Seriously, you guys. The response to last chapter? Blew. Me. Away. I was concerned about that last scene. I was concerned about Lucas's reaction. You guys are so amazing.
So I was going to add scenes to this. And I did add two—both BL. But I wanted to make it more than just them. I can't bring myself to do it, though. This needs to be just them. Please, please, don't get used to these very frequent updates. Anyone who read DLA knows that I am not a regular updater. But I just had to post this.
I hope ya'll enjoy. Also, for the record, I don't own the show. Or anything CW related (not sure I'd want to, unless I was getting Paul Wesley or Ian Somerhalder in the process). This song is the property of Hot Chelle Rae. Listen to it. Word.
I feel like I'm drowning in ice water.
My lips have turned a shade of blue.
Brooke's house is looming in the distance. The short walk around the marina doesn't feel like it took nearly long enough. He still wants to just scream out loud.
How could she do this to him? He had a father who abandoned him. He knows inherently what that feels like. He told her that. He sat in front of her that night and he told her that he didn't want to be that guy. His child would never know the pain of being unwanted. Unloved. Discarded.
And she lied to him. She said she wasn't pregnant. That she lied because he hurt her. And he felt sobad about that. He did that to her. He made her feel so bad that she lashed out in a way that he didn't think was possible for her. She lied. He carried that guilt around for years. As of this morning, he still carried it. He wounded her so badly that she would do something so out of character. Brooke may have been a lot of things—but she wasn't a liar. He always blamed himself for pushing her to that.
But now it seems that she lied about lying. If Ethan is ten, she was pregnant during junior year. She gave birth before they started their last year of high school. He's trying to do the math but it's not quite adding up in his tangled thoughts. How did he miss it? She lived in his room for all of that time. How did she hide it from his mom?
There are so many questions but the only one that matters to him is: why?
Why didn't she want their beautiful baby boy? Why did she keep this vital information from him? Why did she keep his son from him? Why would she give a home to Angie or Samantha or some other unwanted kid but not to Ethan?
Ethan, who shares their blood. Ethan, the baby they made. What is wrong with Ethan? Why doesn't she want him?
He wonders if it's based solely on the fact that Ethan has hisblood. If she just didn't want his child. If he hurt her so bad that she couldn't even raise the baby they made together.
He's looked at this every which way and he just can't seem to wrap his head around it. How could she? She came back here, after giving birth to hisson and then giving him away, and put him through hell. And he took everything she dished out because he knew—he knew—he deserved it. He did everything he could; he jumped through burning, fiery hoops, to prove to her that he loved her. He forgave what he thought was her biggest indiscretion against him without a second thought. He fought to keep her while she pushed him away over and over again. And he was so sure that it was entirely his fault. She never once told him about their baby. She never even slipped a tiny clue. She kept this from him. And she didn't seem to even blink at the dishonesty.
Her letters. He has, in the past ten years, read those letters more times than he can count. Now he's going through the few that he knows by heart, in his head. He's trying to figure out if she dropped hints in them. She was so open in them, he thought. They made him believe that he knew her inside and out. That he knew her better than anyone on this planet. That he loved her and she loved him in a way that no one else could touch.
That their love was something that could see them through anything.
But this isn't just anything. This is the worst deception that he has ever faced. Worse than finding out Jimmy didn't shoot Keith and the man he'd just finally been accepted by, as son, did. He's not sure they can make it through this with any love intact. If their friendship will survive this. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's not sure he wants to feel anything for Brooke. Let alone love.
He's on the porch now. The door is a door, just like any others. Except it's red and it's so herthat it hurts him. How could she do this to them?
He's about to find out. If he could just open the door and talk to her like a human. He won't be warm, he tells himself. He's not her friend. He's not her ex-boyfriend. She's not the girl that he's loved for so long that just looking at her could pierce his heart, if the moment is right. He won't cry, even if she does. Especially if she does. And he definitely will not, under any circumstances, comfort her, in any way. He wants answers and an explanation. She will give those to him. If they don't self-destruct, in the end, they'll figure out how they're going to co-parent. And that's it.
