she insisted sternly. But curiosity got the best of her, and she found herself needing to know. "What did he do?"
"He said...That dad is going to marry Sonya, and then they'll have a baby and I'll be like, an orphan," he admitted, looking to his hands.
Peyton sighed deeply and closed her eyes, and she felt like crying, because as hard as the divorce had been on her, it was even harder on Elliot.
"Sweetie..."
"I know, mom, but..."
She rounded the counter and wrapped her arms around him from behind so that he couldn't move, and she rest her chin on his shoulder. "You will never, ever, be an orphan," she said softly, speaking right next to his ear. "You've got me, and your dad will always be there for you, even if he has another baby."
"Maybe," he mumbled.
"Eli," she said admonishingly. She moved so she was next to him and leaning on the counter. "Not maybe. Definitely. And...what, am I not good enough for you?" she teased. He smiled and rolled his eyes at her. "I mean, really. I'm the cool parent."
"You are not cool." He was laughing as he said it, and it warmed her heart.
"I'm cool!" she cried. "I'm cooler than most moms."
"I guess," Elliot conceded. He smiled at her, and she ran her hand through his hair. "Thanks mom."
"I need you to promise me something," she said seriously, leaving no room for jokes. He nodded his head like he knew what she was going to say, but she said it anyway. "No more fighting. None, Eli."
"I promise."
"And no video games for a week," she added.
"Mom!" he half-cried, half-whined.
"Don't push your luck, kid," she said. He sighed and crossed his arms just the way she always did when she was mad. "Oh, don't pout."
"It's not fair," he muttered.
"Is it fair that Anthony Evans is missing his front tooth?" she asked, raising her brow.
"It was loose anyway!" he said in his defense, like that made a big difference.
"Eli!" she laughed. "Go get your school books." He kissed her cheek quickly and hopped off his stool, and she shook her head as he ran from the kitchen.
She drove him to school that morning, and she had a casual chat with Anthony's mother, and there were no hard feelings at all. Jane, the other woman, insisted that she understood, and Peyton knew what that meant. Jane was divorced too, and she quietly told Peyton that she'd gone through a similar phase with Anthony. Peyton smiled and said thank you, and she waved to her son across the school yard before heading to her gallery.
She was hanging a painting she'd finished the week earlier, when her attention was stolen.
A man with a head of messy blonde hair walked past the window of the gallery, and she almost lost her balance.
It wasn't Lucas.
She wanted it to be.
Because of all the things that had happened since her divorce, maybe the most important realization she'd come to (well, finally admitted to) was that she missed him.
----
He was helping Haley bake treats for Jamie's end-of-the-year basketball party. Well, helping wouldn't be quite accurate. He was dipping his finger into the mixing bowl as he sat on her countertop and 'testing' all the treats as soon as they came out of the oven. She called him a 33-year-old boy, and he smiled like it was a compliment.
"Can I ask you something, Hales?"
"Sure," she said distractedly. She was finishing dishing batter into a cupcake mold.
"Do you believe all that shit about loving something and letting it go?" he asked. She looked at him admonishingly. She was always saying that for a writer, he often didn't speak eloquently enough to be thought of as one.
"I think I do," she said. "Look at Nathan and I in high school. I left."
"But it wasn't easy," he noted. "When you came back, I mean."
"No," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "But love isn't always easy." He nodded like she was making all the sense in the world. "Where's this coming from? Are you thinking about calling Lindsey?"
"What!? No!" he said quickly. "God no."
"Okay, it's not like she's a leper," Haley laughed. "And...she um...She got married a couple months ago." Lucas' eyes went wide and Haley looked at him apologetically. "Sorry. She just emailed me, and I didn't know how to tell you. Or if I should."
"No, it's alright. I'm happy for her," he said. He was. Well, he was indifferent, but happy sounded nicer.
She went back to her task, then took some cookies out of the oven before putting the cupcakes in. She had them all stacked into neat little piles - her kitchen was covered in cookies and cupcakes - and when she turned around to look at Lucas again, her face had changed.
"If not Lindsey, then who?" she asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity.
"No one," he lied, shrugging his shoulder. "I was just curious. Research. For an idea I've been working on."
He could see in her eyes, and her grin, and the way she nodded her head, that she really didn't believe him, and he couldn't really blame her.
But he was curious. In the two years since he almost got married, he'd thought of Peyton every day. All the time. Always.
He missed her. God, did he miss her.
----
It was that same night, when she was already so emotional and upset and feeling just really...strange over that case of mistaken identity, when Brad called her and stuttered out that he wouldn't be able to take Elliot for the weekend, like their schedule was set up for. He said he was going out of town for 10 days and he'd see Elliot when he came back.
She went from strange to pissed in approximately two and a half seconds.
"Brad, you can't do this to him," Peyton pleaded. "He needs you."
"He has me, Peyton. Don't be dramatic. I just can't reschedule this," Brad explained.
"Where are you going, anyway?" she asked. She realized it was none of her business, but he was still the father of her child, so she felt she had at least a little bit of a right to know.
