Author's Note: First off, I want to thank everybody that took the time to review, it means a lot to me. Personally, I think this is my favorite story out of all the ones I've written, and I love the fact that people are taking time to read it, so thank you! Second, I want to address someone's review that said I supposedly didn't "credit the plotline" && I'd like you to know that I did in my disclaimer, so please read everything I've said before you accuse me. With that said, thanks to my amazing beta, Brittany, and I'll stop blabbing since most of you probably skipped right over this.

xx

Chapter 1: Anywhere but here

"They say time heals all wounds, but in some relationships some wounds only get deeper within time." -KANK

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2 years later…

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"Lucas!" Peyton yelled to her husband, adjusting her short black dress in the elongated hallway mirror located in the foyer of their 10,000 sq. foot mansion.

Lucas groaned and turned down the volume on the TV, unenthusiastic to find out what his wife needed from him. Usually, it was something he couldn't care less about, like taking her jewelry in for cleaning or picking up clothes that were strewn throughout the house. "What is it?"

Peyton's shoulders dropped at his words, the harshness of his voice cutting through her like a knife.

He had been like this the past two years, ever since the accident. Lazy, acting like he didn't have a care in the world. And God, she would do anything to make things the way they once were, but things felt so out of reach for her. So she did the only thing she could. She dissolved herself in her work. Whenever she tried to make things better, it seemed like Lucas would just close himself off even more. It seemed that all her efforts ended in vain and there was nothing else she could do to save the one thing that meant the most to her.

"Gosh, do you have to sound so annoyed all the time?" Peyton complained as she walked into the entertainment room, which was usually occupied by Lucas at least 12 hours of the day.

Lucas just rolled his eyes, used to the constant jabbers made at him. "Just tell me what you want me to do, Peyton."

"You could at least sound a little enthusiastic about it," she criticized him again, sighing internally. "Anyways," she continued with a roll of her eyes. "Do you think you could go pick up groceries for the week? Oh, and take Jacob to his guitar lessons?" She walked over to the table in front of him, picking up empty pizza cartons and used plates as she spoke.

"Why does he take those sissy classes?" Lucas asked, rolling his eyes again. "Whatever happened to basketball? And Peyton, you don't need to clean up my messes, I can do it myself."

Peyton sighed in defeat, placing a hand on her hip, dropping the material in her hands. "He doesn't like basketball, Luke. We've been through this. You need to stop pressuring him and support him in what he does enjoy doing." She shook her head, walking over to the small dresser on the other side of the room.

"Whatever." Lucas pursed his lips, running a hand through his hair. "Where are you off to now?"

"I have to interview some new intern," Peyton informed him as she looped small diamond hoops through her ear. "Oh, and do you think you could try and have dinner ready? The maid took off for 3 days and I really don't want to eat pizza or take out again. I'll probably be home around 9."

"Of course, your highness," Lucas spoke to Peyton's back as she walked out of the room. He heard the garage open minutes later, and the sound of a car engine zooming away.

-

Day after day for the past 2 years, the routine remained the same. Peyton had become deeply immersed in working for her magazine after becoming co-editor, and barely had time for her home life. The couple barely shared more than a few words in passing, and the closeness they had once shared had almost vanished completely.

He was always stuck with doing minimal things around the house, making him feel completely inadequate as a husband. It had all started with the accident…

The headlights had come at him, knocking him unconscious before he even realized what was happening. After being unconscious for over 6 hours, he woke up in a hospital bed, unsure of the events that took place after the accident.

He groaned in pain when he tried to stretch his arms, rolling over to his side. He spotted Peyton in a plastic hospital chair, her head resting on his bed, her face expressing the extreme exhaustion she was feeling.

He stirred and tried to wake up without disrupting her, but the task proved unsuccessful as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Lucas? Are you awake?" She asked concerned, lifting her head up and rubbing her eyes.

He gave up and fell back onto the bed. "Water," he requested her in a raspy voice, his head finally hitting his pillow.

Peyton was instantly on her toes as she walked over to the water purifier. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she handed him a cup of water, which he gulped down greedily.

"Sore as hell," he answered her. "What happened?"

The confusion was apparent in his eyes as he searched her hazel orbs, trying to find an answer. "It was a hit and run, Luke. The good news is that the doctor said everything should be all right in a week or so," she told him, bringing a hand up his cheek.

Lucas nodded, sighing into her touch. "Did the scouts call?"