Nothing else will happen in there.
Nothing else can.
I'm frozen with this fear.
-x-b-x-l-x-
That you may disappear,
Before I've given you the truth.
She's splashing water on her face when she hears the front door open and close. A quick look in the mirror tells her that the cold water didn't help much in the way of her appearance. She's still all red and splotchy.
Somehow, she doesn't think Lucas will mind. He might not even notice. He might not even look at her.
She digs down deep for the courage to go out and face him. To make him understand without placing blame anywhere but on herself—because that's where it belongs.
The walk into the living room is short and she doesn't find him there. She hears his throat clear from behind her so she turns toward him. He's standing in the kitchen, holding a picture. She knows instinctively the picture that's in his hands is the one of him, her, and baby Angie. She keeps it in the drawer next to the fridge with all of the old pictures that she's taken down.
His eyes are still carefully blank as he slides the picture across the counter that separates them. His voice is quiet and cold as he asks the one question that is going to be the hardest to answer.
"Why?"
She could act like the question is too vague, since it is. There are tons of whys. But she knows what he's asking. "I missed him every day. I wanted a baby to fill the void but I couldn't imagine having one of my own. Especially alone. If he grew up and found out that I did that, what would he have thought of me?"
"As opposed to you taking in someone else's child, when you didn't want your own?" He cuts her off, "He'd probably think that you were a hypocrite. I certainly do."
"Lucas-" she stops him with a hand held up. He has every right to be mad, to hate her. But she can't take that tone of voice from him. It kills her. "Please. Let me talk."
"What are you going to say?" he asks. "I've been over it and over it in my head. You've been lying to me and everyone else for ten years. How do I know that anything you tell me now is the truth? How do I know that there aren't other secrets that you've kept from me? How will I ever look at you without seeing this person I despise looking back?"
"Trust me, Lucas," she says as quietly as he was loud, "I'm not lying about anything anymore. I'll tell you everything if you just give me the chance. As for the other stuff, I don't know how you're going to look at me." She chokes back a sob, thinking of the possibility that he might hate her forever. "I hope we can get past this. That's all I can wish for."
"Just—" Lucas stops whatever it is he's about to say, thinking better of it. He walks around and sits down at the dining room table. Looking up at her, he says, "Maybe you should just start at the beginning."
Taking the seat across from him, she tries to make eye contact but he refuses to look at her. So she does as he asked. She starts at the beginning. "I told you in anger and you questioned whether the baby was even yours." He looks like he wants to interrupt again so she holds up her hand, "My turn. You'll get yours."
When he remains quiet, she continues, "That afternoon, I went home. My mom was there. She was never home, you know that. It was such a fluke. She saw how upset I was and actually listened to me explain myself. Then she asked me the same question you did. How could I be sure it was yours? Was I really that bad, Luke?" It's hypothetical and she wouldn't really want his answer anyway. "I started to think that no one would believe me. And I'd be worse off than your mom even was, if you wanted to deny the baby, because at least everyone knew Dan was scum. And that she was telling the truth. So I told her that it wasn't possible for it to be anyone else's. And she asked me what I was planning on doing. I was scared. I didn't know. Before I could even form a response, she had picked up the phone and made an appointment with her OB/GYN. For an abortion." She whispers the word. She can't believe she ever even thought about it. "Then she acted as if she just did me a huge favor, told me we wouldn't even tell my father, and left me there. Alone. All night long, I thought about it. Would I be a bad mother, like mine? Would my baby feel the consequences of my every poor choice—even if I could stop making awful decisions before it came? I couldn't answer those questions, Lucas. So I decided I would go. And then you showed up. You told me that you thought you would be older, settled, and in love. Remember?"
He nods his head, still showing no emotion. And she continues on, that night coming alive in her memory. She can feel the tears forming, even as she tries to fight it. "You told me that you'd support me, no matter what. But I didn't believe you. I thought you'd hate me more than you already did for even thinking about aborting a child—I thought you'd feel like I was Dan."
"I didn't hate you, Brooke," he tells her. "And I don't even want to think about Dan right now."
