The car came to a slow stop in front of C/B. Rachel shut it off and turned to her friend.
"You good?" There was another moment when it was just a straight, serious, concerned question from the red head.
"For one of the first times today, yeah. I'm safe here, you know?" Brooke looked up at the shop with endearing eyes. "This is all mine, and my mom can't touch it, no one can. I did it entirely myself."
"It feels good to have something like that, doesn't it?" Rachel followed Brooke's gaze.
Suddenly, Brooke turned to Rachel. "You know what? You're right."
"I know," Rachel murmured, not looking at Brooke but nodding and keeping her eyes on the store. "Right about what?"
"I am too serious now, and I don't want to be. I just wanna lay back, and not worry about the consequences for once; screw Lucas!"
"Mm-hmm," Rachel agreed, staring distractedly out the window at nothing in particular All of a sudden, she jolted up. "Wait, what? No! No, no, no! That was not the point of me waking up at eight am! As much as I'm for screwing people, I meant take chances, throw yourself out there, not ditch the guy you're meant to be with! Your heart'll be fine, you made the shot."
"Thanks, Rachel." But the red-head could still sense reluctance in Brooke. "But, we need to finally talk a bit about you. You're staying in Tree Hill for good, right?" Brooke asked concernedly.
"Yeah, I'm not really in the mood to steal your cash again, so I'm grounded here." Rachel shrugged noncommittally with a smile. Brooke smiled as well and shook her head at her friend's eternal sarcasm.
"Well, then, I don't suppose you'd like a job, Miss Gatina?"
"Brooke, really?"
"Of course! You need a job; I need someone to kick back with at work, so it all works out! And, as Millicent will be spending more time with Mouth, I need a mannequin to fit clothes on after hours. God knows Milli gets tired of it."
"A mannequin? Like a dummy?"
Brooke smiled dryly. "Yup. You'd fit nicely." She gave a fake sneer. Rachel returned it. "Well, I guess I gotta go now since I haven't been in all day. I just gotta work out some more designs; I haven't had any inspiration at all lately." She climbed out of the big SUV and walked up the steps to the boutique.
"Hey, B. Davis," Rachel called, and Brooke turned back around. "It'll all be fine." Rachel nodded at her, and Brooke smiled. With a small wave, Rachel's car pulled away from the curb, and Brooke went inside.
Peyton's car screamed down the highway, but Peyton heard nothing. Inside her head, those four little words echoed around her mind, blocking out all other sound. "It's never too late, Peyton". It wasn't too late too go back physically, and it wasn't too late to go back emotionally. Most of all, it wasn't too late for Lucas.
Then, there was the matter of Brooke. She'd get what was coming to her, and Peyton would be the one to give it. Brooke had gone after Lucas when she knew Peyton's feelings, and Peyton also had the suspicion that Brooke was the reason that had Lucas broken up with her that day in TRIC.
She was on her way home. The meadow had opened her mind, the breeze brought back memories. "It's never too late, Peyton." Ellie had taught her how to really live life, and hiding or running from her problems wasn't living. She knew, somewhere deep down, that she needed to get back. She needed to return to that empty town of broken memories and dreams and set things right for herself. Her car sped down the highway, urged forward by the wind. Rush, rush, rush, it seemed to be saying. It was as if Lucas was slipping away the longer she was gone, and she had to get back to keep him. A tear slipped from her eye.
Lucas's phone blared from the nightstand, vibrating and ringing loudly at the same time. He jolted from his doze on his bed, hastening to silence it before it woke his sister, who was napping next to him with her head buried in the crook of his neck.
Since Karen and Andy had come back from traveling, they had been staying with Lucas at home. But, Lucas knew that his mom was itching to start traveling again, and he wondered how much longer they would stay.
"Hello?" he whispered.
"Hey, Luke it's me," came Nathan's voice, "What's up?"
Lucas carefully slid away from Lily before answering. His little sister seemed so angelic, so sweet, so innocent with her brown locks spilling over the pillow and her small chest rising and falling. He took a moment to look at her with endearing eyes before turning his attention back to the phone.
"Didn't I talk to you like, two hours ago?" he asked, walking into the living room.
"Yeah, but we didn't get a chance to talk about what I really wanted to discuss, and since Haley isn't here right now…"
"Brooke?" Lucas guessed.
"Brooke," Nathan confirmed.
"Of course. I just don't feel I need to explain myself," Luke sighed. But he knew that this was a delicate situation, one that nobody would understand but himself.