"Sonya found a seat sale for Hawaii, and..."
"Are you kidding me?" Peyton asked angrily. She slammed her edge of her fist down on the granite countertop hard enough to make herself wince and almost cry out. "You're ditching your son to go on vacation?"
"I'm not ditching him," Brad insisted. "I'll see him when I get back. Sorry you have to change your plans"
"You're...this wasn't our agreement, Brad. And, I don't care about me. It's not about me." She let out a sigh and grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer for her hand, which was already bruising. "This isn't fair to him."
"He'll understand."
"No, he won't. He already thinks you're going to abandon him," she told him. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with him over the phone, but it just slipped out before she could stop herself.
"That's ridiculous," Brad scoffed.
"Is it?" she asked. He took too long to answer, and she was infuriated, and she didn't want to hear any more of his bullshit, so she slammed the phone down without saying another word.
She hated that. She always had to play the bad guy. She was the one who did all the talking when they told Eli about the separation, then the divorce. She had to put on a brave face and hold Eli's hand when he met Sonya for the first time, acting like it was the first time she was meeting the other woman, too, so that Eli wouldn't know of his father's affair.
And now she had to tell him that the weekend with his father that he'd been looking forward to wasn't going to happen.
It wasn't very often that she let herself even think that she hated Brad. This was one of those moments.
She was wiping a tear when Eli came into the kitchen in his little Carolina Hurricanes pajamas, and his face changed. She thought it was so sweet how much he worried about her that it made her cry even more.
"Mommy," he said quietly. He only ever still called her mommy when he was sad or she was sad. "What?"
"Ugh, this sucks," she sighed, tipping her head back. She wiped her face and looked down at him again, then gestured for him to get up onto the counter, which she rarely ever let him do. She placed her hands on either side of him once he was seated, so their eyes met. "Your dad isn't going to be around this weekend, Eli."
"Oh," he said dejectedly. "How come?"
"He's gotta go out of town for a little while. He says he's sorry," she told him. But really, she was thinking that if he was so sorry, he should be talking to Eli himself.
"Okay," he whispered. She hated how sad he looked. She could see that he was thinking about things, and she was going to ask him what was going on in his head, but he was so much like her that she knew he'd tell her if he wanted to. "Maybe...Would you be mad if I went to Julian and Brooke's house?" She smiled and he shrugged his shoulder. "I could hang out with them."
"You getting sick of me?" she teased. He rolled his eyes and she pulled him into a hug. "I'll call Brooke. You okay?"
"Yeah," he said, shrugging one shoulder again. "I guess so."
"Hey," she said, placing her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her. "You know you can tell me anything. Or Julian or Brooke."
"I know, mom."
"No secrets," she said seriously. He nodded, and she kissed his forehead. He'd stopped complaining about it - he kind of liked it that he was close to his mom. She turned back to the freezer to grab some actual ice for her now-purple hand, and he was still sitting there with a pensive look on his face when she turned around.
"Mom?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Are you mad at dad?" His face was so serious and his voice was so innocent somehow, that she wanted to tell him the whole story so that he'd understand it all better.
She smiled at him and almost laughed when she applied the ice to her hand. That was kind of his answer. "Sometimes," she admitted. "When he makes you sad."
"No. I mean for you," he clarified. "Are you ever mad at him for you?"
She grinned again, because despite his attitude sometimes and his acting out every once in a while, she really did have a great kid. "Sometimes," she answered honestly. "I'll go call Brooke, okay? You go start reading and I'll be up to tuck you in soon."
"'Kay," he said, jumping off the counter. She reached for the phone as he walked away, and he turned around before he exited the kitchen. "I'm mad at him for you sometimes," he said seriously. She tilted her head. She didn't know what to say. "Only sometimes."
"Go on," she said, because she didn't know what words would sound good after that.
----
Saturday morning, she packed a little bag for Eli and he buckled into the car so they could drive to Brooke and Julian's place. They were thrilled to have him overnight, and Brooke promised to make it a fun couple days, and Julian promised that he'd casually talk to Eli about the fighting. Peyton seriously wondered how she could ever feel alone when she had these two amazing friends on her side.
She pushed the door to the massive house open, and Brooke and Julian appeared in the foyer just in time to see Eli dropping his bag.
"Jules McGools!" Eli cried, holding up his hand for a high five. Peyton and Brooke burst into laughter and Julian beamed over the silly nickname.
"Eli McGeeli," Julian said. They all went quiet and Julian looked at Eli. "Yeah, yours is better." He rubbed his hands together as the women shook their heads at him. "You ready to help me with the nursery, buddy?"
"Yup," Eli said, showing enthusiasm. He was excited to have a 'cousin'. He couldn't wait. Julian had mentioned needing to finish assembling furniture and organizing shelves and all that, and Eli was happy to help.
"Thanks so much, you guys," Peyton said sincerely. She knelt in front of Eli and grasped his wrists. "Be good, okay baby?" He rolled his eyes, but nodded his head. "And Brooke knows you're not allowed to play video games, so if Julian lets you, you'll both be in trouble."