She nods, "I thought that I'd just tell you I made it up. You hurt me. I did want to hurt you back—kind of. But I thought an abortion would hurt you more than you deserved. And you already seemed like you were hurting more than I wanted you to be. Part of me was trying to be kind. Save you from knowing that it was even going to happen. Part of me was saving myself from you trying to talk me out of it."
He looks at her for the first time since he came back, steel still in his eyes, "Okay. Even if that's true, you didn't kill him. He's here. How did that happen without me knowing? Why did it?"
"I went to the appointment," she tells him. "If I close my eyes, I can still see it. It was the day after Peyton and I found out about Nikki. That party at the apartment, do you remember that?" Without waiting for an answer, she plows on, "My mom signed the consent forms and then left me there alone to wait for my turn. The nurse kept asking me all kinds of questions. Standard, I thought. Then she asked me if I was sure." She can't keep the tears from falling so she swipes at them violently. Sobbing, she goes on, "I. Wasn't. Sure. I was a kid. I was all alone. I didn't even know for sure what love was. But I. Loved. That. Baby."
Dropping her head to the table, she lets the tears release. She doesn't know how long she stays there but Lucas never once tries to touch her. He doesn't try to comfort her in any way. When she pulls herself up, trying to get her act together, he's watching her with some emotion. Not much, but it's something.
But as soon as they lock eyes, his turn to ice again.
She knows then, that he's never going to forgive her.
I bleed my heart out on this paper for you.
So you can see what I can't say.
I'm dying here.
-x-b-x-l-x-
(I'm dying here)
'Cause I can't say what I want to.
I bleed my heart out just for you.
He will not comfort her. He will not comfort her. He keeps saying it over and over in his head. Everything in him just wants to hold her until all the pain goes away. But he won't. He refuses to give into it. It's a weakness that he can't have.
She's crying because she loved the baby. Because she didn't want to kill him. How sick is that? How sick is he for wanting to fix it for her? To tell her that it's okay?
How messed up is it that his heart is already finding ways in which this was his fault? She's crying because of him. Again. She wanted to get an abortion because he made her doubt him. Over and over. How could he be so dumb?
Instead of giving into the urge to hug her, he asks, "So what happened then? Did you just leave? Is that even legal? What did your bitch of a mother do to you when she found out?"
She looks hurt. He feels ashamed but he can't stop his own pain from talking. He's trying to just stay quiet but it's hard. "I did," she nods. "Mother assumed I went through with it and I didn't tell her any different. Neither did the doctor's office, since it's confidential. I read somewhere that there are states that are safe havens for single mothers. I thought I'd figure out a way to get to one of them before I started showing, give my baby up for adoption and no one would ever find out."
Ah. So she was still planning on deceiving him. She never planned to tell him. If he'd have known that kissing Peyton while he was still with Brooke would have caused all of this, he would have stayed as far as humanly possible away from her. She's not worth it. She never was.
Brooke continues, "Then we were broke. I had no idea how I was going to pay for it. So I never made the plans. I found ways to hide it. And I only gained about five pounds through the first six months of pregnancy."
"Is that even healthy?" he asks. Did Ethan suffer because she watched her weight so closely?
She seems to understand what he's asking. "He was fine. I went to a free clinic for regular checkups. They were concerned about my gaining weight but they said he was healthy. They told me that sometimes young mothers hardly show at all. I hoped and prayed that I was one of those lucky ones. Not because I was afraid to gain weight. Because we were getting close again and I didn't want you to notice. I didn't want you to know I lied. It was selfish, I know. But it wasn't like I was planning on keeping him. So why tell you?"
"Because maybe I would have kept him anyway?" Lucas says, not quite keeping the sarcastic edge out of his voice. "Maybe I'd have stopped falling all over myself trying to get you to see how much you meant to me. Maybe I wouldn't have been such a fool."
He still doesn't know how she kept it from him. He saw her in her pajamas and once, in almost nothing. They hugged constantly. He never felt a difference. Thinking back, he remembers thinking she looked healthier. He thought it was his mom's influence. They'd sit in the kitchen for hours laughing and cooking and baking. He loved how close they were. He remembers the weight. Now that he's thinking about it. He remembers thinking it was a good thing. He remembers likingit.