And Lucas wasn't even sure he understood the reason behind all of this.
"I know, man, and I believe you, and I'll support you whatever. But I just wanna know what's going on for Hales…"
"Yeah, I know."
Nathan heard the sigh, and thought about how hard this must be for his brother. Ever since Lucas joined the basketball team in junior year, he had been thrown into a mess of relationships and breakups and drama, stuff that kept going on for years afterward. Nathan felt a twinge of sympathy, but still admired Lucas for putting up with it all.
It was a confusing mess of love triangles and rectangles, and one that Nathan had intimately watched for the past few years, without getting too involved. His curiosity about all of it finally got the best of him in this moment, and he couldn't help but ask, "What about Peyton?"
Nathan envisioned Lucas rolling his eyes and grinning ruefully; Luke had been expecting something like this. "Peyton is just—Peyton, you know? For so long, I thought we were going to be something. And then, we were, and we fit. We matched. We were like one mind, we could communicate on another level, it was just… easy."
Nathan snorted. "So, what was the problem? You two were perfect."
"That's just it. We were perfect. It was too easy. Monotonous. The same, expected. It was easy to be with Peyton, it didn't take work."
"Again, what was the problem?"
"Nothing! It was great! But, Brooke—"
"She was like a fireworks display, wasn't she? Loud, powerful, blinding, insane."
"Exactly!" Lucas exclaimed, glad that someone finally understood what he had been trying to put words to. "Just like a fireworks display… rolling booms of thunder, explosions of light, the oohs and ahhs of the crowd… and then, the side that no one really pays attention to: the fading colors, when all that's left is the glimmer against the night sky, and the negative of the image whenever you close your eyes, the calm after the storm… that's Brooke."
For a moment, Nathan didn't say anything. "That was pretty poetic, Luke."
Lcuas laughed humorlessly. "I think I've used more analogies in the past week than I have in my entire life. But seriously, Nate, I'm a writer, and I can't even put words to it; that was the best I could do. I just… crave that. I need that chaos and difficulty and life that she brings."
"What about that book, the one with the comet and the scientist? Peyton's car is a comet—"
"Nathan, you've known me for what, seven years now? Don't you think that I would write about something a bit more meaningful than a car?" On this, Lucas sounded confident; he had reiterated this point a thousand times.
"Yeah, Luke, I do know you. Now, maybe you didn't right that book about someone, but when Peyton came back to Tree Hill, that's when you started writing again. Explain that to me," Nathan said firmly.
"Well, first off, Brooke came back that same time as well, in case you forget. No one seems to remember that," he said, almost to himself, "But that's beside the point. I don't know for sure what exactly triggered me writing again. However, I have an idea about it. About four moths ago, Lindsey walked into my room with a picture. It was all of us when we won the college championship. That was an amazing night," he sighed, remembering, "I talked to Whitey, on the bus, and he helped me decide what I wanted to do. I was in LA the next morning, ready to propose to Peyton. And she turned me down."
"Look, I'm sorry about that—"
Lucas continued, unperturbed by the interruption. "I was lost. Numb. Cold. Meaningless. It was as if I crashed after a high; I withdrew from myself on that plane ride to New York.
"And then, there was Brooke, in the bar. We spent the entire night having fun and getting drunk and getting free stuff, pretending we were married. She took me back to the hotel, and she told me to go out there and be the best writer I can be. She gave me a direction that night, and I didn't see her again until she turned up in Tree Hill. My point is, Lindsey reminded me of that night, and that's when I started writing again," he said with finality.
And then, Nathan said something that surprised Lucas the most: "Ok, I believe you." Nathan had been the first person to hear Lucas out, not ask any questions not offer any advice, just support him in whatever way he needed. Lucas told Nathan this, and thanked him for it.
"Hey, that's what little brother's are for, right? Look, I just want you to be happy, Luke. And I know you will be with Brooke; there's a certain— tenderness— in your voice when you talk about her. I have the same thing with Haley."
Lucas nodded. "Thanks, Nate."
"Hey, I'll help however. I'm here for you, Lucas."
"Well, look who it is! My favorite tutor—well, teacher now— and her "innocent" tutor son!" Brooke put air quotes around innocent before giving them both hugs. Haley and Jamie had just walked into C/B, and Jamie had a small backpack on. It was late in the afternoon, and the store was empty. Brooke was glad for the company.
