A/N: Hi everyone, here's the update! Wow I took a lot longer than I expected, so I apologize for that. :( Anyways, this chapter is basically the day after the party, you'll see.
Alright, well, enjoy, review,all that good stuff that makes me write better. And, if you happen to read this AFTER the eppy tonight, leave a comment about that if you want. I'm totally loving the Dark Brooke right now, I think it'll be great to show off Sophia's talents. I just hope Brooke doesn't go psychotic and stay like this forever. I miss bubbly Brooke! Lol, and Lucas has the perfect oppurtunity to save her, so I hope he does.
Ok, 'nuff of that, read, review, and enjoy!
The second she opened her eyes and saw morning streaming through the window, the pain hit. Rachel rolled over in her empty king sized bed, burying her head in the pillow in an attempt to block the light out. Her head pounded each time blood pumped through her temples, and she could feel the pressure. She moved her thick, dusty carpet of a tongue, trying to swallow, but it was as if someone had dragged a metal rake over the soft flesh of her throat. Rachel's moan of pain came out as more of a dry cough. She rolled over again at the futility.
She decided to sleep it off, keep her head under the pillows and wait until her body would allow her to get up and get herself a glass of water to soothe her mouth and throat. It was just like another New York party; out until two A.M, drunk, then wake up in the morning to an empty apartment. Just like all the other times, she would let cool sleep overtake her to regain her strength, as no one else could take care of her.
There was no passage of time in this state. Rachel glanced over, away from the light, to see what time it was, and it was then that she noticed the glass of ice water on her nightstand. How strange.
Rachel stared at it for a second, and watched a drop of cool condensation roll down the side.
"You're supposed to drink it."
The masculine voice drifted from the doorway, and Rachel sat up quickly, drawing the covers around herself. She turned to see Mouth leaning against the doorframe, watching her with his hands in his pockets.
"Mouth," she greeted, confused, "What are you doing here?"
"Getting you water that you won't drink, apparently," Mouth said, glancing for a second to the table. His voice sounded hollow and betrayed no emotion. "Skills told me to make sure you're ok."
"How'd you get in?" Rachel sincerely hoped she hadn't left the door open last night.
"Skills again." Mouth held up a room card. "He had a feeling you would need taking care of today, so he grabbed it." Rachel had been staying in a long term motel.
"Well, tell him I said thank you."
All this small talk felt fake. Rachel desperately wanted to make amends for what had happened the other day, but she didn't know how. This wasn't exactly her area of expertise: she was more of a no strings attached girl. She had never been in a situation like this. She took a sip of the water to occupy herself.
His quietly caring eyes watched her for another moment or so in the silence. When she didn't say anything, Mouth straightened up.
"Well, I guess I should go now."
"No, Mouth, wait—" The words started spilling out before she could stop them. Regardless of whether or not she knew what she was going to say, Rachel had to say something. Mouth turned back from the living room of her suite. His face was blank, like this was nothing to him. Like she was nothing to him. Which, she reminded herself, was probably true.
"Are you going to be ok?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Then I really don't want to talk. Call the apartment if you need anything."
Mouth's eyes grew more distant as he left without a nod or smile or wave of farewell. Rachel held up a half extended hand, as if she was going to pull him back with some invisible cord. She dropped it to the covers when she heard the door slam. He was gone again.
His eyes cracked open, surprisingly, to silence. Nathan looked around, expecting Jamie to jump on him at any moment.
But all he saw was Haley, propped up on one elbow, watching him. "It's about time you woke up," she said softly. Nathan smiled and looked over to see sunlight already pouring over their bed from the window. "You can never get up in the morning," she teased.
"Hey, whatever time I wake up is the beginning of the day," he retorted quickly, giving her that cocky half smile. She returned it. "So the party was pretty good, huh?"
"Yeah, except this handsome guy played a pretty low trick on me."
Nathan sat up. "Really? I'll have to see him about that. I'll make sure he won't do it again."
"Mmm. My hero." Haley shifted and squirmed into his arms, curling against his chest. "What are you going to do today?"
"I was planning on going to see Q, we'll shoot around a bit."
Haley raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Is Nathan Scott thinking about a return to the world of basketball?"
"I don't know about that, but we've been getting serious—"
"I want to start recording again," Haley suddenly blurted out.
"What?" asked Nathan, surprised but pleased. His eyebrows went up; this had really come out of nowhere. "Haley, that's great."
