Chapter 22: Last Train Home

Wow. Okay, so I think that when I get writer's block for years, I should just turn on my Reba playlist on Spotify! Cause that's what I just did, haha! Enjoy y'all!

Chapter title: Last Train Home by John Mayer

Previously on Reba:

Reba looked up at him, mouth agape. Who the hell was this man in her bed? Sure, she had seen how much he had changed this year, especially the past three months, but they never really talked about his marriage with her before…it was just something that they understood was in the past.

"Wow…you surprise me every day, Brock Hart."

"Be sure to include that in your wedding vows, 'kay?"

It had been a week since the two had officially shared more than sleep in their bed. Reba was truly blessed, and her fiancé was over the moon. The couple had gotten back into a work routine since Reba's heart attack and had even started jogging together this past month. Their kids were anxious to poke fun at them, but that just gave them more motivation to keep their pace up.

Reba was just finishing a solo run this morning before work when she picked the previous days mail out of the mailbox.

Sweaty and out of breath, she gripped the doorknob quickly and shut the door with ease. Brock was still asleep, as he had been up later than she. He had been on the computer, "emailing", he said, but about what, Reba wasn't so sure. Sure, she trusted him, but there were certain things in their relationship that still seemed mysterious. After all, they had spent four years apart until a few months ago.

What did Brock do to fill the free hours? Did he have a job on the side? Was he still pursuing his golf career, when his practice had jumped back to the huge success it was all those years ago?

Reba flounced on the couch, tired of the anxious thoughts that kept creeping into her mind. She was very thankful, so why couldn't she push those thoughts to the side? Flipping through the mail, she found the cable bill and an invite to mutual couple friends BBQ, which made her smile. She loved going to events with Brock. While they could enjoy time spent apart, they were glued to the hip at their friend's gatherings. He complimented her well and she laughed at his jokes.

He was also there for her when things weren't so well.

Like at the last social event they attended a few days ago.

Reba's realty office had an evening mixer for new clients in the area, searching for homes. It was mostly targeted towards bachelors, looking for the right fit in downtown Houston. The alcohol was flowing and while Brock seemed to have no qualms about having a couple of drinks, Reba was about to crumble. Mark, the twenty-five-year-old financial advisor was asking Reba about lofts downtown when the tray with jack and coke came by. Mark took one without thinking, and Reba found herself with a small glass in her hand. Slowly twirling the liquor in her shaking hands, she slightly shook her head to focus on the details that her client was asking her. Without realizing it, she had taken two, then three sips of the smooth combination. Mark flipped the page of the brochure and suddenly she looked down at the drink in her hands and became aware of what she was doing. Nervously, her eyes darted around the room, looking for the bathroom or…Brock.

His eyes met her pleading ones from across the room, where he was discussing the latest football recruits with one of Reba's partners. He suddenly knew that was her signal for help. He politely excused himself from Tim and sat his drink down before gliding over to his fiancé. Brock's hand found the small of her back, plastering on a small smile to Mark. He felt her sink slightly into his arm.

"Hey honey, so sorry to interrupt," He gestured a nod to Mark who looked up from the booklet, "I think Tim said you had a phone call downstairs. Sounded like one of the kids said something about being locked out of the house?" She knew he was saving her, so she glanced to Mark and played her part.

"Oh no, I should go take care of this! Mark, I'm so sorry. If you'll email me with the properties you wanted a showing of, we can get that set up later in the week." Mark nodded emphatically and waved for her to take care of her family. He turned to grab another booklet, while Brock took the drink from her hands and set it on a tray near the bar.

"Come on, follow me" he said quickly, his left hand moving to take the other hand's spot behind her back

"Where are we going?" She saw him pushing her towards the elevator, and protested, glancing back at the drink, "Brock, I can't leave, I've got clients that need-," He pressed the down button and the door immediately opened.

"Just trust me," he said as the door behind the closed. She turned to face the steel gray doors and let out a huge breath. Brock moved in front of her. He quickly hit the emergency stop button, but she didn't even notice. He didn't need anyone coming in the elevator seeing one of the top realtors in Houston having a breakdown.

