I'm so sorry for making you wait so long for this update. I've been working non stop and even though had most of the chapter written, I hadn't had time to check for typos and proof read it well. Today I had the day off! Enjoy! The secrets you've all been waiting for. Oh there is more though. And some more stuff…hehe. Get your minds out of the gutter, not yet. But still I think you'll quite enjoy it anyway.

Chapter 8

Dylan needs a shave. The thought's been on his mind since he and Steve, David and Erica left the house for Marshall's office. As much as he hates to admit it, Valerie was right. He's been so preoccupied with getting Brenda settled, he didn't realize his wife might think him a stranger. But a shave has to wait. Because Marshall Evan's apparently can't.

Running a hand across his beard, Dylan scours the office with a wary eye. A place he hasn't been in for nearly a year. Gold records line the wall, awards on a shelf, more than a few for Brenda's work, bottles of whiskey on a bar cart. David, Erica and Steve seated together beside Dylan on a long black couch.

Marshall, behind his mahogany desk, rattles off a game plan. "Let's talk career next steps," Marshall says, stroking a graying sideburn. "Hell, guys. I ain't gonna dance around it. It's obvious you three have been out of commission for a while. You two have done smaller shows but it's missing that thing that you guys had when you first started."

Marshall raises up a hand when Dylan opens his mouth. "Not that that's anyone's fault. I understand, Dylan, I do. We all do. It's been a hell of a year, you forget I lost my brightest star too."

Arms wide, Marshall gestures at the room. "But now, Brenda's back. Which means you're back."

Erica, from his spot beside Dylan, grumbles, "You mean your moneymakers are back."

"You want the stage back," Marshall volleys. "How about we work together to make that happen?"

Shifting on the couch, David sits up, his eyes on Dylan. Steve's are too. Eager. Hopeful. Dylan's not gonna lie. A return to writing, to music, to being on the road with his family is tempting. But hell, he's been MIA for nearly a year. He couldn't find the words to a good song in a tin can.

"I'm rusty," Dylan says with a shake of his head. "We haven't worked together in a while. I…I haven't written anything in a long time."

A shrug. "So start."

"What are you thinking, Marshall?" Steve asks, manager voice kicking in.

Marshall lights a cigar. White smoke curls around his face. "I'm thinking a return from your hiatus. Something big. Something expensive. Something on stage so the public knows your hiatus is done. They'll eat it up. Especially with Brenda back." Dylan stiffens. Beside him, Steve's frowning. He doesn't like it any more than Dylan does.

"My wife isn't a story, Marshall. And she isn't going to be used to sell your records and she is sure as hell not ready for acting or public appearances either."

Making a quick decision, Dylan slaps his hands on the legs of his jeans. "I'm not doing it. It's too soon."

Marshall sucks on his cigar and looks at David. "That alright with you? You're the one hurtin' for money here."

David tenses at the proclamation and shakes his head in annoyance. "Goddamnit, Marshall."

Confused, Dylan leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks to his best friend for answers.

"What's he talking about?"

Before David can reply, Marshall chuckles and says, "Your friend's been having a little too much fun playing a gambling man."

Dylan cuts a glance at Steve, who looks just as surprised before glancing back at David.

"Is that true?"

"I'm not proud to admit it, but yeah. It is." David sighs long and low. "I got into some money trouble early this year. It's why I've been pushing Steve to set up every shit-ass gig he can line up."

David glances guiltily at the ground. The tips of his ears burn bright red with embarrassment. "Valerie doesn't know yet." Erica takes his hand silently. Her eyes twinkle with knowledge. She knows what has been going on.

Dylan sucks in a sharp breath. It's not like David to keep things from Valerie. She'd be pissed. She'd be devastated. She'd be fucking pissed.

"Jesus, David. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Man, you didn't need that burden. Not with Bren…" David trails off. Silence falls. The truth hits Dylan like a bucket of ice water. David couldn't tell him. Not when Dylan was so lost in his own shit. The notion has Dylan feeling like the worst type of man. He's been so out of it for so long, he didn't even realize his best friend was sinking.

"Damn." Steve leans back on the couch, gives David a nod. "I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be." David's hazel eyes are clouded with shame. "I got myself into this mess. Dylan needs to focus on Bren—"

"No," Dylan interrupts. All eyes swivel to him."

It doesn't matter what Marshall wants. It doesn't even matter what he wants. It matters what his best friend needs. David is in trouble. Dylan's gotta help him.

"I can take care of Bren," Dylan says. "And I can take on the band."

"You'll write again?" Steve's gawking.

Marshall's smirking.

"I'll write," Dylan agrees. Steve lets out a hoot, clapping Dylan on the back. David gives Dylan a grateful nod. Erica smiles widely.

"My boy, my boy." Excitement tinges Marshall's voice. "You got the perfect comeback song already started for them."

Dylan meets Marshall's knowing stare. "What's that?"

"Brenda's song." Dylan freezes at the words. That song—it's like shrapnel to his heart. His gut twists as the lyrics he wrote for his wife, right before she died, lash the caverns of his mind like a whip.

Steve's cringing. David shakes his head. "That's a huge ask, Marshall."

"It isn't finished," Dylan says through his teeth.

