Sheets rustling, skin against skin; she heard herself gasp in pleasure as his pace quickened. His lips touched hers and their tongues began to fight. Her stomach began to boil in climax, and she hurried to look into his face. The feeling of his body against her, inside her, made her feel as if she was on fire. She wanted to see his eyes as he pushed her over the edge. However, all she saw was darkness where his face should be. She couldn't tell who it was.

"Oh!" She sat up in bed, sweating from the intensity of her dream. Her blue eyes were wide, and she swallowed hard. The dreams had been happening for a couple of weeks or so, ever since Brock had stayed at her house during one of his fights with Barbara Jean. She just wasn't sure why.

She also wasn't sure who the man was in her dreams. There was no man she was interested in at the moment, so she wasn't sure what her subconscious mind was trying to tell her during her sleep. It could've been an image of Brock, but she couldn't see herself thinking in such a way. He wasn't attractive to her anymore…she didn't think.

After taking a deep breath she laid back down in her bed, sighing. It was such a juvenile thing, having sex dreams and such. But there she was, almost every night, waking with a loss of breath and covered in sweat. She tried to roll over; closing her eyes, but all she could think about was her dream. It was so intense, more so than all the others, and that scared her a bit. She hated things she couldn't control.

Minutes turned into a half hour before she decided to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Her bare feet felt a sudden chill to the floor as she stood and made her way toward the stairs. It was almost three in the morning, and she was thankful that she didn't have to get up early to work, but the idea of being up at such an unreasonable hour frustrated her.

The sound of loud breathing hit her ears as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She hurried over to the couch only to find that the breathing was coming from her ex-husband. She rolled her eyes and went to get her glass of water.

He was definitely not there when she fell asleep, and it angered her that he still sometimes used her home as if it were his own. And the kids, they loved it. She couldn't blame them for loving to have their father around, but inviting him over so often just got under her skin.

"Reba? What are you doing up?" His tired voice knocked her out of her trance as he entered the kitchen.

"The question is: What are you doing here? Don't you have your own house?" He rolled his eyes and sat at the counter on one of the tall chairs.

"One of my many fights with Barbara Jean happened earlier tonight. I don't understand how I'm always the one to get kicked out when I'm the one whose name is on the papers."

"You get kicked out because you're probably the one who causes the problems in the first place." She finished her glass of water and placed it in the sink.

"So, you don't mind if I spend the night?"

"The night's almost over. I don't really care." She walked past the counter and sighed as she made her way back to her bedroom. "Goodnight."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mom, you look terrible." Cheyenne cringed as she entered her mother's home. She and Van had moved down the street almost four months before, and she often stopped by to make sure her mother wasn't too lonely.

"I didn't sleep much last night, but it's nice to see you too." Reba faked a smile and flipped another page in her magazine she had been reading. "What brings you here?"

"Elizabeth left some of her school books in the living room, and I wanted to get them so we could do her homework this afternoon, after we go to the zoo, of course. Barbara Jean and Henry are going too. You want to go with us?" Reba laughed and shook her head.

"I'd rather not, but thanks." Cheyenne went to the living room to get the books, but returned with a strange look upon her face.

"What is Dad doing here?"

"He and Barbara Jean got into a fight, and I found him on the couch at three o'clock this morning."

"Again? That's happening a lot."

"Don't I know it? But, I'm sure it'll pass soon. It always does." Cheyenne smiled and pecked her mother's cheek before saying goodbye and leaving to take her daughter to the zoo.

Reba walked into the living room with a cup of coffee, sitting it on the table next to her as she leaned closer to Brock. She shook his shoulder, rolling her eyes when he didn't budge. That was always one difference about them: while she was a fairly light sleeper he could sleep through anything. She remembered many times when she would be the one to hear his alarm clock and have to wake him before work…back when they were married. She shook her head and patted his shoulder again.

"Brock, get up." He rolled over, and she stood over him, smacking his arm enough to jolt him into consciousness.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He quickly sat up, running a hand over his face.

"You were ignoring me, and it's almost eleven." She began to walk back to the kitchen to get a glass of water before finishing her sandwich, not noticing that he was following closely behind her.

"You didn't have to be so rude." She jumped at his words, wondering how he could follow her so quietly.

"I was rude? You basically broke into my house and spent the night on my couch while I was sleeping. That sounds a little rude to me." She filled her glass as she spoke, waiting for him to leave.

"Oh, you don't mind." He sat at the table, taking a bite of her sandwich she had on a plate.

"Okay, that is rude. I was eating that."

"Sorry, I didn't know."

"It already had a bite taken out of it." She pointed towards her sandwich, which was currently being consumed. He shrugged, and she bit her lip in frustration. "Brock, we are getting way too comfortable around each other."

"We were married…"

"Shut up." She walked over to the table and sat next to him, sighing. "What I mean is: you need to spend more time at your house than mine. I'm tired of doing your laundry and watching you eat food that I haven't finished yet. Make up to your wife and go home."

"You're right." He nodded, looking her in the eyes. "I just miss having someone to talk to about adult things. I mean, there are only so many conversations you can have about Beanie Babies."

"Brock…"

"I promise I'll stay out of your hair for a while. Sorry." She smiled, wishing he would just understand what she was saying without getting his feelings hurt. He was always so sensitive.

"You can always stay here if you need to, and I'll even be your friend, but you have to stop being so dependent on me. I've got three kids for that." He laughed, patting her hand. He stood and leaned over to give her a hug before walking out the back door, his shoes in his hand. She sighed