Bree didn't budge even when Lynette eventually took the first tentative steps inside the bedroom; only her eyelids did flutter briefly as her eyes moved for a moment towards the source of the noise.
She could just ignore her, like she was ignoring everything else, and live in the makeshift shelter of her mind until she worked out a way to fix things.
She was good at that.
Fixing things.
Ignoring things, too.
Speaking, or the simple gesture of meeting Lynette's gaze meant much more than acknowledging her presence.
It meant accepting the full weight of the emotional burden that she was carrying.
It meant also snapping back to a world where she wasn't enough for her husband; where her conception of trust, love and respect had been unceremoniously stepped upon and crumbled like a castle of cards.
Perfect wasn't an option anymore for Bree.
She didn't speak, but looked up into her friend's concerned eyes.
"Hey." Lynette's voice was soft, and her hand on her shoulder was warm.
The world didn't end. But the tenderness in her
friend's attitude made the last remnants of her strength fade into
nothing.
She cupped her face in her hands, and her body shook with
a dry sob.
Lynette bent over and ran a hand through Bree's damp
hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.
She smelled of
chamomile shampoo and soap.
"No one cares." Not Rex, not
her kids. No matter how hard she tried.
She felt soft lips pressed
against the top of head.
"I do."
The lips had moved to her temple.
"Now come on, let's do something about your hair before you get a cold."
Bree hesitated for a moment. And then took Lynette's outstretched hand.