"Honey, just breathe… That's it." She was bent over, hands on her knees and he was in front of her still, rubbing her back.

"Brock I was so closing to losing it."

"Losing what, Reba?" He knew, but she needed to say it. She needed to come to terms with her drinking.

"Everything Brock! My body was shaking back there! You saw me! One damn drink and I lose it! What the hell is wrong with me?" She popped up wringing her hands in front of him. He grabbed them and forced her arms down in front of her, steadying her nervous body.

"Reba calm down. Breathe. Tell me what you were feeling, come on now…It's me." His pleading blue eyes told her to let her guard down. He knew there had to be a reason she freaked out.

"Something that I hadn't felt in months. But I don't know why! The last time I drank, we were home, and everything was fine," She motioned a line in the air with her hands flat.

Brock smirked, "Yeah, I remember. I mean, I thought it was more than fine but if you don't remember it all too well, we can go home and try again…" He knew he was pressing her buttons, but he had to try to lighten the mood for just a second.

She glared at him, and hit is arm lightly. He winced while she paced the small elevator floor.

"Oh I remember. That's the problem. Why was I fine then but couldn't even hold myself steady in front of a potential client?!" Her arms flail, and he turns to face her moving body.

"Well, the other night, it had been a long day, and you had just had a bath and taken a melatonin like 5 minutes before we put that movie in. I grabbed us drinks and you were really relaxed," He sees her stop pacing and her body drop slightly with a sigh. He backs her against him and grips her shoulders as she turns to face him. Tears threaten to fall.

"Come on, Reba…I need to know what you felt back there. Why was the drink hard for you?"

"Because that's how it started when we broke up six months ago." She sighed, and rubbed her temples, knowing she had to let him in. "The night after I drank whiskey in my bedroom…the night after I made you leave…I had an event just like this one. Except I couldn't bring you with me. And the more I thought about you and how you weren't here…" She held her heart, only because she felt the scar of the heartache, "So...I drank that night…a lot. And I forgot about you, for a while at least. I sold five condos that night… before I got too drunk to know where the hell I was. Luckily, a lot of us pooled in for a cab, but that night…I just wanted the pain to go away. I didn't want to feel anything if you couldn't be with me. It was the night I thought I'd never get you back."

He saw the pain coming back to her eyes, and he did the only think he knew how to do. He grabbed her tight, with her arms up by her chest, hands still clinched. They stood in that elevator like that for a while. She slowly loosened her fists and moved her arms around Brock. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his strong muscles and smelled his enticing aftershave. He was there and wasn't leaving. No matter how long it took her to get through her problem, he was there.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm not leaving you, ever again, please believe me," He breathed into her ear, and slowly pulled back. He kissed her quickly, and she responded, softly biting his lip upon his release. She nodded when he pulled back.

"Let's go home?" She nodded again. She had been putting in overtime lately, to make up for her lost time since the heart attack. This mixer was an important one, but she was just trying to beat her own personal goal. All her clients were mostly families or rich, retired bachelors. She had goals of saving up enough to buy a beach house with Brock…but no one knew about that one yet. Not even Brock.

He pulled at her bottom lip as she stood on her toes to give him better access. His hands glided down from her back, a little further. She found her fingers tangled in his hair…she had made him promise to only get it trimmed—she loved his dirty blonde hair a bit longer.

He reached behind him and pushed the release button on the elevator and they both felt the jolt of motion, as they glided through the floors, still lip locked. When they felt the elevator stop on the first floor, they parted, breathlessly.

"Can we finish this at home?" She pleaded to his raised eyebrows, "Yeah, I'm sure," Reba answered his unspoken question.

"If you say so…" He knew they needed to talk more about her drinking, but he was willing to be her distraction for the night. She gave him an encouraging grin, as she pulled him out of the elevator, hands intwined, her leading the way. He sighed, admiring the woman in front of him.

"Reba! You down there?" She was jolted out of her memory by her fiancé from upstairs.