"Finish it, then. It's a damn good song." Dylan clenches a fist. Of course it's good. It's about Bren. Though his wife's inspired countless songs, this one's the most honest song he's ever written for her. Every single line, every lyric was about what she meant to him, what she did to him. She kept the pressure on, always. Made him do better, write honest. Brenda always told him his writing had to come from the heart if he wanted it to be honest. Without Brenda, he had no heart.

But putting it out there like some commodity to be sold, feels wrong. Like Dylan's cashing in on Brenda's homecoming. Putting her on display. The song's personal. He needs to finish it for her, but it'll be a cold day in hell before he gives his wife up to the world. That song is hers.

"No," Dylan says sharply. Marshall's face darkens, but he continues. "I'll finish the song. It can be a deep cut they play in small bars, but that isn't their single."

This time, he doesn't even have to ask. Both David and Erica nod their agreement. Marshall sucks his teeth, considering Dylan's refusal, then drops it, apparently deciding not to irritate Dylan any further.

"Looks like we got ourselves a deal." He jabs his cigar at Dylan, bits of ash scattering to his desk. "You'll be on a stage in a month." He looks to David and Erica.

A month. His gut twists. He has a month to write them a comeback song.

They all follow Dylan out into the hallway.

"Lunch?" David asks. Dylan shakes his head.

Impatient, he punches the elevator button. "I want to get back to Bren."

Steve laughs. "She isn't gonna be home for another couple of hours. Not with Valerie at the helm." He claps Dylan on the back. "Stop worrying."

David grins. "Here we go again, Dylan a kept man…whipped. This is high school all over again. The good years that is."

A chuckle rolls off his lips as they step into the elevator. "I'd say you're right." I'd say she brings me to my knees, he thinks.

David has him pegged. He's never belonged to anyone else since they got back together the last time, because he sure as shit always made sure Brenda knew he was coming home to her. In a matter of seconds, they exit the elevator and turn the corner into the lobby. A text message makes Dylan stop. Thinking of Brenda, wanting to make sure she is okay, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. The alert Dylan sees has him stopping dead in his tracks.

Kelly Taylor.

The woman who's made Dylan's life a living hell for the last year.

He clicks on the message.

Kelly: I saw the news Dylan. Is it true? Is Brenda alive?

Dylan's unmovable. He stares at the text as a new one pops up underneath it.

Kelly: Are you okay? Dylan? Please answer me.

Dylan's eyes close, anger surrounding him, remembering the last time he saw her. Remembering that kiss. That damn stupid kiss that spun his entire world off its orbit.

It was part of a possible publishing deal. Marshall had hooked him up with a meeting with Sony Music. Brenda said it was a bad idea and fought him on it. The first time they had ever been at odds over Dylan's work. She thought going into business with Marshall was stupid. Dylan didn't need an agent. Still, Dylan disagreed. He put that trip before his wife, despite all of Brenda's misgivings that it wasn't his thing. That something was off. And she was right but not because of the deal Marshall was cooking up. The trip was a bad idea for a completely different reason.

Dylan was only staying overnight in California. He had made plans to meet Brandon and Kelly for dinner. Except when he arrived at the restaurant Brandon wasn't there at all. Kelly had said that Brandon had to take a last minute trip to Oakland for a story. Even though Dylan felt a little uncomfortable being alone with his sister-in-law he chalked it up to being an idiot. Kelly was his friend. They had known each other for a long time. Old romantic relationship aside, she was happy with Brandon and he had a wife that he adored. They had been long buried.

After dinner, Dylan walked Kelly to her car. To Dylan's surprise she kissed him in the parking lot of the restaurant. Dylan took her by the shoulders and pushed her away.

"We aren't doing this," he told her firmly. "That's not what this is Kelly. We are not doing this again"

"You once told me, it was what we did. Me and you, on Brenda, on Brandon. It's who we are."

Dylan shakes his head, "No Kel...it's not. It's not who I am. It's not who I want to be. I'm not him anymore. I love Brenda. I'm in love with Brenda. She's my wife."

Kelly got the message plain and clear. Brenda was it for Dylan. Always.

Then why didn't he tell Brenda the truth? Because he was a chickenshit coward, that's why. Because Brenda had been puking her guts out for days because of the pregnancy, because the kiss meant nothing, because he wanted to protect her.

The kicker was—if he had been honest in the first place, she would have believed him. But he wasn't.

Then the worst thing happened. There was a photo of the kiss. A week later, Jasper Jones sent it to Brenda. Who in turn sent it to Brandon, hence why things weren't particularly solid between himself and his brother.

Jasper had been waiting around with a camera, assumingely followed Dylan to LA and snapped his shot of Dylan and Kelly. Why, Dylan didn't know. Blackmail, revenge, good press, but whatever it was, the damage had been done. Determined to get answers after receiving the picture, Brenda took off to get the truth from Dylan. He had been at the studio with Erica and David that night. Only she was distracted thinking about the photo and missed the stop sign at Hells Curve.

An oncoming truck T-boned her, and Steve, who happened to be on his way to their house that night, stumbled upon the accident. He pulled Brenda from the wreckage, saving her life.

That night they lost the baby, and Dylan nearly lost Brenda. The first time.

