Her Head v. Her Heart

A/N: This chapter was never supposed to be in the story, but I felt like it needed to be. Anyway, hope you guys like it. I don't have enough cash to rent these guys for a night, let alone own them, so there's my disclaimer. Also, just thought I'd let you know that Dave is still winning the popular vote in the battle for Trish, but you've still got four chapters to fix it, Chain Gang.

The television lulled Trish to a near-sleeping state as she lounged on the huge bed in Dave's hotel room, one of his girls on each side of her. The youngest was sleeping soundly, her head resting on Trish's thigh, while the older girl leaned against Trish's shoulder, watching some ridiculous count-down show on VH1.

John had been a little jittery at the idea of his girlfriend spending the night in her ex's room, so she had suggested that he take Dave out for drinks after the show. She reasoned that the two old friends hadn't had a lot of time together as of late, thanks to her, and it would be good for them. And, she had promised, she would come right back to his room as soon as their father was back and the girls were soundly sleeping for the night.

As the smaller girl in her lap rolled over and buried her face in Trish's stomach, clutching her toned arm with little hands, she felt an unsettling emotion flood her chest. This is why she had left him. Sure, she told herself it was because he never said he loved her, but she knew it wasn't true, not completely. Maybe he never said it, but he showed it in ways no one had ever shown her love. He gave her everything she ever asked for, and a lot of what she didn't, just because he could. He was there, all the time, no matter what kind of mood she was in. He had shown her unconditional love – he didn't have to say it.

All he wanted in return was this. He wanted a mom for his girls and a wife for himself, and Trish just wasn't ready for it. Even now, she knew she wasn't ready. She could play the cool babysitter for a night, but when it came down to the every day stuff, she didn't want it. She didn't want to cancel a weekend trip to Mexico with her friends because one of his girls had a dance recital or a soccer game. She didn't want to give up R rated movies so they could take the girls to a PG one. And she didn't want to sacrifice great sex because the girls were asleep down the hall.

She knew that it was selfish – that most women her age would give up all of those things in a heartbeat just to know the love of a child, and to savor the mother/daughter relationship that was far more important than any of her petty interests. But Trish knew that she was too self-centered to be any good for them in the long run, and she thought she had done the right thing by getting out before they all got too attached and things became too permanent. Staring at the beautiful, sleeping angel on her leg, she assured herself that she made the right decision. This was not the life she wanted. Not yet.

"Trish?"

The hush of the older girl's voice interrupted her thoughts as Trish leaned her cheek to the top of her dark head to hear better. "What's up, Kiddo?"

"I know about you and my dad," the answer came.

All of the emotions Trish had been feeling previously seemed to ball up and drop to her toes. She wasn't supposed to know. Neither of them was supposed to know. "Yeah?" she asked.

There was a slight nod against her shoulder. "Angie told me yesterday," she said.

"Oh," was all Trish could think to say in response. It wasn't like it was the end of the world – they would have to find out sometime. But, for some reason, Trish felt guilty. Maybe it was the broken tone in the young voice that was toying with her emotions.

"Can I ask you something?" Whether because of sleep or something else, the question came out in a squeaky whisper, completely sincere and open.

"Of course, Sweetie," Trish answered in the same, still whisper.

There was a hesitant silence and then the tiny clearing of a throat. "What did he do? I mean, why did you guys break up?"

Unexpected tears sprang to Trish's eyes as she tried to think of the best way to answer that question. What could she possibly say that a fourteen-year-old would understand. "Well," she sighed and then wiggled her hips a little bit, in an attempt to resituate herself. "First of all, it wasn't anything he did," she started.

"Was it us?" the young brunette asked, her eyes wide as she shifted on the bed until she was facing her father's former lover. Trish's face echoed her shock, because the girl looked down at the sheets and then back. "Because first he divorced my mom, and then Angie, and now you guys break up. And you all say that it wasn't his fault, but the only other people who have been there since the beginning were my sister and me. So if it's not Dad's fault, then it's ours, right?"

She shook her head. Maybe it was true – maybe it was the girls that Trish had been running from, but that wasn't their fault. It wasn't their fault that she hadn't grown up enough to be what they needed. "No, no, no. Listen to me, okay?" Deep brown eyes, just like her dad's, stared back at Trish and she nearly lost her nerve. "What happened with your dad and me? It was complicated and it was all kinda fucked up," she stopped and cringed.

The teenager before her giggled and shook her head. "It's fine. I've said "fucked up" a few times," she assured.

Trish smiled at the innocence of the face looked back at her. All she wanted in that moment was to preserve that innocence, to protect her from anything and everything bad that would ever try to corrupt that smile and those eyes. "But it doesn't change the fact that I think you and your sister are the coolest chicks in the world, okay? It doesn't change the fact that I still love hangin' out with you guys when you come to visit."