Peyton bit her lip. "Actually, Lucas about that-," she began in an uneasy tone, softly bringing her hand down to place it over his.

Her voice was interrupted when the doctor walked in. "I see that you're awake. How are you feeling?" he asked as he walked over to the patient, marking down something in his notebook after looking at Lucas' readings.

"Like hell," he replied, shifting a little on the bed. "I can barely feel my legs."

The doctor nodded. "That's understandable. Everything should be fine soon, but the bad news is we found a permanent sprain in your leg. It-"

"Permanent sprain?" Lucas interrupted him as he glanced questioningly at Peyton. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"A bone in your femur was damaged badly and we tried our best to fix it, but we have reasonable doubt to believe you may never be able to take place in rigorous physical activity," the doctor informed him, taking down more notes on his notepad as he released Lucas' hand from a metal brace.

Lucas eyes widened as he slowly tried to stretch his hand. "That includes basketball?"

"Especially basketball. It might cause even worse damage and at this point you should feel lucky those are the only consequences."

"Lucky?" Rage and horror, mixed with disbelief and shock began to set in. "You've got to be kidding me. I was getting ready to go pro with that win and your trying to tell me I can never play again? Lucky, my fucking ass."

The doctor bit his lip, unsure of what to say to the man, when Peyton interrupted. "We'll take care of this. Thank you for everything."

The doctor nodded. "Your welcome, miss. Your husband should be ready to check out by tomorrow afternoon and a nurse should be by soon to give you information on physical therapy." He made a few more notes as he turned around and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Lucas-," Peyton started, taking his hand in hers.

"Don't Peyton. Don't tell me it'll all be okay. I just need to be alone right now."

She slowly nodded as she released his hand. She stood up and dropped a kiss on his cheek, outlining his jaw with her finger. "I love you, Lucas." She gave him a small smile before walking out the door, leaving him to his thoughts.

Ever since that day, he hadn't been able to find a decent job that he would enjoy doing, leaving him to feel incapable and causing him to be bitter and cynical. Peyton became more successful in her career as each day passed, her art becoming a hit with many designers. Her magazine had recently become the 2nd bestseller, leaving a lot more time for work, and a lot less time for him. She was basically raising the family with her money, a fact that constantly hovered over Lucas.

The lust had left their marriage long ago, but neither did anything about it. For now, it was something safe, something stable that they had relied on most of their lives. There were occasional romantic moments, but it was barely enough to keep a marriage alive. Yet, neither of them was willing to give up on the comfort that had evolved during their life together.

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"Brooke… Brooke… BROOKE!" Nathan yelled over the vacuum cleaner, which had seemed to take a permanent residence at least 3 hours of each day.

Brooke turned off the machine, turning around to face him. "What is it?'

"You know, the house might collapse if you keep cleaning this often," he informed her as he adjusted his tie. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nathan, take off your pants."

"Take off what?"

"Your pants," Brooke repeated impatiently, hands on her hips.

"Here?" he asked confused.

"Where else?"

"But why?"

"Why? Why do you think?"

"Shit! Are you serious?" Nathan's eyes widened as he finally caught on. "I've always wanted to do it in the kitchen."

Brooke gave him a funny look as he took off his pants and handed them to her. "C'mon Nathan. Quickly, I don't have a lot of time."

"Okay, now it's your turn," Nathan smirked after he was finished.

Brooke looked at him quizzically. "Nathan, I don't need to take off anything, because my clothes don't have stains."

"Stains?"

"Yes, stains. Like these on the front of your pants." She shoved the material in front of his face. "And you were all ready to go to your meeting with these on."

Nathan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Brooke…when will you stop being my mother and start being my wife?"

"When you stop being my child and become my husband," Brooke countered, throwing his pants into the washer.

"If I stop being your child, who will you mother?"

Brooke bit her lip. "Nathan, just because I can't have kids doesn't mean you have to act like this."

Nathan let out a sigh, frustrated with Brooke's inability to accept his feelings on their whole issue with kids. They had found out about a year ago that she couldn't conceive after a complication with her first pregnancy…

Nathan ran down the hallway in the hospital, frantically looking for Brooke's room.

"I'm l-look-lo-," he panted, trying to catch his breath from running up the hospital's 3 flights of stairs.

"How can I help you?" the nurse at the front desk asked understandingly, a feeling of sorrow already washing over her as she watched the young man look in nearby rooms for his wife.

