Ok, so this is the sequel to Dusk and Summer … I guess you don't have to read that first, but it would probably help. I'm taking all of the episode titles from Season 3, which works with my timeline, but probably almost none of the actual plotlines. Please excuse anything that doesn't really fit in with the show's storyline, I stopped watching it a long, long time ago. And as always, please review! Enjoy!

Like You, Like an Arsonist

Summer was over.

Technically, there were still a few weeks of the sun-soaked season left. The weather was still warm, the sky still blue long past dinner time. School wasn't in session yet and tourists continued to explore the small-town charm of Tree Hill.

Despite all that, Brooke knew that summer was ending. And with it, her relationship with Nathan.

Not that it could really even be called a relationship, she told herself. Could getting drunk and sleeping together really lay a strong foundation for something more? Did fighting and making up again and again actually constitute a meaningful bond?

If you were sleeping with a married man, could you actually fall in love with him?

The answer to that one, if her broken heart was any indication, was 'yes' with a capital Y. But she didn't want to think about that right now. Instead, she shifted under the sheets, leaning on her elbow to take one last look at what she was leaving behind.

Nathan sleeping could be her favorite thing, she mused. He looked like such a little boy, with his brown hair all mussed and his expression one of utter tranquility. He sprawled out like a child too, laying claim to the entire mattress, forcing her to snuggle up under one arm or sleep on the floor. She chose the former every time.

She really had to get out of there.

Brooke held her breath as she inched and squirmed her way out of the bed. She was grateful they'd chosen to spend their last night together at his place – it may have been his home with another woman, but it made her escape all the more simple. Just find her shoes and slip out the door. By the time he opened his eyes, she'd be far away.

She paused again with one hand on the doorknob. She could look back, couldn't she? She deserved that, at least. Nathan had already readjusted in his sleep, stretching his limbs over the empty space she'd left. If only it were as easy as he made it seem.

"Bye, Nate," she whispered, telling herself it was stupid, that if she woke him it'd be even harder. A tiny part of her wanted him to jump out of bed, call her name, beg her not to go. How did you think I wouldn't notice? he'd say. I feel it when you're gone.

How romantic, the more rational side of her brain mocked. And the he'd call Haley and divorce her over the phone, right? And the two of you would live happily ever after.

No. Happily ever after with Nathan wasn't in the cards for Brooke. When she'd given herself one more night, she'd done it with the clear intention that she would walk away without looking back. And here she was, twenty seconds into it and already second-guessing.

Without giving herself another moment to hesitate, Brooke walked out of Nathan's house and out of his life.

XXX

She made it all the way back to Karen's before the tears overcame her. Although it was early, the sun just beginning to peek out of the horizon, Karen was already in the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer. A griddle on the stove sizzled as pancake batter spread into circles and Brookes, sniffling, could smell bacon.

"Brooke." Karen looked surprised – to see her so early, or to see her coming from the front door instead of her bedroom, Brooke didn't know. "What are you … oh, honey. What's the matter?"

"It's … it's over." She hoped she didn't look as miserable as she felt, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was worse. "I ended it. With Nathan."

"Oh, Brooke." To Karen's credit, the first words out of her mouth weren't "I told you so". She wrapped her arms around the younger girl's shoulders and led her to a chair. "Here, sit down, let me get you some breakfast. How'd he take it?"

A new wave of misery swept over her. "He doesn't know yet."

Karen arched her eyebrows. "Honey, it can't be over if he doesn't even know."

"I told him last night that it was the end." She accepted the plate Karen slid in front of her, but made no move to pick up her fork. "I gave him – I gave myself – one last night and then I left."

"I see." Even though, obviously, she didn't. Maybe it was just her age showing, but in her experience, a girl couldn't break up with a boy without him even knowing about it. "So, what now? Nathan's going to wake up, see that you're not there, and just … take the hint? Because I seem to recall him being quite persistent when it comes to talking to you."

Brooke was quiet. It was a comforting thought, that Nathan would be unable to take no for an answer, that he would pursue her relentlessly. But no. Hadn't he told her, just last night, that he wouldn't always be there waiting when she turned around? Hadn't she told herself, a million times, that it was for the best that way?