She scrunches her face up as if she's trying to keep herself under control. As it smoothes back out, she starts talking again, as if he said nothing. "I remember the day I left for California. My parents called and told me that if it was okay with Karen, I could stay in Tree Hill for the summer. I knew I couldn't keep hiding it for much longer. I put on more weight during that last two weeks in Tree Hill than I had the whole pregnancy. I thought you or your mom would notice. So as much as I wanted to stay, I decided that I'd go to California and hope that I gave birth out there. I figured I could give the baby up for adoption and not miss much of my senior year, if any of it. I thought maybe I'd be able to come back and we'd be friends and everything would just be fine. And then you kissed me and my whole world shifted on its axis. I had this sudden urge to stay. To tell you. To keep him. But I forced myself to go anyway. I cried the whole way to the airport, for every second of the flight, and every mile of the thirty minute drive from LAX to my parents' house. People must have thought I was crazy. When I got there, my parents were surprised to see me. I was so broken down, I just told them everything."
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. He can see that she's trying to move past whatever it is that she's feeling.
He knows how that is. He's trying to move past his feelings, too.
Since his feelings are feeling bad for her. And he doesn't want to feel for her. So he decides to feel for the seventeen year old girl that she was. The girl he loved so much.
Because he won't allow himself to feel sorry for the twenty-seven year old who has kept such an all encompassing secret from him for ten years. But that seventeen year old girl was scared and alone.
And he did that to her.
I've always dreamed about this moment.
And now it's here and I've turned to stone.
-x-b-x-l-x-
I stand here petrified,
As I look you in your eyes.
Lucas's emotions are warring all over his face. She doesn't know what he's decided on because sometimes it seems like he's trying to understand and others, he seems like he never will. So she continues on, there's not much left to the story anyway.
"My mom was furious that I didn't abort and I was six months along by then. It was illegal to abort at that point. And dangerous. My father was furious that I dared to come out there and attempt to dirty the name he was trying to make for himself. He thought I should have stayed and let your family," she puts up her fingers and makes quotes with her hands, "since they have more experience with teenage pregnancy, deal with it. Both of them agreed that I should stay in the house, tell no one, and give the baby up when I gave birth."
She laughs, feeling absolutely no humor but remembering how that conversation went. "The issue was that somewhere between you kissing me and LAX, I decided to keep him."
He seems conflicted about her revelation. She can almost feel his emotions now. She just doesn't know what they mean. "Not for us," she wants to reassure him. "I still wasn't sure there could ever be a you and me. But because I knew that I couldn't give him up. I knew that the longing for him would never go away. Just like the way I longed for you didn't. They went crazy when I said I wasn't giving him up. For two months, I was basically locked up in my room. What I said, later that year, wasn't a lie. All I wanted, every minute of those two months, was to be with you. I wrote letters. More than one a day, sometimes. I gave you the ones that I knew wouldn't give it away but there are letters that tell you all about it. I still have them. If you want them now, I mean. Then on the ninth of August, my Great Aunt Charlotte brought my breakfast up to me. For the next day, we spent hours talking about why I wanted to keep him. What I thought he needed. She told me that she'd be happy to take him until I finished school. That even if you and I could work it out, it'd be easier for us if we didn't have a baby to take care of during our senior year of high school."
She remembers the pleading her aunt did. She remembers feeling helpless, as if she would hurt her aunt if she said no to the proposal. She remembers feeling like she was being backed into a corner that she couldn't get out of.
"So you told her yes," Lucas surmises. "You told her she could have him for that year, while we finished school, and then you were going to take him back?"
She shakes her head, "I told her I'd think about it. I still had three weeks before he was due. We were supposed to go back to school the week I was due. My parents already told me that I could just be a few days late. You see," she tries to reason with him; "they thought that you got them to let me stay because you knew about the baby. And I made the mistake of telling them that I hadn't told you. They used it against me a lot. They kept telling me that you were still your father's son—something I witnessed firsthand those last few months of junior year. I was worried that you would change your mind about me. I'd lied to you. And then I kept the truth from you. I didn't know how I was going to tell you. But I swear, I wanted to."
