Chapter 12—Let Go Of My Defenses

Sorry for the short delay, but it will be well worth it. Here's to a great second semester :) Here ya go! (Story Title—All In by Lifehouse-)

Knocking. That was what she heard. No, not knocking...Pounding. On the front door. Quickly, the redhead jolts upright in bed, trying to focus on anything but the incessant pounding. Grunting, she makes her way through the bedroom door, down the ever-growing set of stairs, and finally to the door. Swinging it open, she sends her ex a death glare.

"Brock, what in the hell are you doing pounding on my door at..." She glances at the clock above the television, "1 in the afternoon?" Now her argument wasn't so strong.

"Reba, I need-"

She doesn't give him a chance to finish. "Well, whatever it is, I don't have time for you today, Brock. I've got a meeting in a couple of hours, and I still need to shower and get rid of this hangover. So, if ya don't mind." Before the the door slams in the man's face, he pushes it forcefully, with his calloused left hand. She's already halfway up the stairs by this point, but whips around from the sound of the slam of the door against the back wall.

"Hey! I told you I can't do this today! I don't have the energy or the time to go forty rounds with you now, mister! Now just-"

He cuts her off as she hits the bottom of the stairs with a pained voice.

"Reba, it's Henry. He's-He's" The choking man stands before his ex-wife, who is just now taking in his appearance. Brock's long hair is a mess, but oddly attractive to the woman in her mid forties, his nice blue button down shirt is wrinkled, along with his once pristine khaki pants. His tie is barely hanging on, and his face is one of grief and worry.

"What? What happened? Come here...sit down." Reba's inner wife from 4 years ago immediately takes over, and wraps one arm around his shoulder, while her left hand is busy removing his tie, for comfort.

A long sigh escapes his dry lips. "He's dead."

Those two words stop everything for 30 full seconds. She doesn't remove her arm from his shoulders, or drop her dainty fingers from his tie. She simply stares at him, mouth wide open, praying this was a dream.

"Hh-How? Why? Brock, are you sure?" He jumps up and shrugs her hands off of him. He's now pacing the living room floor, making Reba dizzy. She shakes her head, forcing herself to ignore the growing pain in her head and focus on her husband..wait, ex-husband.

"Yes, I'm sure! Why would I lie about my son's death?!" His arms were flying in opposite directions now, and Reba had to stop him. She stands up and places a hand on either shoulder to ground him.

"Hey, Brock, I'm sorry. Calm down and tell me what happened." She notices the pained look on his face and adds, "please?"

He looks straight into her eyes, and is immediately transported back into that feeling years ago, of being her husband, where he didn't have to worry about a mistress, or an illegitimate child.

"5:30 this morning. A uh, drunk driver hit their car, but only on the right side, so, bj didn't suffer any major injuries. They were traveling back here. To see me." The whole time his eyes never left hers.

"Oh, Brock. Come here." With one swift motion, they were in each others arms again.

After two months of not touching each other, one simple tragedy made it so easy to feel one another. This was the one time neither one of them cared about physical attraction or who should or shouldn't kiss who. Brock's youngest son had died, and she didn't know what to do other than to hold him like she used to do. She feels his hot breath on her neck as it raises her long hair ever-so-slightly, and the shivers down the spine are back again. But she relaxes and brings her head up from his wrinkled shirt to whisper words of love to him.

"Brock, I'm so sorry." She takes a deep breath, praying that God will give her the right words to tell him. "I-I don't know what you're goin through right now, but I'm here. Our beautiful children are here for you and safe and healthy. I thank God for that every day. But there was a reason for this. We may not understand it or be able to comprehend that Henry's-gone. But I know one thing," At this, she hears his sobs, and pushes his body back, still grasping his shoulders and looking into his misty blue-gray eyes, "You're my best friend, and whatever you need, I'll get it for you. Or I'll do something, or call some people if you need-"

Brock's lips cut her off. It was not a passion filled kiss, but it was enough to get his point across that he did need her. It lasted a few seconds, and when they let go, Reba simply nodded at him, in understanding. They both knew each other enough to know that appreciation and sorrow was going through both of their minds.

"You're all I need right now, Reba." She nods again. "I just can't even comprehend this, and I don't need anyone but you. That's why I came here."

"But Brock, why-why did you wait til 1 in the afternoon to come? I've been here all day." They both sit carelessly on the couch, Reba facing Brock, one leg underneath her. Her hand rested on his leg, and his hand rested upon her hand.

"I just, ah, got the call. About 30 minutes ago...I would've come sooner, but..I couldn't move from my bed." He takes a minute, balling up his fist and placing his head upon it while leaning over in grief. She puts her hand on his back, full of empathy. "Barbara Jean called and said the lines were jammed, so she could just then get out. She said she, uhm, hated to tell me over the phone, but ah, she was still in recovery from her surgery. She said she'd call me tomorrow to talk more."

"Do you know what her injuries were?" She asked gently.

"Uhm, let's see..." He was obviously having trouble. "I think she mentioned they had to go in and stop some internal bleeding, and she had a broken arm from the airbag."

"Oh." There were no words to really say.

"I just don't know..what to do Reba. I don't... know." It came out in broken pieces between sobs.

All she did was hold him while he sobbed and occasionally whispered soothing words in his ear. Finally, Reba could see he really needed rest.

"Brock, let's get you to bed. You're exhausted." She could see him start to object. "Eh-eh! It's fine. You'll take Cheyenne's old room. And the kids are at sleepovers for the next two nights."

"Thank you, Reba." He only muttered, but his eyes had a glimmer when he looked at her. She took his hand as they glided up the stairs. When they made it to Cheyenne's room, he looked at her.

"Reba, will you, will you stay with me?"

END OF Chapter 12

-Cliffhanger...hehe-

Until next time...

"Seek the LORD and his strength; seek his presence continually!"- 1 Chronicles 16:11