"I-I'm looking for my wife, Brooke Scott. She's 5 months pregnant… I have to see her. The hospital called me and they said it was serious-" The words came out in a rush as Nathan caught his breath, running a hand through his rough hair.

The nurse offered him a supportive smile as she looked at her computer, searching for the name. "She's in room 12. Down the hall to your left, son."

"Thank you." Nathan gave her a grateful, yet terrified smile as he rushed down the hallway.

He stood outside her door for a moment, unable to move, glancing at her beautiful face through the glass that was the top half of the door. He could tell she was crying, the way her knees were pulled up to her chest and her shoulders were shaking heavily. She looked so small… so afraid and vulnerable. He had never seen her this way in the number of years he had known her.

He snapped out of his daze and walked into the room, immediately taking her sobbing body into his arms.

"Nathan, I didn't mean to-I was trying to put-" She kept sobbing, uncontrollable tears falling down her cheeks.

"Shh, baby. This is not your fault, you hear me? Everything's going to be fine," he told her soothingly as he ran a hand through her hair, bringing her body closer to him to help control her shaking.

"N-No it's not. He's gone, our little boy. He's gone forever. I-I'm just so, so sorry." She leaned in closer to him.

"Brooke, don't apologize." Nathan could feel his eyes misting over as he heard the news, but he knew that he had to be strong for her. The moment he started breaking down, she would turn into a mess, and she didn't need that right now, not at all.

The couples' moment was interrupted as a doctor walked through the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to have a word with you both," she stated apologetically.

Nathan looked at Brooke. "Are you up for it, sweetie?"

She nodded as she sat up straighter and wiped her tears, trying her best to compose herself.

He looked at the doctor, motioning for him to continue as he put an arm around Brooke and softly rubbed her back, hoping to comfort her in any way he could.

"It appears that the accident has caused Mrs. Scott to now be unable to conceive children. I'm so sorry, but we everything we could. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. Maybe at a later date we can start talking about your other options, such as surrogacy or adoption."

Nathan tried to hide the disappointment in his eyes as he looked over at Brooke, watching her break inside as she digested the information.

The doctor smiled sympathetically at the couple as she silently exited through the double doors and left them to their thoughts.

"Brooke, sweetheart-"

Brooke shook her head. "It's all my fault, Nathan. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear. I should've been resting and-" she broke off as a sob escaped her lips and she buried her face into his chest, unable to continue.

"Babe, this was in no way your fault. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Everything will be all right." He wrapped his arms around her as she continued crying into his chest, soaking his shirt with her tears of grief.

Everything had changed after that day. He told her numerous times that it was okay, that she had nothing to feel sorry or inadequate for, but it felt like he constantly blamed her and she was always putting herself down because of that fact.

He shook his head, snapping out of his daze.

"Okay, well listen," he told her. "Tonight is the new hotel opening, what time do you want to go?"

Brooke sighed, turning around. "I'm not coming, Nathan."

"Your not coming? Brooke, if I show up alone everywhere, people will think there's a problem."

"So? Who cares what they think?" she asked.

"What about what I think?" he challenged.

Brooke sighed again, turning around to face him. "Look Nathan. These business parties, the openings, they're just not for me. I don't belong in that part of your life."

"Brooke," Nathan pleaded, reaching an arm out and bringing her closer. "You belong in every part of my life."

"Nathan, think about it. When was the last time we did something I wanted?"

"Brooke, you want to clean 24/7. And I'm sorry, but that really isn't my idea of a good time."

"Okay, fine let's talk about it," she proposed.

"Whoa… talk? No, not now, I have to go." Nathan let her go, walking away.

"Why can't we talk about it? You always start something and when I want to talk about it, you bail," she shouted after him.

Nathan turned around, switching on the vacuum cleaner. "What did you say?"

"Nathan, c'mon. I want to talk… Nathan!" Brooke sighed and threw her hands in the air as he walked out of the room, yelling something about a meeting.

Her life hadn't necessarily been bad for the past couple of years, but there was still a feeling, a feeling that lay in the pit of her stomach that told her something was missing. Nathan showered her with so much affection and she could never ask for more, but there wasn't the connection she desired, the love she craved for.

It had felt like they had grown even further apart when she had found out she couldn't have children. He always said he didn't care, but she knew that Nathan loved kids and that he somewhat resented her for it.

Yet, they had made their own little world for themselves. And while it wasn't perfect, it was comfortable. He loved her more than she thought possible and she wasn't willing to hurt him in any way.

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