Lying. Cheating. That was the old him. It was Brenda's deal breaker. When Dylan ran into Brenda in LA a year or so after Donna and David's wedding, Dylan tried desperately to get her back. After getting close those two months she was in LA for a pilot, things turned from friendship to more quickly. But before Brenda would take Dylan back for good, she had said it was for the long haul, that she would not do back and forth, she would not compete with Kelly. Brenda vowed never to be that woman again. She didn't deserve it and wanted no part of the Brenda. Dylan. Kelly Bermuda triangle every again. She'd walk away without a second thought. He promised, she was his forever. No more wrong turns. Brenda was the love of his life. Brenda was his road. All the roads led to her.

"If I'm not your road, Dylan," she said between hot, angry tears—she could barely look at him that night in the hospital—"you tell me now. Please tell me the truth. I told you I wasn't going to do this again."

He got down on his knees beside her hospital bed and swore on his life that there was nothing between him and Kelly. He never knew if Brenda believed him. For weeks after the accident, she pulled away. Distant and grieving. Distracted. She said she'd give him an answer when they got to the Florida. About their road. It was the worst kind of hell, waiting for her answer. He wouldn't blame her if she walked away, but he also knew it would end him.

Somehow the photo never made the tabloids. After Marshall discovered Jasper Jones was behind it, he made it disappear. But Dylan didn't give a shit about any of that. All that mattered was Brenda. His wife's trust in him was top priority; bad press, he could handle. He'd been dealing with that his whole life with his father.

And then he put Brenda on that plane…And now…Now Brenda doesn't remember. She doesn't remember the photo, the car accident, the baby. She doesn't remember the words Dylan whispered at her hospital bedside.

I can't live without you. I love you so much.

"I feel like some hot chicken, are you coming or what?" Steve says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Dylan glares at the text, ignoring it and pocketing his phone.

"C'mon," Dylan grits out. He smears a hand down his wiry beard, thinking about Brenda. About getting back to her. The need to see her is intense, gut-wrenching. He's been without her too long already. "I need to shave."

All the lights in the house are on when Valerie zips into the driveway of the ranch. It's late, near nine o'clock, and dusk has long given way to dark.

"I'll get the bags. Go on in," Valerie says to Brenda. "I'm sure Dylan's having a bitch tantrum I kept you out this long."

Long's an understatement. Between lunch and shopping and the spa, it's been a whirlwind of a day. But a fun one. Brenda's felt better than she has in a long time. Lighter, too. She chopped off her hair. Not too short, her hair was still right above her breasts.

She feels like a part of her, the lonely, frightened thing that lived with Vince is disappearing. Slowly. Surely. Bounding up the porch stairs to the house, Brenda picks up her pace. She hadn't realized she was so eager to get home.

Home.

The thought has her smiling. She tries the knob and finds the door open. The hallway's dim, the slow croon of music on the record player. Dylan paces in the foyer, his back to her, his phone to his ear. Her own phone chirps.

Smiling, she accepts, puts it to her ear. "Hi," she says into the receiver. "I'm here. Behind you." Dylan stops his pacing, turns around.

At the mere sight of her, relief fills his eyes. "I was worried," he says, hanging up his phone and shoving it in his back pocket. Then he blinks, relief replaced with stunned surprise. "Your hair," he says hoarsely.

He moves toward her, meeting her in the middle of the hallway. Instinct has him reaching for Brenda's hair to fiddle with the end of a long dark strands.

She stares up at him, dazed, her mouth dry as a bone. She can barely form sentences. Barely able to focus on the man in front of her.

"I chopped it all off," she blurts when she finds her voice.

"I love it." Dylan's warm brown eyes scour her face. Drinking her in, almost desperately. "You look beautiful."

"You look beautiful too." Dylan blinks again. Because Brenda can't stop staring. His beard is gone. His face is smooth, with just the perfect amount of stubble. Damn, he's handsome. Even more so than she already thought he was. His jawline is chiseled and sharp. His warm dark eyes clear and focused and electric. Brenda's knees go weak. She had liked the beard fine—but she likes this better. Somewhere deep down…this face. She knows it. It's hers.

"Your beard…" Brenda steps closer, unable to pull her gaze away. "You shaved."

Almost self-consciously, he scrubs a lean hand down his chin. "I thought it about time I clean myself up."

Grief stains his voice, but so does determination. She stares up, smiling. "You look…smooth." Dylan cocks a brow, a sexy smirk pulling on his temptation of a mouth.

"I take it that's a good thing?"

"Yeah." Her breath catches. "You look so handsome." She can't stop herself. Standing on tiptoes, Brenda reaches a hand up to slide her palm over Dylan's smooth cheek. The touch of him is like a shot of sunlight in her bloodstream. So warm. So natural. Under the curve of her hand, Dylan becomes a statue. His eyes closed, his chest so still, she wonders if he's even breathing.

Then his eyes open. The way he's looking at her—so desperate, so hungry—God, does she even say this, so madly in love—has her clawing at the edge of sanity. Of something stagnant and tired, warming inside of her, aching for a release.

Still on tiptoes, Brenda angles her body to Dylan's. She shudders as his lean, muscled hand comes out, branding the small of her back. Steadying her. Cupping him to her.