"You're mean," Eli said, though he was smiling. Julian just laughed and shook his head.
"Only 'cause I love ya," she said. She kissed his forehead, then stood up again. "Have fun."
"I will," Eli promised.
Brooke shot Julian a look that told him that she wanted time alone with Peyton, so he said they had a lot of work to do and the two boys headed up the stairs. Peyton shook her head as she watched Eli take the stairs two at a time, just as he'd been doing since he was able to do it.
"Are you really, okay? Because...you look like hell," Broke said candidly once they were alone.
"Thanks."
"Peyton..."
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Really. I am. He just wanted to see you guys, and...I dunno. I might take a little road trip or something." Brooke started shaking her head and looking even more worried. "I'll stay close. I just...I dunno."
"What's going on with you?" Brooke asked, her voice showing genuine concern.
Even after all these years, Peyton still hadn't told Brooke about the affair. She wanted to, really she did, but it was too hard to remember it and relive it, and she didn't want to admit it all. She didn't want to have to answer questions about Lucas, whether she had the answers or not. She didn't need to think about him any more than she already did.
"It's just...hard," Peyton admitted. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from tearing up. "I...hate Brad sometimes, Brooke."
"I know, sweetie," Brooke said, pulling Peyton into a side hug, since her 6-months-pregnant frame wouldn't allow for a proper embrace. "You always have us, though. You know that."
Peyton laughed and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Funny. I told Eli that the other day."
"It's true. For both of you," Brooke insisted, holding Peyton's hand loosely. "I promise."
"I know," Peyton whispered. "Thank you." She took a breath and Brooke smiled. "Call me if you need anything. I won't go far if I go someplace."
Truthfully, she'd scrapped the road trip plan as soon as she'd spoken it. She knew where she'd go, and she wasn't sure she'd be welcome there. She wasn't she'd like what she might find there, either.
"How about you call me if you need anything," Brooke said, kinking her brow. Peyton smiled and rolled her eyes.
"See you tomorrow."
"Bye, Peyton," Brooke sang, shaking her head as Peyton walked back to her car.
She left the house and drove around Wilmington for a while, heading out of town on back roads just to get lost for a little bit with her music and her thoughts. Well, she tried to think of as little as possible. She let herself get carried away in melodies and words that probably meant too much or not enough at any given moment. The music wasn't just there, it was there. Just like it always was.
Then she decided that she could make the most of her time alone. Usually on her weekends without Eli, she'd spend a little time with Brooke and Julian. She figured that she'd go to lunch, check out the old record store that she didn't seem to get a chance to go to anymore, maybe go to a movie. She might check with her salon and see if they could fit her in for a hair cut. She'd just be fine. She'd have a good day, and she'd go home and sleep alone in her bed like she did every night, and then she'd go over and pick up her son tomorrow.
And as soon as she'd laid out that whole plan, she realized how fucking pathetic it sounded.
But she'd do it, because she figured it was more pathetic to go home and sit in her empty house and do nothing all afternoon.
She'd just parked a couple blocks away from one of her favourite restaurants, and she dropped her keys on the ground. She bent down to pick them up, and she didn't notice the person rounding the corner.
He almost didn't see her. He almost tripped over her. He was texting Haley, and he stopped short just before he ran onto her, and when she stood up, their eyes locked and they were each too surprised to say a word. She honestly thought she might cry, but she wouldn't let herself. Despite how emotional she already was, and how hard her heart was beating, and how she wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him that she missed him more than should be allowed, she just stared at him, hoping he'd be the first to speak.
He wasn't.
"Hi," she said, only because she couldn't take the silence anymore.
"Hi." He was completely distracted by how good she looked in her casual outfit of jeans and a Fall Out Boy tee shirt. He was convinced she was the only woman in the world who, at 36, could still wear a Fall Out Boy tee shirt and not look ridiculous.
Not only that, but he couldn't believe that they hadn't seen each other in 10 years, and here they were, standing in front of one another on a random sidewalk in Wilmington.
"How...What...Wow," she stuttered. She brushed the hair from her face and he noticed the absence of a ring. But, he thought a little bitterly, that didn't tend to mean much with her.
"How are you?" he asked, because it seemed he was finding it easier to find words than she was.
"I'm...good. Surprised. And...wishing I was wearing a nicer outfit," she admitted in a surge of girlish stupidity. He didn't say anything, just flashed her that smirk, that one she used to feel the need to kiss any time she saw it.
Yup. Still wanted to kiss it.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, and it sounded a little too accusatory. She looked at him apologetically, but he didn't seem fazed.
"Going for a walk with you?" he suggested hopefully.
She smiled and nodded her head just slightly. "Sure," she said quietly.
It was at least five minutes before she could even think to say anything worth saying. She'd thought of this moment probably too many times. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe her imagination had run so wild that now that she was in the moment, she couldn't think clearly enough to make it a great one.