"Well, maybe you should pinky swear, Brooke." His voice is so mean that she pulls back as if she'd been slapped. That's what it feels like. She watches him mentally cool himself down and try again, "Maybe you should have called. I would have told you to come home. Have the baby here."
"I did call," she says, much less confident than what she'd previously been, which wasn't much to begin with. But she had thought that maybe she was gaining some understanding from him. She was wrong. "I called that night, after everyone was asleep. No one answered at your house. You didn't answer your cell phone. So I called Peyton to see if she knew where you were. You were with her. It was well past midnight on the east coast and you were with her."
She still remembers what that felt like. Even now, knowing that nothing happened between them that summer, she can feel the sting of hearing his voice in the background.
It sent her into early labor.
My head is ready to explode.
I bleed my heart out on this paper for you.
-x-b-x-l-x-
So you can see what I can't say.
(I'm dying here)
'Cause I can't say what I want to.
He was with Peyton. Ugh. Someone should just shoot him and get it over with. What's worse is that he doesn't hear any blame in her tone. She's not accusing him. Just stating facts.
He can't even remember why he was there. He probably just couldn't sleep and needed someone to talk to.
"I rushed Peyton off of the phone. I told her to tell you that I'd call you with my flight information. Remember?"
He does. He had gotten so excited that she called looking for him. He took it as a sign that she was missing him. That things would be great between them just as soon as she got back. Though he was upset that she had to go so quickly, so fast that he didn't even get to talk to her, he was excited that he'd see her soon. It never crossed his mind that it was late and she'd be bothered by him being with Peyton. He left almost immediately after she ended the call, thinking he'd be able to sleep better knowing that Brooke missed him.
He did. Sleep better, that is.
"I had to go because—I'm not saying you guys did anything that summer. I trust you didn't." She breaks off in the middle of her sentence to reassure him. He knows right away that what she says next isn't going to be something good. "But, I don't know. Hearing your voice, there. With her. It sort of…"
"What, Brooke?" He sounds a lot harsher than he wants to. But why is she drawing this out. God! He just wants to know. He tries to soften his voice, without much luck. "What did it do?"
She takes a deep breath in and holds it for a while. When she releases, she looks right at him, "I had him that night. Well, early morning. I went into labor when I heard your voice."
He closes his eyes and tries not to feel the onslaught of guilt that hits him like a tidal wave. "Was he okay? That means he was born early. Were you okay, Brooke?"
It's years of habit, he tells himself. Making sure she's okay. He can't stop just because he wants to.
She nods. "We were fine. But in the hospital, Aunt Charlotte made me see that you being there meant that you weren't ready for a baby yet. You weren't ready for that commitment. I signed him over to her, on a temporary basis. Our agreement said that I could have him back when I graduated high school. No questions asked."