"Bren." Her name on his lips is ragged. A plea in need of reckoning. The want in his eyes staggering.

Kiss me, she thinks. And her heart beats faster. Brenda closes her eyes, tilts her face up, exultant.

Kiss me, Dylan.

God help him, Dylan's a man coming undone. Brenda stares up at him, her gaze searing, light eyes searching, her head tilted in a question. A question she looks like she wants Dylan to answer. He can do that. He sure as hell can. Taking her face in his hand, Dylan whisks a thumb across the high arc of her cheekbone. She leans into him, hot as a furnace, long lashes lowering as she closes her eyes again.

Dylan's brain combusts. The soft curve of Brenda's hip, her trembling body melting against him, is enough to send him into oblivion. He hasn't touched her like this in nearly a year. A goddamned lifetime. A torture Dylan could barely withstand. Too long. So long he's been starved for Brenda.

Heart thundering, he slides a hand into her hair, long dark strands hitting his skin like silk. Brenda lets out a little gasp and inches closer.

Screw going slow. He wants her. She wants him.

After a second of hesitation, he dips his head, his breath blooming against hers.

Brenda's soft lips are barely grazing his when—The front door blows open. The near-kiss dies a slow death as Valerie bangs in like a hurricane.

Goddamnit. Dylan groans and releases Brenda. But she doesn't quite leave his orbit. She stands in front of him, graciously giving him cover from Valerie.

Because Brenda looks so good it hurts. Literally. He winces as his dick throbs viciously, a reminder of what they left unfinished. Yeah, this is exactly what Dylan needs. A full house when he's trying to reconnect emotionally—not to mention physically—with his wife. Fucking perfect. Shaking off his annoyance, Dylan turns to fix his glare at his friend with a frown.

Valerie stands in the foyer, shopping bags hanging off her arms. When he glances down at Brenda, she's frowning too.

Dylan can't help but grin. It's Brenda's scowl. Her trademark look whenever himself or Brandon or Steve pissed her off.

Oblivious to what she's interrupted, Valerie holds up a hand, seeing the irritation in Dylan's eyes.

"I didn't kidnap her, Dylan, geez relax," Valerie grouses. She tries to kick the front door shut but fails, pivoting around like a wobbly Gumby. "I have her home before midnight Jim." She jokes.

"So if that makes her Cinderella, does that make you a wicked stepsister?" A voice grumbles. Steve hangs lazily in the kitchen's doorway, a Drumstick bar in his hands. He smirks as he watches Valerie struggle.

"Fuck you, Steve," Valerie bites out. She puffs a loose strand of hair from her face and looks at Dylan and Brenda in disgust. "I could use a little help here." A heavy package pulls her arm down.

Steve bites into his ice cream and evaluates her. "Yeah, looks like you're really fighting gravity there."

Valerie's mouth snaps open. Dylan closes his eyes, fighting to stay stoic. He's not in the mood for a battle or wise cracks and shit talking between Valerie and Steve. Not now. Not when he and Brenda were so close to—to what? Christ, he's barely been alone with her since he brought her home. The thought of missing out on his wife's kiss has his blood pressure spiking.

"Are you okay, Bren?" Valerie's stopped arguing with Steve, her attention turned to her friend. She closes the gap between them with sudden intensity and presses a hand to Brenda's forehead. "You look flushed."

Brenda laughs, slapping Valerie's hand away. "I'm fine, Val. Stop it."

Dylan shoots a look at Steve. He glances between Dylan and Brenda. Sees their nearness, sees Brenda practically in Dylan's arms if it weren't for Valerie.

Eyes widening, Steve's mouth moves around the word fuck.

"Are you sure?" Valerie continues, peering at Brenda, concern written all over her face. "You seem—"

Steve makes a buzzer sound with his lips, cutting Brenda off before she can really start mother-henning Brenda.

"C'mon, Val," he says. "Let me help you take these upstairs." Valerie frowns in suspicion at his niceties but follows Steve with a huff as he hustles her and her bags up the stairs.

Dylan's eyes move to his wife's face. She's pale, despite the flush that's crept over her cheeks. Damn near exhausted. He looses a breath and curses himself. Brenda's fresh from the hospital. What the fuck is wrong with him? He should be taking care of her, not trying to get in her pants. As if she's heard him, Brenda raises her gaze to his. She moves past him for the kitchen.

"I really do like the new look," she says, her pillowy lips curving into a playful smile. She disappears around the corner. Dylan buries his face in his hands and groans.

Fuck.

He's done for.

Absolutely done.

A knock on the door takes him out of his thoughts. What now?

Dylan exhales a frustrated breath as he reaches, almost aggressively for the door. As it swings open, he is met with Brandon's wary eyes.

He stands a suitcase by his feet. An awkward energy surrounds them.

"Brandon? I didn't think you'd be here until tomorrow." Dylan opens the door further allowing him to come in.

Brandon picks his suitcase up and enters the foyer. "Yeah…sorry about that. I took the last flight out of Washington."

At that moment Brenda enters the foyer from the kitchen. She smiles, "Brandon?"

Brandon's breath gets caught in his throat. He is frozen. Literally seeing a ghost.

"You remember me?" His voice soft. Hopeful.