"So, how have you been?" he asked casually, like they'd only been apart for a couple weeks. Two old friends catching up.
"Um...You know. I've had better days," she said. He looked over at her and she held up her left hand. "Divorced."
"Oh," he said, like he was honestly surprised. He wasn't sure he was. "Wow."
"And I...have a son," she explained. She smiled, not because she wanted to rub it in, but because she couldn't help herself when she talked about her son. "He's nine."
"What's his name?"
"Eli," she said, looking over at him. "Elliot."
"I like it," he said softly. "Eli."
"Yeah." They were walking slowly. Almost too slowly. Barely moving at all. She wondered if he wanted to prolong this little walk as long as she did. "What about you? Married? Five kids running around?"
She only said it because she needed to know. Immediately.
He actually scoffed. "No." He shook his head. "I mean...almost married," he explained before realizing that made it sound like it was upcoming. "I was engaged a couple years back, but...It didn't work out."
"Oh. Lucas, I'm sorry," Peyton said. She suspected they both knew that she wasn't, not really.
"I'm not." He smiled when she did. She brushed the hair from her face with her right hand, and he took note of the bruise there. "Whoa. What happened to your hand?" he asked worriedly. He picked up her left hand and ran his thumb delicately over the angry looking purple bruise there.
She tried not to let her heart race. She tried to ignore how amazing his touch still felt. She tried to keep herself from thinking that this was going anywhere.
"I think my son gets his quick temper from me," she said cryptically. He looked at her questioningly. "I got into a scrap with my kitchen counter. It won."
"Yeah, I think it'll win every time." They both laughed, and he let go of her hand, but he didn't really want to.
They were quiet again and Peyton took a moment to really let herself look at him. He'd changed. His features had hardened, and his shoulders were a bit broader. He was still in amazing shape - she could tell by the way he wore his button down and jeans.
"I wrote a book," he announced, because he thought she'd want to know, and he wanted to tell her.
"What?!" she cried, stopping in her tracks. "How did I not know that?"
"Because I wrote it under a pen name."
"Why?" she asked, furrowing her brow. Because it's about you, he wanted to say. He just shrugged his shoulders instead. "That's...that's amazing, Lucas. Really."
"Thanks," he said, smiling at the genuinely happy look on her face. He wondered how often she looked like that. Or how often she didn't. "I'm actually shopping my second one."
"Shopping it?"
He laughed to himself and looked to the ground. "Right," he said quietly. "The former fiancée was actually my editor, so..."
"Brilliant," she laughed, shaking her head.
"Yeah, I can pick 'em, can't I?" he said before really thinking. She glowered playfully and then shook her head.
"You've grown up," she noted, like she was in awe of it or something.
"It's been 10 years, Peyton," he said. That suddenly seemed like an insane amount of time, considering he could still remember perfectly the way she used to say his name when he kissed her in certain places. "You've grown up too."
"Don't remind me," she laughed.
"Stop it. You look exactly the same."
"You're a liar," she insisted, and he rolled his eyes. "But thanks, I guess."
He wondered where her confidence went. Where that insane and often infuriating stubbornness went. Where was her sense of self? She'd changed. He didn't know that he liked it.
"What happened to you?" he asked after a moment.
"Excuse me?" She stopped walking and looked at him as though he'd just slapped her in the face.
"I just mean...you're different. It's...unnerving." His explanation did nothing to placate her. He'd picked the wrong words. He knew he was in for it when she narrowed her eyes and let out a bitter laugh.
"Well I'm sorry if I'm not exactly the same person I was 10 years ago," she said, and he tried to respond, to clarify, but she wouldn't let him. "I've had a child, who, by the way, I'm now raising basically on my own. I went through a divorce and...You're a bastard for saying that."
"I didn't mean..."
"I know exactly what you meant, Lucas," she insisted. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder a little higher and started walking away from him. She turned when he started to call her name. "Don't bother. This is...I was crazy to think...Just...Goodbye."
He smiled to himself as he watched her walk, her hips swinging and her ponytail swaying. Her feet shuffled on the concrete, and he was absolutely taken with her again.
Because that, that glimpse of anger and tenacity, was the woman he remembered.
----
She lasted all of a week. And 'lasted' would be misleading. She'd been thinking about him so much that everything that wasn't Eli took a back seat to thoughts of Lucas. She was reliving their conversation from days earlier. And she was reminiscing about their relationship, though that was really nothing new. She was also wondering what a new relationship might be like. One where there was nothing standing in their way. Despite how she'd left things - or rather, left him on the sidewalk - she wanted to see him again. A lot. And more of him. Literally. She wanted to see if his body was as nice as she was imagining it.
So one day when Eli was at school, she found herself asking 411 for his number. She got his voicemail, and she seriously thought of hanging up, but she just couldn't let herself.
"Hey. Lucas. It's Peyton. I just...thought I might apologize," she said before taking a breath. "I may have overreacted, and you probably didn't mean what you said the way I heard it. Anyway, if you want to call me back, I'm in the book. If not...It was really good to see you, Luke."