"Actually never mind, scratch that. Stray thought," she assured him hastily, confusing her husband even more; she could feel it in the way his body suddenly stiffened. Knowing Nathan was going to ask why, she continued, "Because I can't." It came out in a whisper. "What if my voice is horrible, and I can never sing again? Or what if Chris comes back, or what if Peyton doesn't have enough studio time, or what if she doesn't want to record with a has-been like me, or what if I am really good and I have to go on tour, and what if the same thing happens? Or what if—"
Nathan suddenly smiled at her. "Seven."
Haley stopped her rant mid sentence. "Huh?"
"You said what if seven times."
"I—Oh." It was obvious Haley had given a lot of thought to this all. Worried about it.
He laughed then, a deep timbre sound that sent shivers up and down Haley's spine and filled the sweet silence of the room. "You want to record, so record," urged Nathan. "Haley, you're voice is amazing. People should hear it. Keller won't come back, and if he does, we'll hook him up with Carrie for all I care. And I'm sure Peyton would love to record with you, so much so that she'll clear the studio until it's done. And when you go on tour, we'll be there, backstage, me and Jamie, waiting for you. Every night."
She seemed to glow at his confidence, and Haley's worried face broke into a wide smile. Jamie came in right as their lips met.
"Eww! Chester and me thought you would never wake up!" he complained, carrying the rabbit in. "You guys have been sleeping forever!"
Haley shrugged, arching one eyebrow as she broke reluctantly away from Nathan. "It could be worse. We could be Brooke right now."
"Uuuhnhnhnh, Luke!" Brooke moaned from beneath the pillow that she had pressed over her face. "Why the hell did I buy the bar? Why?"
Lucas leaned against the doorframe of his room, calmly watching his girlfriend fight the after-effects of the night before. "Because of your idiosyncratic party methods and your magnetism to such ostentatious things?" he offered, his voice teasingly light and refined. Lucas was truly, thoroughly entertained.
Brooke pulled the pillow off of her face for a second to glare at him. "Shut up." Lucas could imagine her grimace as he started to laugh. "Ugh, Lucas, if I ever drink that much again, throw me in a pool," she said, her voice muffled once more.
"No problem. I just have to up my life insurance beforehand, ok?"
"Deal."
Lucas decided it was time to wave the white flag. In an effort to draw her out from under the pillows, he announced, "Ok, peace offering, pretty girl: breakfast is in the kitchen."
"We're not at war."
Pushing off from the wall, Lucas grinned and looked her up and down as Brooke laid simmering on his bed. "Coulda fooled me."
After a few minutes, Brooke seemed finally able to sit up. Lucas brought in the frozen waffles he had cooked earlier, as well as three water bottles that he had slipped into the freezer last night before he and Brooke tumbled into bed. He set the plate in her lap and sat down.
"So where's Karen and Andy?" asked Brooke as she drowned her plate in syrup. She seemed to be feelings slightly better.
"They went out to breakfast together," Lucas said casually.
She turned to him with a curious expression. "What's going on with them? Are they together?"
"No, why?"
"Because he misses her, and wants to be there for her right now. Closer than he is already," she said bluntly, but Lucas couldn't have been more surprised. She popped a piece of waffle into her mouth as if her revelation was the most natural thing in the world.
"What? Did you talk to him?" Lucas's eyebrows knitted together.
"I can see it," Brooke said slowly, past the food in her mouth. She swallowed. "I understand it. The way he wants to be with her. But he can't. He loves her, but he's not blind to what happened when he was in New Zealand, when Karen was with Keith. Ever since he came back, he doesn't know where he stands with your mom anymore, romantically or not. He knows he can't possibly fill Keith's shoes, or he believes he can't. Andy is just waiting for a sign from her, waiting for her to make the first move so that… so that his heart isn't threatened. Because he knows what it'll do to him if she doesn't feel the same way; he's felt the heartbreak before."
The urgent feeling that had initially flooded his system faded now; Lucas thought more about what Brooke had revealed. It made sense, in a way, regardless to his mixed feelings about it. "How'd you know all this?
She shrugged, a simple gesture for a complex idea. "I can just see it. It's in his eyes, what he wants."
"Can you tell what I'm thinking then?" he asked casually.
Brooke sat up and placed one hand behind his neck, but instead of pulling him to her lips, as she usually would have done, she pulled his entire body down to the mattress. She snuggled into his arms, back against his chest, and looked over her shoulder at Lucas. "Did I guess right?"
"Well, it's not what I was thinking, but you get points for what I'm thinking now." He wrapped his arms around Brooke and grazed his lips over her neck.