Her smile fading as she shakes her head, "No…I'm sorry. I recognize you from the pictures." She explains.

Brandon nods, Dylan not missing the disappointment in his brother-in-law's eyes. He sets down his suitcase. He approaches Brenda carefully until they are only a couple feet from each other.

"So we're twins?" Brenda smiles again. Her eyes searching his face. Dylan knows that look by now, she's trying to remember. She is pushing herself too.

Brandon shakes his head, "God Bren…" he thumbs a tear away from his eyes quickly. Like he didn't want anyone to know. He reaches for her and stops.

"Can I…"

Brenda smiles wider, "Of course." She moves in wrapping her arms around her brothers upper back. Brandon's eyes close. There is no hiding the tears now as he squeezes her to him. Dylan watches finding it a little hard to not tear up himself.

"I missed you so much." Brandon whispers as he hugs her tighter against him.

"I'm sorry." Brenda whispers. Brandon pulls away but keeps his arms around her.

"For what?"

"For not remembering."

"Don't you worry about that. Everything will be okay. You'll remember. I'm just so glad you're okay."

Brenda nods, her eyes glancing at Dylan. It's awkward again.

Steve and Valerie save the energy as they enter bickering as usual. They both stop in their tracks.

"Brando!" Steve moves in quickly. They hug fiercely, "You made it!" They slap each other on the back, Brenda moves towards Dylan. To where she feels safe, calm, comfortable.

Valerie moves in with a gorgeous grin, "Brandon." They hug tightly. "I'm glad you're here." She says quietly.

Dylan looks at Brenda, she looks overwhelmed and maybe a little upset, with something else in her expression, feeling left out?

"Brandon…you must be tired. I can show you to the guest room. Brenda is exhausted. Maybe we can all call it an early night and continue the reunion for tomorrow."

Brandon looks at Brenda and Dylan. He nods seeing Brenda's expression. "Sure…I am a bit tired."

Valerie smiles at Brenda, she moves towards her. "You get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Brenda forces a smile, "Thank you for today. It was so fun" She says gently as she embraces her best friend.

As Valerie and Brenda separate she nods, "Anytime." Valerie moves towards the front door. "I'll bring breakfast."

"Bye Val." Is said from all around. Silence surrounds the foyer as the front door shuts.

"Maybe we can…watch a movie?" Brenda finds her voice.

"You sure Bren?" Dylan's hand goes to the small of her back. Concern marring his voice.

She looks up at him and smiles. The her eyes find Brandon's.

"Yeah…I'm sure. But I get to pick the movie."

Brandon, Steve and Dylan laugh as they follow her into the living room.

Brandon sits on a chair, Steve and Dylan sit on the couch. They leave a space between them for her as she searches through the DVD's. She grabs one.

"Let me guess? Dirty Dancing?" Brandon smiles.

Brenda looks up from the cover surprised, "Am I that predictable?"

The guys laugh as Brenda pouts. "No babe…it's just one of your favorites."

She stubbornly puts Dirty Dancing back on the shelf and grabs a random movie from the shelf. She pops it Ito the machine and hits play. She walks and plants herself in the space between Steve and Dylan, with all eyes on her.

Steel Magnolias begins to play. "God…do you have anything beside bitch movies McKay?"

"Hey…my pick, you shut up Steve, you jackass." Brenda crosses her arms with a pout.

Dylan grins, his eyes meeting Brandon's, their eyes saying the same thing. There she is. There's our Bren.

They enjoy the movie, Brenda sobs during the heartbreaking parts, Steve giving her shit, Brandon and Dylan sticking up for Brenda. It's like old times. It's a start…it's a damn good start.

Brenda goes to bed happier than she's been in a long time. At least, happier then she can remember. She learned more about herself today, met her best friend. She doesn't quite know what to think about Valerie, so strong, no bullshit, but she's sure there's a past to that.

She met her twin brother. No memories came about the meeting but she feels comfortable around him. She feels like she was close to him. Steve well…he's the best. It was a good day.

Brenda chuckles to herself in quiet amusement. Plus, no migraines. No dizziness. To Brenda, it's a win. She's healthy. Happy. One foot closer back to herself.

And Dylan. Dylan.

Groaning, Brenda burrows under the covers. What was she doing with him? Acting like some lovesick, love-starved teenager. Not that there's anything wrong with it. He is her husband, after all. Her stomach dips remembering the look in his eyes. The nearness of him. Tan hands. Muscles like whipped ropes. A touch like kindling.

Brenda sighs. Had he wanted her as much as she wanted him? She couldn't have imagined it. She's got something good here with Dylan, with this life she's barely tapped into, and damn if she's letting it go.

After Vince, she needs this. No confines, no cruelty, no lies. She always believed there was something. Something better out there for her, and here it is. Her life in her own hands. She's gonna hang on to that. She's gonna hold it close and remember.

As Brenda drifts into sleep, her brain shuts off. Her body floats outside of herself. She's back in the plane: a seat, a wall, a ceiling. Like one of those open-air movie sets. She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for the split-apart to begin. She doesn't need to see it. She knows what will happen. Her hands grip the armrest as the plane rips through the air, plummeting down, down, down. A pen and journal float across the ceiling. The airplane window spiderwebs. The ceiling peels away in one tearing chunk. Stars glitter across black sky. She can feel the wind on her face. Shrapnel from the wall pierces her cheek. Then—A whisper in the wind.