He listened to that message, smiling to himself the whole time, and he called her back the next day. He gave himself enough time to think of what he was going to say. He decided he'd ask her if she wanted to meet for coffee. She told him she was booked solid until the weekend, and even then she only had an hour on Saturday afternoon.
He'd take it. He'd take whatever he could. It had always been that way, and he honestly didn't expect it to change.
----
She walked into the coffee shop wearing the black dress she'd worn to the meeting she'd had that morning, and her hair was pulled up in an amazing messy style. He felt under dressed in his jeans and tee shirt. But it reminded him of being 23 and having her walk through his bedroom door after a day at work, all put together and looking amazing, and he'd be in just his jeans, or just his sweats.
It was so damn easy to remember all that when she honestly hadn't changed at all.
He knew she thought she had. She probably thought she looked old (she didn't) or heavier (absolutely not) or not as pretty (she was insane if she thought so). He stood when she approached, because he felt like he should, and as silly as it was, he wanted to just stand in front of her, to be close to her and be reminded of how good it felt to be in her proximity. Not that he really needed reminding.
"Hi," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You look great."
"Still lying," she muttered. He laughed and she had to smile. "But thanks."
He noticed that she didn't take compliments anymore. He wondered when that had happened. She used to blush and roll her eyes, but she'd say thank you and mean it. Now it was like she didn't believe what he was saying, like she didn't have a clue how gorgeous she was. He'd seen her twice in 10 years, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to spend all the time he could trying to make her see herself the way he still saw her.
The waiter came by and Peyton ordered a coffee and deliberated over a piece of pie before Lucas told the waiter to just bring it. She looked apologetic, and he just smiled and shook his head.
"What?" Peyton asked.
"Nothing. I'm just...this is a little weird, right?" he noted. "I mean, it's been...how long? And now..."
"I'm calling you, leaving rambling messages, and showing up 10 minutes late to meet you?"
"I was going to say, I'm sitting across from you, and you look incredible, and I feel like I'm a kid again," he corrected her.
"Oh," she whispered. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and he nestled his foot up against hers beneath the table. He smiled when she didn't move it. "So, how are you?"
He grinned again. She was trying to cut the tension and also take the focus off herself. He didn't want to let her. "I'm good. I don't want to talk about me."
She didn't know where to start. She really wasn't used to talking about herself anymore, and the way he was looking at her let her know that maybe he knew that. So she started with the obvious. How she'd bought her own gallery a couple years earlier and her business was flourishing. She told him about Brooke and Julian and her dad. She steered clear of the divorce, kind of glossed over it and told him it had been a year since the separation and a few months since the divorce was made final. Then she started talking about Eli, and it was like she was a different person. She smiled more in her conversation, and Lucas noticed it right away. She filled him in on the big events in Eli's life, and he listened intently, like he'd been waiting forever to hear her tell him stories again.
"What about...Brad?" he asked. He was a little surprised that he still had difficulty saying the name.
"He's...around," she said, smiling at the waiter when he refilled her coffee cup.
"Around?" he said incredulously. He leaned forward a little bit, sensing there was a lot more to the story than she was letting on. Judging by the look on her face, it had to do with Elliot. "Peyton, if anyone knows about daddy issues, it's me."
She was put at ease immediately. Of course he understood. She didn't know why she'd doubted it.
"He's got this new girlfriend, and...well, she's not really new," she said, and Lucas furrowed his brow. "The woman he left me for."
Lucas closed his eyes and let out a breath. "Peyton..."
"Karma, right?" she said softly.
Lucas shook his head and locked eyes with her. "Wrong."
She didn't necessarily know what he meant by that, but she adored him for saying it. "So they're living together, and lately it's been like Eli...I mean, his dad is his hero, you know?" she said, looking into her cup. "And...Brad just..."
"He takes it for granted," Lucas supplied delicately. He wanted to punch this asshole. Sure, Lucas had his own issues with his own father, which probably contributed to the anger he had for Brad. But he couldn't help himself from thinking Peyton - and her son - didn't deserve it.
Well, that, and the fact that Brad was the father to Peyton's child and Lucas wasn't.
"Sometimes," she admitted. He nodded like he knew all along that Brad would be that way - he couldn't have, so that was all in her head - and she caught sight of his watch on his wrist. She grabbed his hand roughly and pulled it towards her so she could read the time. He actually smiled. He still loved the way her hands felt on his skin. "Oh my God. I'm...Dammit. I'm 20 minutes late."
"For what?" he asked as she gathered her things.
"Eli was with his grandparents for the day, and they're...They start in on the vodka gimlets right about now," she explained, making him laugh. She gave him a deadly serious expression to let him know she wasn't joking. "But this was...Nice."
"It was."
"I...talked about myself the whole time," she realized. Her eyes flew up to meet his and he was smirking. "I'm so sorry."
"I don't mind," he insisted. He rest his hand over hers and she bit her bottom lip. "Maybe we could do this again."