There was a long pause and Trish wondered if she had said the right thing. She always found herself second-guessing every word and action when she was with the girls. "Believe me, Trish, I know why you're with John," she finally said. "I mean, he's gorgeous, and he's way cooler than my dad. But I still kinda wish that you were Dad's girlfriend, ya know?"

Trish smiled sympathetically and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "But we can still chill, even if I'm not dating your dad," she winked. "I mean, I won't be your step mom or anything, but I can be your friend, right?" she offered.

The smile that she gave said that she agreed. But then she bit her lip and scrunched her nose a little bit. "So there's no chance that you're gonna get back together with him?" Trish shook her head sadly. "Dammit," the girl sighed, turning around in the bed and leaning against the head board. "So that means John's not gonna be single again any time soon?"

Dave was greeted by the laughter of his daughter and his ex-girlfriend when he returned to his suite at that moment. He'd had a good time with John, avoided the subject of Trish altogether, and remembered exactly why they had been friends to begin with. But upon hearing those joyous sounds from the other room, he felt his heart crashing back into his chest, shattering on impact.

In the car, he had convinced himself that the situation was the way it was supposed to be. John was a good guy, and there was no one else he would trust to keep Trish happy for the rest of her life. He would just have to accept that and move on, maybe take some time to get to know his daughters again. Maybe it was the best time for him to stop worrying about what a horrible boyfriend he had been, and try to remedy what a terrible father he had been since becoming the World Heavyweight Champion.

His schedule had picked up so quickly that it had ruined his marriage before he even had time to realize it was in trouble. And now he had the chance to make up for some lost time with the two young women in the world that he knew still loved him. He had decided, in the taxi, that he was only going to focus on that relationship for awhile. He would just let the other stuff work itself out.

Pushing through the pain that the laughter invoked, he knocked on the bedroom door and waited for an invitation to enter.

It took nearly a full minute for his oldest daughter opened the door with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Dad," she waved slightly, sending Trish into another fit of giggles.

"What's goin' on in here?" he asked, a smile tweaking the corners of his lips. The younger girl would sleep through an earthquake, he was convinced, as he watched her splayed across the rumpled sheets of his bed. Trish sat beside her, surrounded by candy wrappers and an empty pizza box, along with a few pop cans and plastic cups. "Damn!" He looked at his daughter. "Did you guys have a party?"

She wiggled her dark eyebrows at her dad and then turned to walk back to the bed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked.

Trish struggled to stand and then walked to the end of the bed. "And I think that's my cue to leave," she grinned, her foot catching on the corner of the bedspread and sending her forward with a lurch.

Dave didn't think, only moved to catch her. But once she was in his arms, staring up into his eyes, he realized what a mistake it had been. Twenty minutes after swearing off women all together, he could feel himself stiffening. Jesus, he scolded himself, setting Trish's feet on the floor, your kids are in the room, ya pervert. Stop thinking about fucking Trish!

She moved past him and he pointed to the girl on his bed, now wide awake. "Clean this crap up," he ordered. She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told while her father moved into the living room. "Thanks," he said as Trish gathered her purse and headed for the door.

She leaned against the heavy wood and stared up at him, so far up. He was so beautiful. And the way she had felt him react to holding her a minute ago had her own body doing things she didn't want to think about. "It was no problem," she grinned sincerely. "She knows, by the way," Trish nodded toward the bedroom. Dave's eyes clouded, but she held a hand up to stop him. "Angie told her," she informed, before he could go off on her.

With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand over his hair and put the other on his hip. "I was gonna tell 'em, Trish. But I haven't really seen them since the last time you went home with me, and I didn't want to do it over the phone," he rambled.

Pushing off the door, she put a hand on his face and rubbed his cheek with her thumb. "It's okay," she assured him. "But make sure they know none of this was their fault, okay?"

"They know it wasn't their fault," he stated, as though that were the craziest notion he'd ever heard.

But Trish brushed her finger over his lip and then withdrew her hand. "All they know is that they're the only ones who have been there for all three of your heart breaks, Dave. If you don't tell them, they don't know that you don't blame them," she explained. It took everything she had not to tell him to fuckin' talk to someone in his life before he lost all of them.

He didn't answer with words, of course, just an understanding nod. Trish turned for the door handle and then threw one more glance over her shoulder. "Maybe before they go home, we could all do something together?"

She left before he could tell her there wasn't a chance in hell that he was spending any more time with the three of them than he had to. In his reality, those girls in his bed barely spoke to him when he begged them to, and Trish was about to strip naked for one of his best friends. As he unbuttoned his shirt and moved toward the couch, he prayed that sleep would come quickly. In his dreams, Trish was in his arms and his daughters thought he was the coolest dad in the world. That's where he wanted to be at the moment, more than anything.