"I think he'll understand," she finally replied. "He knows … he knows where I stand. And I know he still has feelings for Haley. He'll know it's for the best."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Karen said, as gently as possible.

As a female, Karen knew that she was saying all the right things. As a woman, she understood that there was something real between Brooke and Nathan, something that deserved to be explored. But as a mother, she was failing her son terribly. What kind of person encouraged their son's ex-girlfriend to date his brother?

She just hated to see Brooke so desperately unhappy. Brooke, who was always smiling, winking, giggling. Brooke, who could laugh off her parents' utter abandonment of her and crack jokes about their bankruptcy.

She was the only girl who had ever made Lucas smile so that his eyes shined, too.

Knowing that, Karen hastened to continue before Brooke could respond. "I'm not saying I think you and Nathan should be together. I think you made a very mature decision. But I just hope your heart is listening to your head because if those two don't agree … well, it can get messy."

Brooke nodded slowly, absorbing the advice. "I know. And they do. Agree, I mean. My heart hates it, of course, but … I know. It has to be this way."

Of course, she thought to herself as Karen nodded and went about fixing her own meal, that didn't mean she had to like it.

XXX

Lucas was exhausted.

Physically, well, it was understandable. His entire summer had been one long, draining blur of morning drills and afternoon practice, early evening runs and late night workout sessions. Half the time, he'd been afraid his heart would stop; the other half, he'd almost wanted it to just so he could score a five minute break.

It had all been worth it, though. He felt like he was finally at the top of his game. Not to mention the fact that his coach had volunteered to write college recommendations for whoever survived the program. His time at High Flyers may actually have been the "key to his future", just as their brochure had promised.

And mentally, well, that was another story altogether. Throughout the long weeks of training, the day-in, day-out tedium of sheer exhaustion, his mind had been racing as well. He kept going over and over the good-byes he'd shared with Brooke and Peyton.

He hadn't meant to tell Brooke how he felt. Sure, he'd thought about it a hundred times since she'd moved in with him, but he hadn't actually wanted to say it out loud. Brooke, he knew, scared easily. But looking at her, seeing how freaked out she was by all the Peyton stuff … he'd just had to. He wanted her to know, while he away, that he was still thinking about her, caring for her.

Her reaction, or lack thereof, had worried him, but not to the extreme. She had reason not to trust him, after all, and maybe some time away would do them both some good. It would give her time to sort through her feelings without feeling like he was pressuring her.

On his way out of town, he'd stopped – on a whim – at Peyton's. She was heading off, too, for a road trip with her dad, and he'd just wanted to wish her well. Her eyes had seemed to shine brighter that day, and she'd actually been the one to hug him, instead of vice versa.

"I'm really going to miss you, Luke," Peyton whispered, holding him tightly, as if she wanted to imprint his body on hers.

"Aw, come on," he laughed, teasing her. "Who are you kidding? You're gonna have your dad by your side, the wind in your hair … punk rock on the radio. You're not gonna miss anything."

She shook her head vehemently. "Not true. I'll … I just …"

"Hey, hey." Frowning, he bent at the knees, trying to catch her gaze. "Peyton. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her lips were pressed in a straight line, which he knew meant she was holding back tears. "I just … God, this is such bad timing. Here we are, about to say good-bye for the next three months, and I …"

"What? You what?"

"I love you." Once she'd said it, she raised her eyes to his, gauging his reaction. "I know we agreed to just be friends, and I know my timing sucks, but … a lot of people in my life have left me without a proper good-bye. So, now that I'm the one doing the leaving, I just want you to know … how much you mean to me."

"Oh, Peyton." He pulled her closer, ran a hand down her curls. "You mean a lot to me, too. I care about you so much."

She pulled back. "But you don't love me?"

Lucas hesitated. "I … I don't know how –"

"Peyton?" Her father, calling from the driveway, where the engine was already running. "You ready to hit the road?"

"You know what?" Peyton pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything. If you don't love me, I don't really want to hear the rejection right now. And if you do … tell me in three months."

A car honked, pulling Lucas out of his musings, and he gave an apologetic wave as he registered that the light had turned green and he was free to go. Putting his foot back on the gas, he drove for another mile or so before passing the "Welcome to Tree Hill" sign.

With a smile, Lucas pressed down slightly harder on the accelerator. He was home.