"Maybe next time I'll let you get a word in," she said, and the look she gave him reminded him of how she used to be. A little bit bold and definitely flirtatious.
"So that's a yes, then?"
"I'm...really busy, Luke," she reminded him. "I want to see you again, but..."
"I'm used to this part, remember?" he said, and she rolled her eyes like she used to. "You just call me when you have free time, and we'll work something out."
She didn't want to make him feel like they were in the same situation they'd been in before, but she just couldn't commit time to him right away. For starters, she didn't have her calendar in front of her to see when she was free, but she also needed to sleep on it, to think if she wanted to get into something with him again.
Well, she didn't need to sleep on it. She knew she wanted to. The rational part of her wanted to at least be able to say she'd thought about it.
"Monday," she said as she stood. "Eli's spending the night with his dad."
"Okay." Lucas smiled and stood, having every intention of walking her to her car.
"I could...if you want, I could come to Tree Hill." She shrugged her shoulder like it was no big deal, but she wasn't looking at him and her voice was soft, like it usually was when she was nervous or uncertain.
"Peyton," he said quietly, cupping her elbow as they stepped onto the sidewalk. "It's just me, okay? Just...relax."
She let out a sigh, both unnerved and thankful that he could still read her so well. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's...I haven't...since the divorce, there hasn't been anyone, and..." She stopped talking when she realized he was holding her wrist in his hand, and she closed her eyes before saying her next words. "I have thought about you so much Lucas. Over the years, I've been...I just always wondered, you know?"
"I know," he whispered. He grinned at her and she turned her arm so that she was holding his hand in hers.
"This is hard for me," she admitted. "Because I'm not...I just...I feel different. That's why I freaked out the other day. You said exactly how I've been feeling, and no one else has even noticed, really, and it scared me. It does scare me."
"I'm not trying to scare you, Peyton," he said with a smirk. "I'm just trying to make you dinner."
She smiled at him and let go of his hand to reach for her keys. "Monday night?"
"I'll see you then."
As he watched her drive away, he thought that it was a familiar thing, watching her go. But this time, there wasn't all the uncertainty around it. They'd made a date. They'd never honestly done that.
----
When Nathan walked into Lucas' place on Monday evening, he stopped in his tracks when he saw what was going on. Lucas was cooking, which wasn't too out of the ordinary. What was strange was the bottle of wine chilling, the two places set at the table, the dim lighting and the candles, and the fact that his brother was wearing decent clothing instead of sweats or just jeans and a tee shirt.
"What's this?" Nathan asked casually, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge. He knew he was going to be asked to leave. He wanted details first. And also, what kind of brother would he be if he didn't bust Lucas' chops a little bit?
"I know I got the brains in the family..."
"And I got the talent, looks and charm," Nathan interrupted, making Lucas roll his eyes.
"I'm making dinner," Lucas said.
"For who?" Nathan asked knowingly, smirking at Lucas, just daring him to lie.
"A woman."
"Who?"
"Someone I used to know," Lucas answered cryptically.
"Has the game changed that much? You've gotta cook for booty calls these days?" Nathan asked.
"It's not a booty call," Lucas insisted. He realized he sounded a little too harsh. Defensive, even. "We used to...date. I ran into her and we caught up."
"And now you're dating her again?" Nathan asked doubtfully, as though it were an insane notion.
"We're...No. I'm making her dinner. It's...complicated."
He wasn't lying. It was complicated. He didn't know what she wanted, though he thought it safe to assume she wanted something. He didn't know what he should, or could, expect of her, and he didn't know what she expected of him. He kind of didn't care. He just wanted to be around her a little more.
"Well, whatever," Nathan said, heading towards the door again. "Seeya later, man. I'll tell Haley to keep a wide berth of this place tomorrow morning."
"You're an ass, you know that, right?" Lucas said, shaking his head. Nathan just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.
Lucas had no idea what time Peyton would be showing up, but he was more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. This night felt big. Huge. Too big to go into without having had something to calm his nerves. He opened the bottle of wine, though he knew it was probably against etiquette to do so, and poured himself a glass. And judging from the way Peyton had been when he'd seen her, he assumed she'd need one as soon as she arrived, too.
----
"Why are you wearing that?" Eli asked as he ran into Peyton's bedroom and threw himself on the bed.
She was wearing a simple black dress with short sleeves and a full back. It fell to the knee and she had her hair down and curled a little bit. She was wearing a simply gold necklace and she was just stepping into her black heels when Eli entered the room.
"I'm having dinner with a friend," she explained. She'd been dreading telling Eli she was dating, then she realized that she wasn't dating. Maybe. If she was, she'd wait until there was more to tell before she said anything to Eli about it.
"Who? Brooke?"
"No, sweetie. A...someone I used to know," she said.
"How come you're dressy though?" he asked. She sighed and turned to him with an incredulous look on her face, as if to ask why he was playing 20 questions.
"Because it's nice sometimes to dress up," she answered. "Are you ready to go to your dad's? You have all your school books for tomorrow?"