She holds up her hand when he starts to talk, saying, "Let me just finish and then you can say whatever you want. You can ask whatever you want. I'll tell you anything. I didn't tell you in the beginning because I was scared. And then we were together and there were so many times when I just wanted to tell you the truth. I wanted to give you the picture of him and me in the hospital—the only picture I had of him until about five years ago. But something always stopped me. I don't think I ever felt secure enough to believe in us getting through me lying to you like that. That's my issue. You had a right to know. I was completely wrong. I know that. I've always known it. But then Peyton told me that she loved you and you told me about the kiss. And everything was so messed up. And I was so sure that I had done the right thing. Not telling you left you free to be with Peyton—that's who you wanted. I just wanted you to be happy. I realized that not telling you was my way of making sure you weren't tied down too young. After we graduated, my parents told me that they'd help with the company so I could have something to give to Ethan. If I just left him there for another year or two. After you came to New York—"
She stops, taking several breaths. Trying to calm herself. She got more and more hysterical as she went on but he knew Brooke. She was doing her absolute best to not fall apart a second time. "I needed him. I went through all of these moments where I'd hear babies crying or I'd see a two year old in the park, and I'd just lose it. I told them that I couldn't anymore. I wanted my son. They bargained with me. I could get updates over the phone from Aunt Charlotte. They'd sign the Georgia house over to me. And we'd discuss Ethan later. When I got the papers for the house, there was a clause in there that Aunt Charlotte would live the rest of her life there, rent free. Which was fine with me. I'd have never kicked her out. But the clause also said that Ethan had to live there with her. I tried to get them to change it. I couldn't. They owned half of my company and I had no choice. It was take the deal or go get Ethan with nothing. They said it was for the best." There are tears rolling silently down her cheeks but she doesn't acknowledge them. He wants to; his hands are itching to brush them away. He clasps them together so as not to touch her. "When I finally left New York, I talked my Aunt into sending me pictures, too. Just between us. She would send me bundles. He seemed so happy there. I didn't want to disrupt that. I mean, I wanted to. I wanted him. But I thought I'd probably waited too long. She asked me to come visit. Be his mama. I couldn't do that long distance. I hurt enough."
She laughs that humorless laugh again. "I know. Me, me, me. That's all I thought about. I should have never let them talk me into it in the first place. I was weak. I stayed weak. Now, he hates me and you hate me. And everyone else is going to hate me. I know I deserve it. I deserve it. I know I do."
She's breaking down again. Her head drops to the table and the sobs wracking through her are shaking her so bad that her head is pounding against the wood of the table. He can't stop himself from walking over and pulling her into a hug.
He wishes he could. But he has to comfort her. Just a little bit.
He's weak, too.
"Shh, Brooke," he tells her. "You were young. He doesn't hate you. No one hates you."
Silently, he says, I hate me. I did this. She was never secure in our relationship. There wasn't ever a moment where she trusted him enough to tell him that he had a son. She may have lied. But he forced her to.
She looks up at him as her body calms down, "Do you think you could ever forgive me?"
He shakes his head, "Brooke, I don't want to do this. We can't have that talk."
He doesn't want to think about it. He wants to hate her. Forgiveness isn't something that's going to come easy. Because even if he did it—even if this is all his fault—he couldn't fix it if he didn't know. She didn't even give him a chance to try.
"Luke," she cries, "I need you to forgive me. I need to know that it's something that can be forgiven."
He steps back, releasing her from his grip. He should not have tried to comfort her. "I can't!" He's yelling and thankful that no one else is here. "I can't. You made me Dan, Brooke. My son felt abandoned and unwanted and if you don't think that's the truth, you need to look into his eyes. I know what that looks like. I know what it feels like. And I swore to myself that I'd never let any child of mine feel like that. Why the hell do you think I'm trying so hard with Peyton? I don't want Sawyer to ever feel anything less than loved. By two parents. And now I find out you gave birth to a baby and handed him over—and I don't care that they forced you, or whatever. If you would have told me, we'd have went and got him. We'd have been a family! He would be a kid. Not a grown up in a little boy's body. He thinks no one loved him enough. No one but your aunt, who's gone now. Do you know what that feels like? You made me Dan."
I bleed my heart out just for you.
-x-b-x-l-x
And it's all here in
Black and white and red.
"You said you wanted to be older and settled." It's like a switch has been flipped and she needs to go back at him. "In love! Which implied that you couldn't love me. I did it for you, Luke. I did it for you. Every decision I've ever made is connected to you. Your happiness. I don't know what it feels like to be unloved? Hell, you had Karen and Keith. I had my parents. Unloved? Check. Unwanted? Double check. The only person, save Mrs. Sawyer, who ever made me feel loved was Aunt Charlotte. I knew he'd feel love there. I trusted her. I did it for you."
"Well," he tells her, vilely, "the next time you do something for me, why don't you ask my opinion first?"
Suddenly, it's like all of the fight has drained out of her. "Lucas, this isn't going to get us anywhere. Why don't we just talk about now? We can pick up with this other conversation some other time when we're both more composed. When we've had more time to think about it all."