"This is nice," she said presently, softly. Lucas nodded into her skin.
"Does it feel right to you?" he asked her, inhaling the scent from her hair. Damn, even hungover and tired she still manages to smell like a goddess, he thought.
"It does," she agreed.
There was a loud knock at the door from outside.
A flicker of annoyance flashed over Brooke's face as they both opened their eyes. She groaned.
"Ugh, you have the worst timing in the world, Luke! Can't we just leave it?" Brooke pleaded, groaning, but even as the words came out of her mouth the knock came again. Reluctantly, she relinquished her hold on his body. Reality came back, reality that there was a world outside the warm refuge of Lucas's room.
"Why am I not surprised that we get interrupted again?" Lucas thought halfheartedly aloud as he crossed the room, "I just needed another second or—" The door swung open. "Dan."
The devil of Lucas's personal hell stood in the doorway; a dark, hulking figure that starkly contrasted with the bright, angelic little girl that was standing next to him. He was holding her hand. Dan had that derisive look for half a second when Lucas' first opened the door, then his face cracked a wide grin that made Lucas wary, and they both looked down at Lily. She wore an uneasy look, not scared, but like she could sense the tension in the air and the hostility rolling off her older brother.
Behind him, Lucas heard Brooke's quiet intake of breath, and the rustle of the sheets as she sat up in bed, but she said nothing. The air seemed to thicken with seriousness.
"You know, you shouldn't leave her outside by herself, Lucas," Dan said, "Anyone could've grabbed her. Just be thankful I happened to drive by."
"Oh, yeah, I'm real thankful for that," Lucas snarled sarcastically. Dan just had that affect on him. "Lily, come inside."
After looking up at Dan, Lily slipped her hand out of his. "Go see Brooke, ok?" Lucas said. Looking back at Dan, Lucas's arms crossed over his chest and he unconsciously planted his feet slightly apart to fill the doorway, protecting his girls from Dan.
"I just want to get to know her, Lucas, just like with Jamie," Dan said with a shrug, getting right to the point for once. "She's my niece, and he's my grandson. They should make the choice whether or not they want to see me."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "I am so tired of this soap opera drama crap! Dan, the only choice Lily should have to make right now is what candy to buy at the store, or what to do at school. And she won't ever have the opportunity to know you, just like Jamie. They aren't related to you, not even close." Lucas nodded down the stairs. "So get the hell outta my house."
"I—"
"Dan, I think you should leave now," Brooke said, surprising both the men at the door, who seemed to have forgotten her. Brooke had pulled Lily up into her lap, and had one arm around the girl. Even in a picture like that, she still managed to look and sound serious enough. But Dan merely leaned around Lucas to see the brunette.
"Ms. Davis." He nodded in greeting. He looked back to Lucas. "So you're sleeping with her now? Let me ask you, is it just for the sex, or did Peyton turn you down again and you needed a rebound?"
Lucas took one composing breath, focusing on is hand that was gripping the doorframe. When he finally looked back at Dan, he articulated carefully and clearly. "I'm going to give you five seconds to get the hell out of my sight."
"Alright, alright," Dan finally surrendered, holding up his hands in a shrug and trotting back down the steps. "I'm going." When he hit the grass, he turned back just once more and waved. "Bye, Lily. And you too Ms. Davis, I'll see you later." His face cracked into a cocky smirk.
He was five yards away from the steps when Lucas tackled him, hard. They fell to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs; Lucas had the advantage, but instead of punching Dan, as he normally would have done, he grabbed his biological father by the collar and leaned in close to his red face. "Don't play mind games with me, Dan," he whispered fiercely, "Stay away from my family, or l swear to god—"
But Brooke was by his side in a matter of seconds: it was as if she had been expecting this. "Luke, Lucas, come on," she urged, pulling at his shirt. Lucas stood up and Brooke put both hands on his chest, turning her back on Dan and pushing Lucas back to the house. All the while, Lucas was panting hard and he kept his eyes on Dan. Fierce, angry blue eyes that spoke volumes. Threats that he wanted to scream into the morning air, but Brooke's cool touch soothed the hurricane waves of fury. "Luke, not now, ok?" Dan was standing up, straightening his jacket, and for the first time that morning he seemed to have lost his detached façade and displayed some emotion, looked incensed.