"Yup." He watched as she toyed with her hair, trying to get it all in place, and she watched him in the mirror. "I think you look pretty, mom," he said, and he smiled when she shook her head at him.
"Thank you, Eli." She hoped he never lost that sweet nature about him.
She dropped him off at his father's place, and Brad had gotten her favourite chocolate covered macadamia nuts from a specialty chocolatier in Molokai, and she thanked him, because that was actually kind of sweet of him to remember. She knew he was trying to make up to her for their argument, and while chocolate wouldn't work to erase their problems and her anger, it certainly couldn't hurt.
She ate five of those chocolates on the way to Lucas' place.
She listened to the radio really loudly, and she sang along because it was cathartic, and she checked her hair a hundred times. She tried to repeat to herself what he'd said. It's just Lucas, she thought. Lucas, who had seen her at (almost) her worst. Who she didn't need to be nervous about.
That didn't work.
Her hands were trembling when she knocked on the front door of his house. She was overcome with a rush of nostalgia. She could tell he still sat on his front porch to read when the weather was nice. She could tell he still tended to his mother's old rose bushes because Karen had always loved them and wanted them to stay beautiful. She felt younger and more free and a little more beautiful, and she wondered if she'd always feel that way around Lucas.
He pulled the door open and his eyes raked over her quickly, like he just couldn't help himself. He let out a soft laugh and smiled as he shook his head.
"Gorgeous," he said softly.
That was a greeting she couldn't complain about.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He noticed she didn't make a joke that time. She coyly tucked her hair behind her ear and fiddled with the strap of the little bag she was carrying.
"Come in," he insisted, stepping aside. He watched her as she looked around, taking in how different or similar the space was. She was no doubt thinking of the last time she stood in his living room, and the way she was nibbling her lip a little bit confirmed it. "It's different, I know."
"I like it," she said quickly, turning to him. "It's nice." He'd gotten new furniture, and he'd changed the way the room was laid out, and the walls were a different colour. It was more mature, somehow. Classier. She loved it. "What are you making? It smells...amazing in here."
"Seared salmon on a bed of baby spinach," he said proudly. "With a white wine glaze."
She laughed. "Okay, who are you right now?" He shook his head and she followed him into the kitchen. "You're like...a man now."
"Well...thank you," he said with a laugh. "It only took me 33 years."
"No. I didn't mean..."
"Joking, Peyton," he insisted as he poured her a glass of wine. "Do me a favour and breathe, alright?"
"I'm breathing," she said. She smiled when he kinked his brow. He handed her the full glass of wine, and she clinked hers against his.
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to the table. "Get comfortable. This'll be ready soon."
She watched as he tended to the food on the stove, tossing in salt and whatever else. She wasn't watching the ingredients, she was watching him. The way his shirt clung to his shoulders, and the way his forearms looked with his sleeves rolled up. He had a towel draped over his shoulder, and he'd wipe his hands on it. He took a sip of his wine and noticed she was staring.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I know I keep saying it, but you really have grown up."
"It happens," he joked. She stood up and walked across the room so she was leaning against the counter by the sink. She couldn't stop thinking about how they used to be, and how much had (and seemingly hadn't) changed in 10 years.
"I can't believe you were 23," she said, shaking her head. "Don't you think that makes you sound like a child?" He smiled in amusement at her words and she let out a short breath. "I don't mean...I mean...God, 23 sounds so young."
"I was young," he admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "So were you, though."
"I'm old now?" she teased.
"No. You know what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes.
She watched as he moved around his kitchen preparing their meal, and all she could think was that she could get used to this. His house, his cooking (whatever he was making smelled absolutely delicious), him refilling her wine glass before she was even done. She liked his house. She always had. The most important reason being that it felt like him. It wasn't cold or modern like her and Brad's place had been before Elliot came along. It wasn't drab at all. It had artwork and books and it smelled like Lucas and really good vanilla candles and the food he was preparing.
She could get used to it. She could get used to him. She wanted to.
"I don't regret anything," she said abruptly, making him turn around and look at her from where he stood 10 feet away. "I don't regret any of it."
Their eyes locked, and she was sure he was going to say something. He didn't. He walked across the kitchen and swept her into his arms, kissing her as she smiled, because this was what she'd missed most of all. The feeling of being wrapped so tightly in his arms that she felt like she was breathless. The way his lips tasted (now a little bit like wine, too). The way he'd splay his hand at the small of her back to hold her closer. No one held her like Lucas did. No one kissed her like that. No one in the world made her feel so safe and so secure and so absolutely terrified all at the same time. It was scary that she felt so much. Still felt so much.
Not for the first time, as he brushed his lips against hers with a kind of gentle urgency, she realized that she should have stayed with him all those years ago. Like he'd asked her to.
But then she wouldn't have Elliot, and that wasn't a trade she was willing to make. It was a strange inner battle she was having, so she cut it short in favour of living in the moment.
They parted for air and they both laughed softly as he rest his forehead against hers. He hadn't expected to kiss her. He really hadn't expected anything. When he saw the glimmer of a tear in her eye, he looked at her with concern and rest his hand on her cheek.