"Look who it is! The friend I hired as a babysitter but haven't seen since I got back!" Haley countered good-naturedly.
"Look who it is," Jamie joined in, "Brooke!" He put little air quotes around 'Brooke'.
"Hey, bud, I don't think you've got it quite yet," Haley laughed, walking with Brooke over to the couches.
"Haha. It's good to see you, Haley. Tell me about London!" The two sat down, and Jamie stood in front of Brooke, looking somewhat expectantly at his mother.
"Ok—" Haley started, but then she caught her sons eye "—but first, I think Jamie has some stuff he wants to show you. Why don't you go get it, Jame?" Jamie nodded and ran off to his bag, which he had left near the counter.
"So, how was London?" Brooke urged again.
"It was perfect. I owe you so much for that idea and for taking care of everything while we were away. Was Jamie good for you?"
Brooke assured Haley with a wave of her hand. "Oh, he was fine, don't worry about it," Brooke laughed, looking at the four year old, who was currently drawing a picture. "So," Brooke started casually, not looking Haley in the eye, "Did it… rain a lot?" She bit her tongue to keep from laughing.
"Yes," Haley said discreetly, looking both pleased and embarrassed and trying not to laugh as well. "It was the best honeymoon we never had."
"Oh, very—" Then Jamie interrupted them by handing Brooke a picture. "—nice." Brooke's face fell when she looked at it and she gave a sad sort of laugh.
"What is it?" Haley asked, leaning over to look. She had a pretty good idea of what it was, but she still wanted to see.
In big red letters at the top, Jamie had written, "Aunty Brooke loves Uncle Lucas" Below it was a picture of two figures hugging. Next to them was a box with a bunch of envelopes in it. Jamie immediately sat down to draw another picture. Through Brooke's forced laugh, Haley tried to read her face.
"Jamie, was this what you were drawing while I was babysitting you?"
"Aunt Brooke, I'm not a baby. I'm four. Yes, I drew this for you. Here's another one!"
He held up another picture. Brooke took it, looking at another image of her and Lucas.
Haley saw the sad, longing smile on Brooke's face and realized that the girl needed some time alone. "Well, is there anything you need, Brooke?" Haley asked, standing up. She pretended to ignore that it was of Lucas, and simply skimmed over the fact. She didn't want Brooke knowing, not yet, that she was behind the whole idea of Lucas coming over. Even if Lucas did know. "We're just going to get out of here." Brooke nodded, and Haley went to corral Jamie from the back, where he was playing with foam peanuts.
After a quick goodbye, Haley and Jamie went out the front door. But before she managed to put Jamie in the car, he wriggled out of her arms.
He stopped before the steps of the shop, looking at a small brown package on the steps below him. Brooke had been so preoccupied when she had come in, she had missed it. She watched Jamie pick it up and run inside.
"Here, Brooke!"
"Jamie—"
"It says your name on it!"
And so it did. The package wasn't shipped; most likely it had been dropped there by someone, a passerby. Brooke could see that it had wrapped by rough hands, hands that were unused to this sort of thing, but stilll cared enough to try. Brooke's name was scrawled untidily across the front.
It was small and rectangular, but thicker and heavier than it appeared. With tender hands (highly unusual for Brooke) she opened it. A small, brightly gift-wrapped package tumbled down from the paper, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Brooke bent down carefully and picked it up gently.
"Jamie!" Haley's call cut through the moment, and Brooke looked up to see Haley holding the door open for her son. "Well, thanks again Brooke, for watching him," she said, waving good-bye. "Just call if you need anything. Oh, and tell me what's in the package later!"
As she drove away, Haley had a pretty good idea of what the package was and she knew who sent it, but she didn't bother to tell Brooke. She didn't feel the need to. It would explain itself shortly. Haley grinned, looking in the rearview mirror and wishing she could see Brooke's reaction.
Back at the shop, Brooke resumed fingered the package deftly. Then, unable to wait any longer, she tore the wrapping off.
It was a book. There was no lettering on the cover, no pictures; it was just a simple, black, small book. Brooke was surprised. While she did read, when people thought of Brooke Davis, 'reader' didn't exactly come to mind.
There was no card that accompanied the book, no indication of any sort, save for a small, nagging suspicion in the back of her head that Brooke quickly snuffed out.
Curious as to who could have sent it, Brooke flipped to the first page and saw the short, handwritten dedication. It was written in the same hand as the package lettering, and certainly made things change.
To my Comet