Brenda opens her eyes. Tonight, the dream's different. She's not alone on the plane. Next to her sits Vince. His smiling face mean and arrogant. Panic rising, Brenda jerks in the seat, but she can't move. Fear has her in a stranglehold.

"You left me, Isabel," Vince says. His crooked eye rolls. "My precious, precious Isabel."

Brenda finds her voice. A husk. "No. I'm not Isabel."

"I told you not to go. I told you if you left, I'd find you. I'd make you pay." A scream tears through Brenda's throat, trying to wake up. She wants to wake up. Please, God, let her wake up.

Vince reaches for her and clamps his hands around her throat. He squeezes. Brenda struggles to breathe. She fights him with all she has. Clawing at his hands, begging for air, but there is none. Prisms of dying light pulse in her vision. With a soft cry, Brenda lets herself go limp and retreats far away inside her mind. Safe. She's safe there. Then, strong hands have her, gripping her trembling shoulders, a voice calling to her from high above. Wake up, Brenda. Wake up. "Bren, baby, wake up. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Brenda." Dylan straddles his wife on the bed, watching in horror as Brenda shakes, her eyes rolled back in her head. The shrill scream she let loose minutes earlier woke the house.

Dylan, Brandon and Steve were on each other's heels as they charged to her room. They found Brenda like this.

Soaked with sweat, her entire body limp and trembling. Now, Steve hovers over them, at a loss for how to help. "Wake her up, man!"

The gut-wrenching terror in Steve's voice shakes Dylan to his core. "I'm trying!" Dylan barks at him.

"You aren't helping, Steve." Scanning Brenda, Dylan eases beside her. He takes her body gently in his arms, cradling her in his lap and tucking her small frame into his larger one, safe and gentle. He brushes hair from her sweaty brow, presses his lips to her temple. He rocks her slow.

"Bren, please. Open your eyes. You're safe…I've got you." His voice is calm and firm. No room for argument. She'll hear him. She has to.

Brandon, hangs in the doorway, stricken and pale. "What's wrong with her?"

Without glancing away from Brenda, Dylan says grimly, "Nightmare."

Soon, Brenda calms. Her breathing slows. Then her eyes pop open. Wild. Terrified as hell. What Dylan sees next terrifies him as well. Brenda can't get air. Her mouth moves around unsaid words; her fingers scrabble frantically at her throat. Dylan pins his eyes to hers.

"Hey," he says, calm and steady despite his jackhammering heart. "Breathe with me. Where are you? You're home. With me baby. You're safe, Brenda…you're safe…"

Finally, a soft, anguished cry escapes Brenda's lips. "Dylan?" she whispers.

"It's me," he says, lifting his arms carefully so she can sit up. She reaches up to touch his face, as if to make sure it's really him. "I'm here, baby. I'm here." Those words undo something tightly wound in his wife.

A sob escapes her lips. She buries her face in Dylan's chest, gripping his shoulders, and weeps violently. Blowing out a ragged breath, Steve moves to Brandon's side and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Relief on both there terrified faces.

Dylan holds Brenda, letting her cry, letting her come back to her baseline. He kisses the top of her head, tucks a lock of damp hair behind her ear.

Sniffling, Brenda looks up at Dylan, her face tear-stained. "I had the worst dream."

"The crash?" Dylan asks, keeping his voice low so she has privacy.

"No. It was—it was Vince. He was there. He tried to—" Brenda breaks off and presses her cheek into Dylan's chest.

Cursing low, Dylan tightens his arms around her. His stomach coils. It was just a dream. And yet, he feels as if he's come so close to having her slip away. Not again. He can't lose her again.

Brenda looks up at him, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry…I just need a moment."

"Take your time." Dylan adjusts his body, shielding her from Steve and Brandon's worried stares. "I promise you, you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

Brenda's smile is wobbly, but she nods. Her hand slides up Dylan's shoulder to wrap around his neck. She grips tight, like she'll never let go, which is fine with Dylan. If he had his way, he'd keep her in his arms forever.

Twisting her body, Brenda turns her face to look at Brandon and Steve framed in the doorway. She sob-laughs, "Now that I traumatized you all, you can go back to bed."

"Fat chance of that," Steve says. He smiles kindly at Brenda to show her he'd put up with it and then some. Glancing at Brandon, he asks, "How about a game of Yahtzee?"

Brandon shrugs Steve's arm off her shoulder. Striding over to the bed, Brandon sits down beside his sister. "Are you okay, Bren?"

Almost reluctantly, Brenda scoots herself out of Dylan's arms. "I'm fine." Already her voice is composed. "Really. I am."

"No, you're not." Brandon sets his hand on her cheek. He purses his lips as he scans Brenda's pale complexion. "I don't want you to be alone. I'll stay with you tonight. I'll—"

"No," Brenda cuts in decisively. "I want Dylan." Dylan's brain spasms on the words, as if unable to process her request. Hell, he's still shitting a brick over her nightmare. Now Brenda's talking about sharing a bed.