He nods, looking only slightly less ready for a fight, and goes back to the seat he'd vacated a few minutes ago. "I want to see him. A lot."
"Are you going to take him from me?" It's been on her mind a lot lately. "Victoria and Julian both seem to think you're just gonna take him, get custody, and move back to New Zealand or something."
He looks perplexed. "Did you tell Julian about this?"
"Not until last night," she tells him, honestly. "Are you going to take him, Luke? Because I know he seems to like you more but I really want to get to know him. Please, at least keep him in Tree Hill."
"Brooke," he interrupts her, "you are his mother. Maybe you haven't been much of one but I'm not about to tear him away from you. You are going to be his mother. But let's get one thing clear," he pauses, "I am his father. No one else. So… it was really nice of Julian to give us this time to talk or whatever. He can just keep giving us this space. He will not play daddy to my son. I don't care if you can't give him any of his own."
She cringes at his reference to her fertility issues. He used to be the only one who was sensitive to her where that was concerned. Not anymore. She resists the urge to laugh—nervously or at the cruel joke that life has played on her. "I don't think you have to worry about that. He's gone. I don't know if he's coming back."
Lucas nods. "So we've both agreed. We're the parents. We'll make up the other rules as we go. Right now, I think we need to just talk to him. Get to know him. Let him get to know us. He can live here but I'll want to take him sometimes. And I'll want a pass to come over here, with Sawyer if I have her, anytime I want to see him."
"You have a key," she reminds him. "You're welcome anytime. So is Sawyer."
He shakes his head at her. "I don't think we need any of this in writing. Not yet. We used to be friends, Brooke. I don't know if we'll ever be there again but for now, we need to be civil. We need to be able to trust each other. And we have to agree to talk to each other about Ethan. Anything concerning him runs through the other parent. Deal?"
She feels herself tearing up once more. There he goes again with the use of past tense. Used to be. "I'm still your friend, Luke. Even if you aren't mine. And you have a deal. We'll do this together."
He nods again. "Well, then. I'm going to go get my children from Nathan and Haley's. I thought I'd take him over to the rivercourt. Is that okay with you?"
"You're bringing him back tonight?" she asks, unsure of how this is supposed to work.
"He'll be back for bedtime."
With that, Lucas gets up from his seat and walks out of her house. No good-bye. Nothing.
While she wants to be happy that he's giving her a chance with Ethan, she can't help but be sad that he's not giving her another chance.
She just lost the only boy she ever truly loved.
(I'm dying here)
'Cause I can't say what I want to.
I bleed my heart out just for you.
-x-b-x-l-x-
For all the times-
Those words were never said.
He pulls off of the road a block before the gate entrance to Nathan and Haley's community. He just can't drive anymore. The tears that were blurring his vision finally hit him full force. He lets his head drop to the steering wheel and sobs.
Why did she do this to them? Why was he such an idiot teenage boy?
Why wasn't his complete devotion enough for her?
She never trusted him. It keeps repeating over and over in his head. He never made her feel secure enough. Maybe she didn't do this to them. Maybe he did. It's at least partially his fault.
She didn't believe in him. And that kills him.
He's known for a long time that he screwed up with her. He should have told her, right away about the library. He should have let Peyton fend for herself more. He should have called her. Told her about the HCM sooner. If he could do things different, she'd know how much he loved her. He'd appreciate her to the nth degree. She'd never doubt him. But he messed up and he had to accept that she was never going to want him again. When she deigned to be his friend after all of that mess, he thought he got pretty lucky.
At least she still had love for him. That's what he thought. But maybe she never did. Because if she didn't trust him enough to believe that he was telling the truth when he said he wanted her, not Peyton, then he doesn't know how she loved him. How do you love without trust?
He doesn't know.
He can't deal with this anymore today, though. Ethan and Sawyer are waiting for him.
He composes himself and pulls back onto the road toward his children. He just can't think about their mothers right now.
Either of them.
I bleed my heart out just for you.
So. Did it live up to what you guys wanted? Don't forget to review! I hope you enjoyed.
xx-Cor