Chapter 7-Trying Not To Love You, Only Goes So Far

Hey everyone! I'm back…and Thanks to my 3 (yes, out of 72 hit on Sunday, ONLY 3 reviews—what's up guys?) reviewers!

Do me one favor while you read this: Go to YouTube, and type in "Trying Not To Love You by Nickelback". That's what this chapter is based on. Love the song as it totally fits this whole story, also!

So, here's the big one! Enjoy.

You call to me, and I fall at your feet
How could anyone ask for more?

Previously on Reba:

"Thanks, Van. I really appreciate it." Reba leans over and gives her son a kiss on the cheek, while touching his arm gently.

"Sure, Mrs. H." He waves to Brock as he reaches the door.

When Reba hears it close, she turns to her ex-husband.

"Well, that was…"

"Not good." Brock let's out the obvious, collapsing next to Reba on the couch.

"And I thought Barbara Jean would be our problem! Do you really think she'll come around?" Reba becomes doubtful.

"Of course she will, honey. It'll just take some time. You have to keep in mind that this came out of left field for them." Brock rubs her upper arm.

"I guess…" A moment of comfortable silence follows.

"Are you ready to eat lunch?" Brock remembers the meal he prepared for them before her nap and their daughter's outburst.

"Yes, I'm starving!" She recalls that she hasn't eaten since last night's pizza. "What'd you fix?"

"Grilled cheese sandwich, Reba style, and tomato soup." He grins when he sees her reaction upon hearing that he even attempted to make her famous grilled cheese.

"Wow! Really, you stealin' my sandwich?" She rears back as they enter the kitchen.

"Why, you got a problem with that? Besides, it's not like I could make them as good as you can."

"Not at all…merely an observation. But thank you for the compliment."

"Anytime…So, shall we?" Brock gestures, pulling out her chair, and immediately noticing her surprised, yet sweet smile at his subtle motion.

"Thank you." Watching him put the cuisine on the table, she noticed how much of a changed man he was. Reba must've had a glowing look on her face, because Brock asked what she was looking at.

"Oh, nothing." She replied. "Let's eat."

Thirty minutes later, they made their way to the couch, stomachs full, and both laughing.

"So, how'd I do, master?" Brock Hart descends onto the soft cushion, as she falls into him, looking up with a sly smile slowly making its way to her features.

"Very well, young grasshopper. But…the student can never surpass the master." Brock chuckles and holds her close.

"This is nice." He simply states.

"Yeah…it is." She breathes out, hoping this feeling of unexpected bliss will continue to progress. Reba wonders back to the good times. Before a mistress, teenage pregnancy, and a grandchild.

"What are you thinking about, huh?" He sees a grin on her face, and wonders where her pretty mind has traveled to.

"Oh, just life before the kids grew up so fast."

Brock chuckles, knowing exactly what she was feeling. "Yeah, those were good times, weren't they?"

"They were amazing." She looks at him, sporting a sweet grin. That grin turns mischievous when a specific memory hits her brain. "Do you remember our fifth anniversary?"

"Oh, do I? We left Cheyenne with your parents and rented a condo on the coast of Florida for a week."

"I don't think we ever left the room, do you?"

"The room? Hell, I was gonna say the hot tub!" Brock laughs, thinking back to the wonderful, romantic week they had.

"Yeah, you're right. The very hot tub that Kyra was conceived in." They both looked to one another with their sly smiles and seductive glances. Just as they were nearing each other's lips for a forbidden, yet heated lip-lock, a screeching set of tires jolted them out of there intense memories.

"What the hell was that?" Brock questions, jumping from her embrace and over to the door, leaving a frustrated Reba behind on the couch, grimacing.

"I don't know, but whoever it was, I'm gonna kill them." Her teeth remain gritted, as she nears the now open front door.

"Is that-what-why are my clothes all over your front yard?" He sputters out, flinging one arm in the direction of the scattered mess and one arm pushing against the frame of the door. Reba comes rushing up behind him, as she caught the apron he threw off.

"What are you talking about? Who would do-.." She trails off, trying to think of anyone who could do this. Cheyenne was mad when she left over half an hour ago, but she didn't have a key to her father's house.

"I don't know, but I'm not leaving them out there so the whole damn neighborhood can see!" Brock runs out into the bright sun, before any neighbors caught sight of his smiley face boxers on the freshly cut lawn. Meanwhile, Reba sighs as she searches the yard for anything else, like a person or the car that sped away. Turning to her left, she sees a piece of paper hanging from the mailbox. Curious, the red head gently pulls the paper that was taped to the box, noting the handwriting.

It was from Barbara Jean. Gasping, her hand unconsciously moves to her mouth in complete shock, as she read the unbelievable words.