Brenda turns her glittery blue eyes to him. "If you want to stay, that is," she adds.

If he wants. Christ. "Remember, I snore," he teases. Yet his body can't deny how much he wants this. To be beside his wife in bed, holding her close.

"That's fine with me," Brenda replies. It's a struggle to keep his face neutral. His heartbeat pounds so loud in his chest he wonders if everyone can hear it.

Dylan glances up to see Steve smirking. Asshole.

"Okay," Brandon nods. "As long as you aren't alone." He stands. "But you call me if you need anything."

As Brandon exits, he shoots Dylan a glare, a warning to take care of his sister.

Then Steve's pulling the door shut on Dylan and Brenda, leaving the two of them alone.

Brenda settles herself onto her side of the bed and runs a hand through her sweaty hair. She still feels jittery from the nightmare.

From the other side of the bed, Dylan's observing her. His eyes haven't left her face, the question hasn't left his lips, so she gives him a small smile. Burrowing deep into the cool sheets, she stretches her legs long, "I'm okay, Dylan."

She can't keep the sigh out of her voice. Dylan, picking up on it, "You sick of it? Everyone worrying about you?"

"Oh yeah. Big-time." Brenda arches a teasing brow. "I bet you can't go a day without an are-you-okay."

He grins. "Hmm, you strike a hard bargain, but I think I can do it, babe."

As Dylan leans over to tuck the blanket up around her waist, his warm palm grazes her bare thigh. Brenda shivers, just now aware she's clad in only a T-shirt and cotton underwear. Not to mention, Dylan's just as scantily clad himself. She watches him with a heavy-lidded gaze. A curl of heat slicks across Brenda's spine. Bare-chested, in lounge pants, Dylan's tan body is lean and muscular in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Brenda's attention drifts as Dylan swipes a pillow from the bed. She frowns. "Where are you going?"

"Floor." One word. A gruff grunt. Brenda gives Dylan a look. There's something about this man and the way he calmed her tonight. No one can do that but him. She wants him in their bed. Beside her.

"Well, that's dumb, so we're not gonna do that." She pats the mattress. "Get in here."

His lips pull up in a smile. "Are you sure?" Dylan laughs out loud at the look she gives him.

Easing himself onto the bed beside Brenda, Dylan flicks off the bedside light. Together, they slip beneath the covers, the room cast in a gray dimness. The sole source of light is the moon outside.

Brenda, an arm tucked beneath the pillow, studies him. Here they are, two feet from each other. Not touching, not talking.

Dylan lies on his back, eyes closed. Brenda utters a frustrated laugh. Hands to themselves, right? Finally, the silence gets to be too much. Screw sleep. Brenda's got to know. She wants to knock down these walls between them. She's asked everyone but Dylan. She's gotten Steve's answer. Erica's. Valerie's. Now she needs Dylan's. She trusts he'll give it to her straight. "Dylan?" Brenda's soft whisper floats between them. His eyes open, flicking to her.

Brenda lifts up onto her elbow. "Can I ask you a question?" He rolls onto his side so they're facing. Chin propped in his palm. Inches apart. Their warm breaths mingling, their eyes locking. "Shoot." Brenda moistens her lips. Just do it, chickenshit. Then—

"Do you love me, Dylan?"

His breath catches on her question. A harsh, ragged hitch that stiffens his entire body.

Brenda ducks her head, unsure what to make of his response. Fiddling with an edge of sheet corner, she fills his silence. "I've been gone so long…I thought that maybe you didn't feel how you used to."

A primal exhale from Dylan. "Fuck."

Brenda lifts her face. Dylan's expression is one of agony. He looks angry at himself. So goddamn pissed off. "Is that what you think? That I stopped loving you?" he asks, disbelief staining his smooth voice.

She squares her jaw. "I don't know." Heat creeps slow onto her cheeks. "Everything's so confusing. I've been trying to figure you out. Us. Our marriage. Wondering what you want and if I even—"

Before Brenda can say anything else, Dylan has her in his arms, has his lips on hers. Starved. Pained. Searching. Brenda gasps into his mouth. The kiss is twenty-four-karat, a short-circuit straight to her heart.

Dylan's hand plunges into her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. Then he pulls her into his solid body, molding her form to his. His lips taste of warm honey, and the blaze in Brenda's heart is enough to power the sun.

This kiss is her answer. Oh yeah, Dylan loves her. Big-time. He's missed her too much. Has been hurting for so long.

The kiss deepens, Dylan's mouth crushing hers. A needy moan escapes her, and she winds her arms around his neck. Her body cranking into overdrive, Brenda slides her bare leg between Dylan's, losing herself in the kiss, in Dylan's hands, his mouth a burning blaze on hers.

With a guttural groan, Dylan grips the curve of her hip and drags her in close. Wonderfully close. His fingertips, ever so gentle, slide over her stomach. Brenda arches into him, closing her eyes, curling her fingers into Dylan's hair.

Unwilling to break the kiss, unable to physically leave the nearness of him. She needs this. God, how she needs this. Every part of herself is pulsing with want. Her body aching, her lips aflame, and her heart, her head…her head.

This time Brenda's gasp is one of pain, not pleasure.

A swirl of dizziness overwhelms her. She reaches out, resting a steadying hand on Dylan's forearm.