His eyes flew back and forth between Lucas and Brooke, looking like a cornered animal preparing to fight its way out. His chest heaved, but before Lucas could take a threatening step forward, Dan composed himself. "You'll regret that, son." Even with the most cliché of all sayings, Dan managed to put a good amount of subtle danger into each word. Lucas's face remained unaffected. His clenched fists slowly relaxed as Dan climbed into his SUV and tore off down the street without so much as a second glance.
"Luke, why don't you like Uncle Dan?"
Lily sat with Lucas on the couch, curled onto his chest, both waiting for Brooke to finish getting ready and come out. Even though Dan was gone and Lucas's hurricane waves of anger had subsided to gentle ripples on calm water, he still kept Lily close to him, protecting her. They were mindlessly channel surfing, the kind of silent activity that is just enough distraction to allow one's mind to wander freely.
Lucas was brooding quietly when Lily asked him the question. He looked at her blankly as he considered what to say.
"Your Uncle is a bad person," Lucas decided, "Who has done a lot of bad things. If you ever see him again, come right inside and tell me or Andy, ok?" Lily nodded, and Lucas thanked some higher being for this four year-olds innocence. He couldn't bear to tell her about her father, Keith. But before they could fall back into their silence again, she asked another question.
"Why did Uncle Dan talk about Peyton?"
He had to smile at that one. "Because Peyton is Brooke's best friend, but neither of them know that right now. Brooke just hasn't seen Peyton for a while, and Dan was trying to be mean." He thought he heard a noise behind his bedroom door, but there was nothing.
Lily continued. "Oh. Do you love Aunty Brooke?"
"Of course I do," Lucas said, shifting her tiny body so that he could see her face better. He half-smiled at the mention of Brooke, and at Lily's question.
"Does she know that?" Lily's mature brown eyes, Keith's eyes, were very serious.
"Yeah, I think she does."
"Does she love you back?"
Lucas looked down, smiling. "I sure hope so, Lily. I don't know what I would do with myself if she didn't."
"Then you should tell her. Tell her that you love her, so that she'll love you back!" Lily exclaimed, smiling innocently. "You have to make sure that she loves you."
Brooke came out of the door at that moment, smiling and putting the finishing touches on her hair. The two on the couch looked up in the same moment.
"Hi, Brooke!" Lily said.
"Hey, Lily, what's up?"
Lucas watched them banter back and forth, smiling. But he was surprised a moment later when Brooke turned to him, looking guilty.
"Lucas, I have to go somewhere," she said.
"Ok, where?"
She bit her lip. "I… I can't tell you, or you'd insist on going with me." She gave him an apologetic look.
"Are you coming back?" asked Lucas. Brooke gave him a cavalier smile, not looking quite so repentant as a second ago.
"Maybe. I'll have to ask my other boyfriends if it's ok. But don't worry Broody, they're non-exclusive." She winked.
"But I'm the best kisser, right?" Lucas teased. "That's why you spend the nights with me." Brooke rolled her eyes and groaned as she walked away down the hall. Lucas's cocky laughter followed her, and she had to conceal a smile. "See you soon, pretty girl."
He looked back down at Lily. "Well, it seems we are alone again. What do you want to watch?"
"Lucas, what's sex? Like Uncle Dan was talking about?"
Uh-oh. Too much innocence.
Peyton had been in the car now for 45 minutes, trying to make the 20 minute drive to the airport, but the traffic seemed determined to stop her from reaching her destination. Cars were backed up for over a mile, all jockeying for the exit to the arrival gates. Usually she wouldn't have minded such a situation; stop and go driving was the perfect time to kick back and listen to a new CD in complete solitude. Then again, she usually didn't have somewhere to be. The stress was getting to her.
Today was Psycho Ian day. She would've had no problem being late, as long as it was on her terms. As it was now, the longer it took to get to the airport the more opportunity there was for second thoughts. But Peyton was determined to be there to see Ian for what she knew was the last time.
She checked her cell phone impatiently. Mia was supposed to call soon, with some new information on the mystery artist that she had met on her tour in the South. But still, she hadn't called. Maybe he had left, Peyton thought to herself, then shrugged. Whatever.
Popping in a random disc from the mess in her backseat, Peyton leaned back and rolled her eyes as she saw yet another station wagon-family pass her. As the opening bars of Hands Down came on, her eyes scanned over the hundreds of bumper stickers plastered over the back of the car: "Soccer Mom, get out of the way!" "Support our troops," and even, "I'd rather be playing chess."
She just rolled her eyes again and turned up the music.
This song had always been one of her favorites; God, it brought back memories. One in particular stood out, and she supposed it was the reason she loved it so much.