"Dear Brock,

I'm sure your girlfriend has now informed you that we had a little chat this morning after church. She probably told you that I seemed content with the recent arrangement, and I was until I remembered that she told me that you two kissed while we're still married?

Well, have at it, Brock. I'm done. I saw my lawyer yesterday, signed the papers, and he is mailing them to you tomorrow. Henry and I will be taking a long vacation in Fisheye Bottom, so you two can go for it.

-Barbara Jean

P.S.-Hope you don't mind that I cleaned out your closet. Figured it would be easier to move in with her."

"I think I got it all, but who-." He stops, seeing Reba's had over her mouth, and a tear slowly falling down her face. "Honey, what hap-." She cuts him off.

"Read. This." Reba is sick to her stomach, as it is finally hitting her that she's breaking apart a marriage. She falls into in the glider on the porch, while Brock reads the letter from his soon-to-be ex-wife. Reba can't even watch his reaction, say nothing of look him in the eye.

"Well, fine. If she wants it this way, then she can have it!" Brock crumpled up the papers into his hand, and put his hands on his hips.

"Can you believe this, Reba?" Brock is so angry he's fuming. But once he sees his angel shedding tears, he pushes his anger to the back burner. "Oh…Honey, it's okay." He forgot that she was even there for a second. Kneeling down beside her, he wipes her tears away.

She shakes her head, refusing to be the reason their marriage broke up. "No, Brock, it's," She looks away, unwilling to let him in even further, when there are two people on their way to Fisheye Bottom hurting and confused, "it's not, okay."

"Reba, what's wrong? Not five minutes ago, we were on the couch going through old memories."

"What's wrong?" She asks, incredulously, "Brock, your wife just threw your entire wardrobe on my lawn, left that heinous note, then sped away with your son! You can't seriously think that wouldn't affect me do you?" Her whole body is now animated, compared to being mute mere seconds ago.

"Of course that affects you, but we can't do anything about it." He holds her arms down, before they can go flying back up again. She violently shakes her head. "Sweetheart, look at me," Reba turns to look at Brock. Tears had stained her face in the short amount of time that Brock had read the note.

"This is not your fault. If it's anyone's, it's all mine, okay? But we can't change the way we feel about each other, just because BJ took off and Cheyenne's mad." Reba took the opportunity to interject.

"Brock, we can't do this."

"What are you-." He was stunned.

"It doesn't matter how we feel about each other. Cheyenne was right, Brock. We're not just hurting Barbara Jean, we're hurting Henry. And our whole family. This has to stop." A definite tone is discovered by Brock, but he's not accepting it.

"No it doesn't. Come on, Reba, you trust me don't you? We can do this. I love you! I'm committed more than ever, sweetheart." He felt he was losing her, so he did the only thing he knew how: he held onto her hand for dear life.

"We can't do this Brock! Haven't you listened to a damn thing I've said?" She takes a deep breath, looking upward, in a similar manner of how her daughter did not even an hour ago. "Brock, I love you. I truly do. But I cannot be the reason that you lose your son…or your wife." Salty tears sting at her eyes, once again.

"But why now? You were just fine at lunch."

"Don't you see? Like I said before, your son is gone! And it's all because of me!" Reba gets up suddenly, only to feel her arm tugged in the direction she came from.

"Don't." One word says it all. This time, tears are in his eyes, trying not to fall. "Don't do this, Reba. We can work this out, okay? I just-I can't lose you…not again."

"Let go, Brock." She looks him in the eye with one simple plead. "Please. It hurts, okay." Reba was not referring to his tight grip on her wrist. "This is too much, I'm sorry." Reba breaks free of his superglue grip, and runs into the open door, slamming it, careful to lock it, on her way up to her room.

Brock comes to life and bangs on the door for all he's got in him; however it comes to no avail.

"No…please, no." Brock slowly falls to the ground against the door.

As Brock suffers at the front door, a woman of forty five is falling apart in her bedroom, unsure if she made the right decision. Instead of debating this thought, for now, she grabs the bottle of whiskey carefully hidden under her mattress and does what she knows she will regret later. Drinking a long swig from the full bottle.

If Brock couldn't be hers, then at least she had Mr. Jack Daniels.

'Cause trying not to love you, only goes so far
Trying not to need you, is tearing me apart
Can't see the silver lining, from down here on the floor
And I just keep on trying, but I don't know what for

End of Chapter 7

Soooo…what'd ya think? Going in a different direction here at the end, but keep the faith, it'll lead to interesting things… The whiskey thing: I don't do alcohol at ALL, but it went good in the story. Go with it.

Let me know if I should keep going on this story path or make a sequel, like a few months down the road?

Thanks!

Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near, let the wicked forsake his way, and the righteous man his thoughts let him return to the LORD that he may have compassion on him and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. Isaiah 55:6-7