"Reba," Brock said, entering the house of his first wife without knocking, "I need to talk to you."
"Please, Brock," Reba began, a false smile plastered to her face, "come on in! Make yourself at home. My plans for the day? Oh, nothing special. Oh, I'd love for you to hand around all day without notice, thanks so much for offering to!"
Brock scowled, "I'm serious, Reba. It's very important." He sat down on the couch and waited for her to sit.
Reba sighed and sat down beside him, "What's wrong?"
Brock paused for a moment, contemplating exactly how he should word his statement "Do you think that love ever dies?" he asked slowly, eying her carefully.
"Does love ever die?" Reba repeated, not entirely sure why this was supposed to be an important conversation. "No. No, I suppose not. Why? Is this about Barbara Jean?"
"No, Reba," Brock stated, shaking his head, hoping she would follow.
Reba stared back, afraid that she knew where he was going.
"Reba…" Brock continued when she didn't react, "It's about you."
Reba's eyes widened in shock as she stood up, distancing herself from him. "Brock," she warned.
Was Brock really asking her back? That would be wonderful and terrible at the same time. So much of her longed for her old life back so badly. She wished for the happy marriage and security that had been stolen from her six years ago; the husband, the love of her life, that had left her and the happy home. But so much of her loved her life now. She was happy. More importantly, she didn't want or need Brock's love anymore and she wasn't sure she wanted to go back to that place where she had. She wasn't sure she could put herself in a position to go through that pain again if he got bored.
Brock stood as well and stepped closer, "Reba, you said so yourself; you don't think love can really die."
Reba backed away from him, shaking her head. She forced a laugh, "But I didn't finish! I- uh- also think that it can change!" Brock continued to advance on her, a flirtatious smile on his face. "It can change! Romance can wither into platonic love! And friendships can grow," Reba stammered, backing herself against a wall. Craaap.
Part of her longed to snatch her ex-husband close to her, so sorely missing what was stolen from her so many years before.
But another part was more than pleased with the way her life was.
Brock knew her better than anyone else ever could, though. He could read her so well. He could see in her eyes the passion that burned there, that wanted him, and it was just the motivation, the permission, he needed.
With Reba cornered, he leaned in slightly and pressed a kiss to her lips as she continued her stammering, effectively silencing her.
Reba started to push him away, but Brock deepened the kiss and Reba found herself pulling him closer. She ran her delicate fingers through his sandy brown tresses as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Reba couldn't decide if she wanted to pull him closer still or push him away. She was torn between longing and anger.
"Reba," Brock whispered as began kissing her lightly on the neck and unbuttoning the first few buttons of her blouse, "I have missed you so much."
Reba moaned softly and tilted her head back to give him the access he needed. She closed her eyes and though of the first time they had done this. He had been her first. "Brock-"
Brock trailed kisses down her neck as he finished unbuttoning her blouse. "Now- just- tell- me- you want me- as- much- as- I want you," he told her between kisses. He reached under her bra to massage her breast.
"Brock," the redhead moaned softly again, "Oh, God, Brock!" She wrapped one leg around his waist to pull him closer, unconsciously unbuttoning his pants.
Brock kissed her full on the mouth again and reached with his free hand to unzip her pants.
Reba's eyes snapped open as he did so and she instantly pulled away, instantly beginning to button her blouse as she did so.
"Oh, Lord. What did we almost do?" she asked, raising a hand to her head in disbelief. How had she let herself get so carried away?
"It doesn't have to be almost," Brock said, half-suggestively, half-irritated.
"No, it does. We can't do this, Brock!"
"Reba, BJ and I have been separated for over a year and divorced for over six months! Why can't we do this?"
"Did you ever think maybe I'm seeing someone, you mo-ron? Brock, I am saying no."
"You are not, Reba, I would know. The kids would have said something. Reba, why can't we make us work?" Brock asked, pained.
"There shouldn't even be an us! You and I divorced. This, us, is over. And, I am not the woman you left all those years ago, Brock Hart," the redhead informed him.
"And I'm not the man that left you!" Brock said, placing his hands on her upper arms.
"No," Reba began, "I'm really not that woman anymore. You don't even know the half of it. I shouldn't have even let it get that far."
She tried to pull away but Brock tightened his grip, determined to make her listen. "Reba," Brock said as Reba struggled to pull away, "I still love you. Always have. Always will. Can you really tell me you don't feel the same way?"
"Of course not, Brock. We have three beautiful children together and we shared twenty years. You'll always have a place in my heart. I love you, but I'm not in love with you. So, Brock, let go."
"Not until you admit your true feelings. I know that you're still in love with me."
"Brock!"
"No, Reba. I know you haven't truly moved on. I haven't either."
"Brock, please! You're hurting me!"
Brock ignored her pleas, knowing full well that she would stop him if she meant it. She'd always been stronger, both emotionally and physically. He leaned into her and kissed her again, pinning her body to the wall with his own much larger body as he began unbuttoning her top again, picking up where he had left off.
The front door swung open with a crash and the pair heard a loud gasp.
"What is going on here?" a voice demanded.
Brock spun away and stared at the door, moth agape. "Oh, BJ, you scare me!" Brock laughed. "I thought one of the kids had walked in on us! That would certianly be a lot to explain! Their divorced parents having sex- or about to- in the living room? That would be... Awkward. What is it?"
Barbara Jean looked from the guilty-looking Brock, who was smiling sheepishly, to the tear-stricken Reba, who was leaning heavily against the wall, bruises already forming on her arm where Brock had roughly held her in place, her hair tousled, and her only half-buttoned blouse.