She had been cruising down the road, way too fast for her own good, but she liked to feel the danger. It was another one of those nights, a game night, and Nathan was out somewhere with the team. Even being alone tonight couldn't bring down the mood she was in; they had won, Dashboard Confessional was blaring out of the radio, and she was almost home to relax.
That was when her headlights lit upon the form in the crosswalk, the grey sweatshirt, the basketball, the headphones making him oblivious to her approach. Instinctually, Peyton slammed on the brakes and buried her head in her shoulder, hoping, praying. When she didn't hear any yell, any body hitting the windshield, she tentatively looked up to see the ocean-blue eyes of Lucas Scott, confused under the messy blonde hair. They connected for that brief moment, then Peyton let her shoulders slump and the characteristic glare grace her face. She waved him out of the way angrily.
And that had been the first real look that they had exchanged, even through middle school and half of high school. The first time when she felt some strange stirring within herself.
"So much for love's first look," Peyton said to herself, clicking off the music irritably and turning into the airport. "Stupid song."
Fifteen minutes later, Peyton had finally made it through the endlessly milling crowd waiting in the terminal. Settling herself into a seat that had a good view of the entrance to the tarmac, as well as the tarmac itself, she contented herself with people-watching for a few minutes. She had been trying to see Derek or the plane that would announce his arrival, but there was a huge crowd of people outside, so she gave up and focused on the tiled floor of the airport.
It seemed she had only just sat down when she heard someone walk up and stop directly in front of her. The steps had sounded uneasy, like the person was still unsure if they wanted o be here. Peyton looked up absently, but caught her breath at who she saw.
Debonair and sophisticated in the light summer suit and cocktail in his hand, he seemed utterly out of place in the dim lights of his living room. A man that looked like him should be out on a terrace somewhere, relaxing and enjoying drinks with other people of the upper class, not sitting in a worn armchair with a telephone and phone book. Yet there was something faintly sinister about the whole picture, maybe the underlying hint of danger that human instincts could barely pick up. Anyone would have kept they're distance from this man, whether they know him or not.
But he was alone, and he preferred it this way. Dan Scott picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Hi, this is Dan Scott. I have a little business proposition for one of Tree Hill's most esteemed ex-residents…I understand that you've been let go of a certain Clothes/Bros down here…Oh, come on now, don't sound so bitter. This could be good for you, and it would certainly offer a chance for…retribution… Yeah, I knew you'd be interested… Of course I'll call you Victoria."
"C'mon Nate, you ain't got nothing!" Q said, grinning arrogantly. He gave Nathan a little shove in the back, waiting for Nate to make his move.
Nathan smiled, and before Q even realized what happened, Nathan stepped forward, feinted left, then right, put the ball through Quentin's legs and drove to the basket. The dunk was tossed in mechanically, just a natural move for him that was the pinnacle of athletic prowess. Nathan came down, landing cat-like on the balls of his feet, grinning. He looked back at Q, who was still standing flat-footed at the top of the key. It had all happened in less than two seconds.
"Game. Too fast for you, Q?"
It was near two o'clock now, and the two guys had been playing since ten out on the Rivercourt. Both were shining in sweat, and Nathan was shirtless. "Wanna go another one?" Q put his hands on his knees, challenging.
Nathan grabbed the ball and bent down as well. "Your ball—" Just then his phone blared out from the picnic table. "Hold that thought," he said, jogging over. Usually the only person who called him at this time of day was Haley, unless there was something important that Skills or Luke needed to tell him.
Nathan checked the caller id and put the phone to his ear. "Hi, Hales." In the background, Q started to shoot.
"Damn, she got you on a short leash. You're whipped."
"And what's wrong with that?" Nathan mouthed, smirking, and Q laughed.
But on the phone, Haley's voice was anything but casual. "Nate, the doctor just called. They have an opening, and they want to get Jamie tested now." She didn't need to tell him what for. "Can you meet us down there?" She sounded anxious, but Nathan could tell Haley was trying to keep cool for his sake.
"Yeah, Haley, I'll be right there. Hey, everything will be alright, ok? Promise me you won't freak out?"
"Yeah, yeah," she agreed vaguely, and hung up the phone.
"Sorry, Q, I gotta go," Nathan said, grabbing his bag and keys. He jumped in the car as quickly as possible.
"Hey, what's the matter, is J. Scott alright?"
"I hope so."