"Coming" She got to the end of the end of the mail pile and found a letter with her address, care of Brock Hart. Reba pondered the long white envelope. That's odd…mail had been coming here for Brock, addressed correctly, for at least three months. He hadn't moved in then, but they just figured since he had just sold his and Barbara Jean's house this would be a safe option for mail.

Her fingers ran across the return address: DNA Laboratories of Houston. Her brow crinkled.

"Reba! Where are my clean boxers?" She jumped in her place on the couch. She quickly glanced over her shoulder. No one. He was still upstairs. Looking back at the envelope, she had to think fast. She swiftly bounded from the couch, over to the bookshelf near the kitchen and placed the envelope on a stack of books, just above eye-level. She'd ask him about it later. Her level of concern was low…he had been there for her in the elevator that night, and every step since her heart attack…why should she have any inclination of worry in her aging mind? This man she had loved for thirty years was right there and knew her like the back of his hand.

She shook her head as she flew up the stairs, ready to help the poor man find his boxers. But instead, her toe found her son's football cleats.

"Dammit! Jake!" She yelled as she made it to the top of the stairs. She hobbled into their room and set on the foot of the bed, while Brock came out of the bathroom, only wearing a very small bathmat as a towel. If she wasn't in so much pain, she'd have bust into a fit of laughter.

"What were you yelling at?" He strode over to the laundry basket in the corner of the room, sifting through dirty laundry.

"Your son left his dang cleats on the stairs again and I stubbed my toe." She grimaced, holding her big toe, while he snorted and shook his head. "The next time he does that, I'm grounding him."

"I'll talk to him when he gets home from Tommy's. He should know better than that," Brock scolded as he got to the bottom of the basket. Reba was still in shock that her soon-to-be-husband was actually interested in parenting their children. She quickly shook her head and reminded herself of how good she had it.

"Where are my boxers again?" He turned around, still bent over. This time, the red head had to laugh. His bathmat/towel situation had slowly started to fall where he had attempted to tie it on the side of his hip. "What?!" He was starting to get annoyed, and this only made her laugh harder.

"What the hell is so funny? You just stubbed your toe!" He waved his arms and lost the towel completely. "Ah damn…and where are the bigger towels" He began to see why she was laughing. Brock made a move to pick up the towel but decided against it.

"Well, since you think this is so funny, why don't you go find my boxers for me?" He stood there with all the confidence in the world, faded fake tan and all.

Reba got her breath and dismissed him, "Sorry Brock, I've got a showing at 9am! Gotta shower and head out the door." She moved into her walk-in closet near Brock, and shed her tank top, throwing it past her fiancé into the dirty hamper. He raised his eyebrows and formed a smirk.

Walking into the closet, he saw her back was to him. He stood right behind her, still naked, and put his hands just between her thighs.

"I don't think you should get in that shower by yourself," He whispers in her ear. Brock's lips find her neck. She breathes out slowly.

"Brock, I'm serious. This showing is important" But she found herself leaning into him as she uttered the words.

"Oh, you'll be there…but I can't seem to find my boxers. And since you have to be clean before you can help me find them…well, I'll just have to get in there and help you."

"Brock Hart, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to seduce me." Brock pulls her long hair out of the ponytail she still had from her run.

"You'd be right, soon-to-be Mrs. Hart," she turned around, putting her arms around his neck, still clad only in her sports bra and tight joggers. She kissed him long and hard, now feeling him against her. She took his hand and led him to the bathroom.

"Only because I love you…" she muttered as the shower door closed behind them. He picked her up, and pressed her against the shower wall, quickly removing the sports bra.

"Well, it's my lucky day, huh?" His smirk was still there. She relaxed into him, and let the past days worries float away, focusing only on him and dreaming of their upcoming wedding day. Only five more weeks until she would become Mrs. Brock Hart…again.

END of Chapter 22

Again, I'm awful for not updating. But most of this chapter just flowed SO well while writing…Let me know your thoughts in the reviews, please!