"I missed you," she whispered. "So, so much."
"I missed you too." He kissed her again, just softly, just because he was right there and he could. "Food."
"Right," she said quietly. He winked at her as he released her, and she reached for both their glasses to take them to the table.
She thought she'd died when she took her first bite of her dinner, it was so good. It was all just perfect, and though Lucas had always been a great cook, he'd definitely improved over the years. She couldn't stop telling him how good everything tasted, and he just shook his head at her like it was no big deal. They both knew it had been a long time since she'd been pampered. He wanted to be the one to treat her the way she deserved to be treated. She thought he was the only one who could do it.
They moved to the living room after their meal, and she asked if she could read his book, or if he'd at least tell her what the title was or what his pen name was. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want her to read it yet. She told him he was being stubborn and she pouted, and he rest his hand on her knee and squeezed it gently, and that was all it took for her to 'forgive' him.
He figured that he didn't want to tell her about the book right away, but he wanted her to know that he'd never forgotten her. Maybe he'd let her read it eventually, but for right now, he just wanted her to know that she was always important to him.
"The other day. You said you thought about me a lot," he said, and she nodded her head as she took a breath. "I thought about you every day, Peyton."
"Lucas," she said, like she didn't believe him.
"You made my heart race every single time," he admitted quietly. She smiled and closed her eyes, and he kissed her cheek gently, just because it was so close and looked so smooth and she was blushing.
"You're...I don't understand how you're so...You're kind of perfect, you know that?" she said. She turned to him and noticed that he was looking at her lips, so she kissed him quickly.
"I'm not," he insisted. "But it's nice that you think so."
He really couldn't believe his luck. They were both single at the same time, and they were both obviously still interested in one another - always had been - and she was sitting next to him on his sofa and blushing at the things he said and generally looking beautiful. He wanted to ask how it was all possible, but he thought better than to bring it up. It was happening, and that was all he really cared about.
They were in the middle of a conversation about his store - which he'd expanded a few years earlier - when her cell rang. She got up to answer it, and her heart fell when she saw Brad's house number displayed on the screen.
"Hello?...Slow down, honey. What do you mean you want to come home?" she asked worriedly. Lucas looked at her with concern on his face, and she adored him for it. "Oh, sweetie. I don't think you mean that." She closed her eyes like she was trying not to cry, and Lucas rest his hand on the small of her back. "Okay...No, no. I'll come get you if you want me to...Alright. Put your dad on. I'll see you in a little bit." She mouthed an apology to Lucas, and he shook his head like she was crazy for doing it. "Hi Brad. What's going on?...Well, of course he's upset," she said. "This is the first he's seen you in two weeks and this is the first thing you do?...No, it's not. I wouldn't do that...Well - no, you know what? I'm not doing this. This has nothing to do with me," she insisted. "You know better than to think that, too. You're just mad...Don't take it out on Elliot. He's just...Alright. I'll be there in a half hour."
She sighed and closed her eyes as she hung up the phone, and when she looked back at Lucas, he simply smiled at her.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I have to go."
"Everything okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Not really. Eli's decided he hates it at Brad's place," she explained. "Brad and Sonya are making him move into one of the other rooms, and he doesn't want to, and...he's nine, and that's a big deal to him."
"I understand." He nodded his head, and she smiled at him. There was something about the look on his face and the way he said the words that had her heart racing. He wasn't upset that she had to go, and he wasn't acting like her putting her son first was irritating him. It wasn't. It really wasn't, and she thought he was the sweetest man in the world for that.
"You really do, don't you?" she asked seriously, like it surprised her.
"I do." He kissed her forehead and rubbed her back. "He going to be alright?"
"Yeah. I'll make sure."
"You're a great mom," he said, and she shook her head. "You are. I can tell. He's lucky to have you."
"Maybe," she said quietly.
"Peyton." He stood in front of her, tipped up her chin and forced her to look at him. "I'm kind of familiar with the single mom thing. You're amazing. I'm sure you don't get told that enough." She bit her lip and smiled, and he thought she looked like she used to when he'd make compliments she wasn't used to hearing. "And Brad is a fucking idiot," he said seriously, locking eyes with her. "Just...thought you should know."
"Trust me," she laughed, "I already do." She rest her hand on the back of his neck and kissed him. "Tonight was...I had a great time."
"I'm glad."
"Walk me to my car?" she requested, and he looked at her like she was crazy for thinking that he wouldn't have even if she hadn't asked.
They walked outside with her toying with her keys, and he opened her car door for her, and she stood there, not knowing what to say, but wanting to say something. "Thank you," was the best she could come up with.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.
She smiled back at him. "Call me tomorrow?" she said, like if he answered yes, she would too.
He nodded and kissed her forehead, and he smiled as she got into her car and he closed the door for her. She turned the key and backed out of the driveway, and all he could think to himself was that it was amazing to have her back.
Because even if she wasn't admitting to it yet, he definitely had her back.
----
to be continued...