The waiting room. What a stupid name. It should be called the 'on the edge of your seat because you are worried for your child's health' room. But Nathan figured that wouldn't fit on the sign.
He paced nervously across the bright carpet, carefully avoiding toy cars as well as the looks from annoyed middle aged women. But he didn't care. The only thought that filled his mind was that his only son was in there right now, taking a test to see whether or not he would be in danger for the rest of his life.
It was about five minutes ago that Nathan had started watching the clock. Where are they? It seemed like Jamie and Haley had been in there forever, like they had gone in hours ago. He went to the receptionists desk and was about to ask her if he could go into the office to find his wife and son when the door opened.
"Hi Daddy, look at my sticker!" Jamie said, skipping out happily, while Haley followed close behind. A surprising amount of stress rolled off Nathan's shoulders at the sight of them both.
"Hey Jimmy-jam, how was it?"
"It was fun. The doctor was funny. What did you do?"
"I—"
"Paced incessantly, short of breath, and nearly had a heart attack," the receptionist said without missing a beat and keeping her eyes level on the computer screen. Haley turned to a betrayed looking Nathan.
"What happened to 'everything will be ok, Haley, I swear'?" she teased. Nathan smiled sarcastically back as they escaped the migraine-inducing room.
"So, what will happen with everything?" Nathan asked Haley as they went into the parking lot. "What did the doctors say?"
Haley shrugged. "Just like earlier: Take the test and they mail the results to you in a couple of days." She had kept up a façade of strength all day, but Nathan knew it wouldn't last. He just had to be there when that wall fell, there to support her. In truth, he could barely support himself right now, knowing that his son, his perfect Jamie, could be followed by the ever-looming threat of HCM wherever he went. Jamie would never be able to play basketball, not even run around in his young years. Nathan tried to put the thought to the back of his mind, where his body wouldn't be able to access it.
He failed.
Looking almost as uncomfortable as Peyton felt, Brooke nervously met Peyton's gaze.
"Hi, Peyt," she said uncertainly, like she didn't feel she deserved to be there.
"What are you doing here?"
Brooke pulled an envelope from her purse, and Peyton was relieved for the break in eye-contact. "I got a letter, from the jail. About Derek, I guess you did too?"
"Yeah." Peyton angled her head around Brooke for another futile search for Derek. Brooke sighed, and Peyton knew what was going to come out of her mouth before she said it.
"Look, Peyton, I know that there is a lot going on right now, between us, with Luke," Peyton wrinkled her nose at the name, but Brooke continued unfazed, "With everything. But that is all outside of this airport. While we're in here, we're going to face Derek, together. We need each other to see him."
A long pause, and then Peyton nodded. "Ok," she said steadily. Brooke smiled at their paper-thin truce, and sat down. With the absence of anger and malice, there was a nothingness between them, a void each was unsure how to fill. Happiness would seem too contrived, and it wasn't the time for apologies.
The intercom came on. "Flight 23 will be delayed, followed by flight 616."
Peyton checked the letter. "That's him. 616."
"If that's the case," Brooke said, standing up, "Then I'm going to get some food. I'll be back before Derek gets here."
With Brooke's absence came those terrible second thoughts, and Peyton froze. It would be so easy to duck out of here now, to not have to see him again. Then he would die, she would ask not to be informed, and she would never see him again. So why was she still here?
"Who are you waiting for?" It was an old woman, her face leathery with age and her voice rough and gravelly. She sat next to Peyton with her head buried in a newspaper. The question came unexpectedly, and Peyton had to think for a moment before answering.
"A ghost from my past," she decided, not wanting to spill her life story to some old bat in an airport.
"Bad memories?" she prompted.
"You… could say that, yeah." Understatement of the year, in fact. "But he's been gone for a while now."
The old woman was silent for a moment. "Could you ever forgive him?"
Peyton shook her head, and she was surprised at how much she was opening up. "No, I don't think I could. He left me scarred, in a way." The old woman nodded in understanding and turned back to her newspaper. Peyton was about to ask her a question when she heard a deep voice from above her.
"Hi, Peyton."
Someone stood there, someone Peyton hadn't thought about in over three years, not since she and Lucas had gotten back together. He had been gone so long, he faded from the forefront of her thoughts. But now he was here, standing, waiting for her. This was the one person she needed right now, the one who could save her.
And Peyton couldn't have been happier.
Cliff hanger! Lol, if you wanna guess, go right ahead.
So the usual: The next part will be up soon, I hope you liked it, leave a review, same old same old :) You know.