A fire appeared in Barbara Jean's eyes. Seething, she quickly crossed the distance between herself and the pair and grabbed Brock. She pulled him away from Reba and to the door. "Don't you ever touch her again!" she screeched, pushing him outside.
"BJ, honey, you and me are over. You can't get jealous just because you see me with another woman," Brock said, misunderstanding Barbara Jean's anger as he turned around to walk back inside. "Don't you think you're just overreacting a little?"
Barbara Jean pushed him back outside with one hand and leaned close. "If you so much as think about laying a finger on her, I will, personally, make it so that the vasectomy you had is pointless," she whispered menacingly. "Now, out!"
"You don't even live here! That's Reba's call!" Brock argued.
"Get out, Brock," Reba croaked. She had slid to a sitting position on the floor and had buried her face in her hands.
"You heard her," Barbara Jean said angrily before slamming the front door closed on him.
Hearing the door slam shut, Reba allowed herself to cry.
"Oh, my goodness! Are you okay, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, concerned, as she rushed to Reba's side. "My poor baby! Are you alright?" she hugged the redhead tightly, wanting to protect her. "Tell Barbara Jean what happened."
Reba confessed the whole sordid story to Barbara Jean, from being caught between desire and repulsion, to pulling Brock closer but rethinking due to the repercussions sleeping with her ex could have.
"You poor thing! It'll be okay," Barbara Jean promised, she stood and assisted Reba in doing the same, but the shorter woman was so defeated and overcome with guilt that she just sank back to the floor. Barbara Jean looked at Reba, pain etched in her face as she watched the smaller woman cry. She knelt beside Reba and easily lifted her and carried her up the stairs to her bed where the redhead cried herself to sleep, exhausted.
Hours later, she awoke to a loud banging noise. Confused, she pulled herself out of bed to investigate. Halfway through the living room, she heard the banging cease and speaking commence. Walking into the kitchen, she saw Barbara Jean. With her stuffed animals.
"Well," Barbara Jean was saying as she held a cream colored beanie-baby dog, "I think I'll just stop in to see Reba, the love of my life. What's this? Reba and our ex-husband Brock kissing? But, Reba doesn't seem to be kissing back! You-dirty-rotten-scoundrel! How-dare-you-touch-her-with-your-unfit-hands?" Barbara Jean began beating a honey colored beanie bear with Reba's skillet on each word. Then Barbara Jean picked up the cream colored dog again and had it hug an orange tabby beanie cat. "I'll save you, Reba! I'll protect you-" She then picked up the skillet and began beating the bear again, "-from that dirty-sex-crazed-scoundrel!"
Reba couldn't suppress a smile, "Barbara Jean?"
The blonde screamed, turning around and throwing the skillet in the air behind her in order to hide what she had been doing. It clattered to the ground in front of the back door.
"Are you beating your beanie babies with my skillet?" Reba asked, trying to keep a straight face.
"… No!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, making a face that suggested that the notion was entirely ridiculous. Barbara Jean pushed the bear to the floor and slid the hugging cat and dog behind her.
"Barbara Jean?"
"Okay," she sighed, "I was. But, Reba you don't understand how upset I was this afternoon! I was so scared that you wanted him back, and then I was scared that he had hurt you. And I was so angry that I hadn't showed up earlier, but I had just had to buy that darn beanie baby!"
"BJ, it's okay. I'm really glad you got there when you did, before it went any further," Reba told the taller woman as she hugged her.
"It's not fair, Reba! He was touching you and kissing your neck and a part of you wanted him to do it!" the blonde began, disgust and sadness dripping in her voice.
"We got carried away. But I thought of you, and I tried to stop it. I don't want that, him, anymore, Barbara Jean," Reba told her.
"But that didn't stop him!" Barbara Jean cried. "If I hadn't shown up, he very likely would have forced himself on you. And what if you had liked it? What if you chose him?"
"He got carried away. We both did. And, yes, at first, I… Was enjoying it. But, Barbara Jean, you need to be able to trust that I wouldn't choose him over you. Besides, he didn't force himself on me, because you did show up. You saved me."
"If he would have hurt you… If he does hurt you…" Barbara Jean trailed off, anger evident in her voice.
"Despite what we both know he's capable of and the pain he could inflict- emotional or physical-, I don't think he would do that. I think that, had he looked up and seen my face, he would have stopped. I have to believe that. So do you. We both have to believe that he's not a monster," Reba said seriously, almost excusing what Brock had done to her that afternoon. The women lapsed into silence.
"Hey, I was thinking'," Reba said, breaking the silence.
"What?" the blonde asked.
"Well, wouldn't it be easier for you to 'protect me' if you live here?" Reba asked, reaching behind Barbara Jean to pick up the hugging animals. Then she darted into the living room, waving them in front of her, teasing her blonde pursuer.
Barbara Jean scowled as she chased the other woman before snatching her stuffed animals.
"Wait.." the larger woman began, the reality of what Reba has said hitting her. "Are you asking me to move in?"
Reba laughed and pulled the blonde woman onto the couch beside her before kissing her lovingly. "Yes, Barbara Jean. Yes I am."
"But, I thought you didn't want your kids to know about us."
"Well, I've thought about it and decided that a relationship that means so much to me shouldn't be hidden from the other people that I love," Reba said, smiling.
"Do you really mean it, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, almost afraid that Reba would say that she wasn't really ready yet.
Reba nodded, "But-" Barbara Jean's face fell. "- You'll have to bring your old skillet. I do believe you've dented mine!"
Barbara Jean's smile returned. "Deal!" Barbara Jean exclaimed, squeezing Reba tight in a protective hug.
The pair stayed in each other's embrace for the rest of the evening, both finding the safety, security, and contentment they longed in the other's arms.