He breaks the kiss, drawing back. "Your head?" he asks, grazing fingertips against her temple, and Brenda marvels how well he knows her.

"Yeah," she admits, surprised by how fast the migraine's snuck up on her. Who can blame her, though? She eyes the man across from her. She had other things on her mind. Other things like Dylan.

In an instant, he's hopping off the bed, the soft pad of his footsteps headed to the bathroom. When he returns, he helps Brenda sit up and hands over her medication and a glass of water. Brenda relaxes into the pillow. "Thanks."

She palms a pill and swallows it down with a grimace. She hates these migraines, hates these miserable callbacks to her old life with Vince, her past a constant nipping at her heels no matter how fast she tries to run.

"There." Brenda gives Dylan back the glass. "That should do it."

She smiles, strained. "I'm sorry. I forgot to take it. Old habits." Dylan fixes her with a stern look that she's come to learn means business. "Nothing to be sorry about," he says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In one smooth movement, Dylan gets up and crosses to his side of the bed. Brenda has to hide a chuckle as he slides beside her, his face pained as he adjusts himself.

She sighs in contentment as he takes her in his arms once again, aligning his long body to hers.

When he pulls back to look at her, she sees nothing but undying love in his eyes. Full-throttle lust. "Damn it, woman." He's grinning. "You turn me on."

She matches his grin. "I saw that. Good to know I haven't lost my touch."

"Nine months gone isn't going chase you away from my mind." He kisses her, soft and sweet. "I've been an idiot, Brenda. I should've told you how I felt. I didn't think how it would come across."

"It's not all your fault," she says, giving him a shamefaced smile. "I overheard you on the bus, saying 'I love you' to someone on a phone call…"

Dylan's brow creases in a puzzled frown. Brenda continues. "And I thought…I thought the wrong thing."

For a minute, his face is thoughtful as he thinks on it. Then, his eyes widening in realization, Dylan lets out a light breath of a laugh. "Shit. That was Iris. My mom. She wanted to see you and I was telling her to stay away."

He traces a finger across her cheekbone, pain filling his dark eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you, or go too fast. It kills me that you thought I stopped loving you."

Her stomach curling with warmth, Brenda maps Dylan's face in her hands. Feels the jump of his smooth jaw between her palms. Everything about this is new. His touch like velvet. His smell like aftershave and soap.

As she stares into Dylan's warm eyes, Brenda's hit by a wave of sadness. "I wish I could remember you," she says softly.

She feels bad she can't—Dylan doesn't deserve this Brenda and her shitty memory.

"You will." His voice a vow. She stares at him searchingly.

"What if I don't? What if my memory never comes back?"

"You're alive." Dylan tightens his grip. "Whether or not you get your memory back, you'll still be the same stubborn girl I fell in love with. I'll always love you no matter what."

The fierceness in his voice has Brenda feeling faint. It also has her feeling regret. Regret she remembers nothing. Especially this gorgeous man in front of her. Her husband. Who loves her. Who she can't remember.

Brenda looks to the window, refusing to cry. She chokes out a pitiful laugh. "How can you? I don't even know who I am."

"I know who you are." Dylan nudges her chin up to meet her teary gaze. "Brenda I know you better than anyone. You are beautiful. And you are brave. You're the strongest person I've ever met. And you're going get through this."

He brushes his lips against hers. "You know you have me. You got Steve, Erica, Brandon, David and Valerie too, if you want her."

Brenda laughs breathlessly. Then she grips his hand. Leans in close. "I want you, Dylan."

She needs him to know that. Because he loves her, because while she's not there yet, she will be.

He exhales a slow breath. "Brenda, I'm yours. You don't ever have to worry about that." His eyes dark with desire, Dylan clutches Brenda to his chest, his heartbeat pounding out a steady melody.

He dips his head to kiss her softly on her temple. "You're my road, Bren. The only one I ever want to walk."

His words send a shiver of happiness down Brenda's spine, closing the book on any of her doubts.

Shutting her eyes, Brenda melts into the cradle of Dylan's arms, loving the way they fit together. Like linked pieces. Her so small, Dylan so strong and protective and safe.

A force of a man. Her refuge. His lean, muscular body. His tan hands. His voice, mellow and soft, sexy as all hell.

"Tell me I'll remember," she says, her voice muffled against his broad chest.

"You'll remember." Dylan's breath tickles her hair. "Go to sleep, Bren."

Despite the drowsiness lapping over her, she nuzzles his neck, kisses the hollow on his throat. "Mmm, don't want to."

"Easy, baby." There's a smile in his voice as he presses a kiss against the top of her head. "We've got nothing but time."

Time. That's right. Safe and sound in Dylan's arms, Brenda reminds herself she won't get hurt here. The past is behind her. All of Vince's lies and terror, nothing but dust.

Tonight is a new beginning. On her way to being found. Being Brenda McKay. All she wants is this.

The future. Her future with Dylan. It's everything. Nothing can take that from her.

Nothing.

Ok so there you have it. The reason for the crash, the picture, Kelly, the person he said I love you too on the bus. Next up, The next morning, Brenda sees a shrink and she remembers pieces of something. Hit review my friends. Let's do this!