Author's Notes: I apologize for the wait between last chapter and this one. My goal is to post a chapter every other week, but I can't guarantee that will happen each time. I have the entire story plotted out so it's really a matter of finding the time/energy to write. Right now, the story is set for approximately 18 chapters but that is not set in stone. This chapter again focuses on Haley and her struggle. I appreciate all of the great feedback I've had. Your words are very encouraging to the writing process.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Will never be mine.


"Tutor Girl!"

The cheerful (and loud) voice of her best friend woke Haley from a deep sleep. She wearily blinked her eyes open, her mind still clouded from the alcohol she consumed the previous night. Glancing at her bedside table, the bright red numbers of the clock flashed ten o'clock. For a brief moment, she thought of what she would be doing at this time six weeks ago. The loud bustle in the halls as the bell rang, the chatter of students as they made their way into the classroom, the scratch of the chalk as she wrote the day's lesson plan on the chalkboard…

But that was no longer how she spent her days. Instead, her days were spent sleeping until she roused herself from what most times was a drunken slumber, and then forcing herself to sober up with the help of a cold shower and whatever food she had on hand in the kitchen. The rest of the day was wasted getting lost in thoughts of the "if onlys" and "what might have beens." When those became too much, when the pain and hurt and anger and betrayal threatened to sweep her under, she went to the bar to drink so she could forget all that had happened in the last six months.

As Haley listened to the sound of her best friend moving around in her small kitchen, it reminded her of how her mom would get up early on Saturday mornings and make breakfast for the entire family, the enticing aromas drawing everyone into the kitchen and around the large oak table that dominated the space. The memory brought a small smile to her lips and for a moment, Haley allowed herself to indulge in the unexpected warmth , rather than pain, the memory brought. The James clan spent hours around that table, laughing and eating and loving. Some of Haley's best childhood memories of her family occurred at that table – her brothers good-naturedly teasing her older sisters as they prepared for dates, her mom and dad telling stories of their courtship over dinner, her chats with her mom after school as they sat around the old table, Haley telling Lydia of latest crushes or newest academic achievements.

But that table was gone now, finally sold when her parents were forced to sell their house and move into a smaller home. Sometimes Haley felt as if the splitting of the family started when the kitchen table was sold. When her parents wanted to move, Haley desperately wanted to keep the table for herself but she was fresh out of college and barely had two nickels to rub together, much less a place large enough to keep it. None of her siblings wanted the table, a fact that hurt Haley in a way she never imagined. It was as if her brothers and sisters were turning their backs on what made them a family, or so Haley thought. On the rare occasions that Haley allowed herself to reflect on the last several months, she knew that the seeds for her division from the family originated with the sale of that old, scarred table. Death only speeded up that process.

Shaking herself from the painful reminiscence, Haley rose from the bed, ignoring the slight pounding in her head as she made her way into the attached bathroom. Although she was still slightly fuzzy from the alcohol the previous night, she could tell that the effect was quickly wearing off. Apparently it had been more of a "drink until tipsy" night than a "drink until blackout drunk" night.

Haley splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. "What are you doing to yourself?" she wondered aloud as she studied the dark shadows under her eyes and gaunt features. This was not the face of Haley James, teacher at Tree Hill High School, fresh-faced and innocent, happy and content with her life. No, this was the face of Haley James, haggard and worn, her heart and spirit broken and scarred by tragedy.

Is this really how she wanted to live? Getting drunk, hiding away from her family and friends, wasting away in a sea of loneliness and despair? What would she say if-

Further introspection was interrupted by Brooke barging into the bedroom, carrying a tray with a bowl of cereal and a mug of hot coffee on it. Haley rolled her eyes at her best friend's lack of concern of whether she was still sleeping or not and grabbed her toothbrush.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Brooke sang out as she walked into the room. "Hales, time to—oh, you're already up! About time," she said as moved over to place the serving tray on Haley's desk. "I made breakfast for you."

"Brooke," Haley groaned after she finished brushing her teeth. "Pouring cereal into a bowl is not 'making breakfast.'"

"If it involves me in the kitchen, then I count it. So there!"

"Alright, Brookie. Whatever you say," Haley placated as she left the bathroom. Grabbing the cup of coffee, she carefully settled on her bed as Brooke sat in a nearby chair. Bringing the cup to her mouth, she took a moment to savor the heavenly aroma before sipping the hot liquid. "What?" she asked as she felt Brooke's gaze on her. "Is my bedhead that bad this morning?"

Brooke grinned at the slight joke and shook her head. "Nothing, you just seem… not hung over this morning. It's different, that's all."

"Well, I guess after months of practice, I'm finally getting the hang of this drinking thing," Haley cracked, mouthing a quick "sorry" when Brooke winced. "Lame joke, I know."

Brooke nodded. "Got that straight, Tutor Girl." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to psych herself up, and Haley felt a sense of dread wash over her. "Aren't you tired of living like this?"

Haley played dumb, not wanting to talk about it, but her heart raced at the inevitable confrontation. "Like what?"

"Like this!" Brooke exclaimed as she waved her hands around Haley's unkempt bedroom. "You're either drunk or hung over most of the time, you hardly eat anymore, you don't take care of yourself. You spend all your damn time at the bar. Hell, Haley, you were fired from your job and you don't seem to care!"

"I care," she stated softly. "I just—"

"Like hell you do! You're not drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you care too much, no matter what you tell yourself. You're running away, that's all you've been doing for the last six months. Since Chris, since your—"

"Brooke, I really don't want to do this now," Haley said softly, refusing to meet her best friend's eyes.

"When do you want to do this then? Every time I try to talk to you about what happened, you shut me down. I've tried, Haley, for the last six months I've tried to talk to you, to get you to talk to me about everything, and you just… don't. You shut me out, you run off to the bars to drink, you change the subject, you do everything but talk to me. I'm your best friend! Why can't you just talk to me?" Brooke cried, her face a mask of confusion.

During Brooke's speech, Haley had placed her mug on the bedside table and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. Rocking back and forth slightly, she shook her head as Brooke continued to implore Haley to just talk to her. Why couldn't Brooke understand she just couldn't? Putting it in words, actually talking about everything that had happened with Chris and her family, just made it real. If she didn't talk about it, she could almost fool herself into thinking it was all a horrible dream.

The alcohol enabled that bit of foolishness, so Haley clung to the one thing that made it all better, at least for awhile. When she drank, she didn't hear their voices. She didn't think about how her life might have been different if she had just answered that phone call. She didn't wonder what he was doing now, or if he ever thought of her anymore. When she drank, she didn't hurt with every fiber of her being.

With the alcohol, Haley didn't have to deal with anything, and now Brooke was asking her to do exactly that? No way she could handle this conversation right now, not sober.

"Just tell me why," Brooke pled at the end of her speech. "Make me understand."

"I can't, Brooke," Haley exploded, her voice loud in the small bedroom. "I can't, okay! If I do, then it all becomes real."

"But Haley, if you ta—"

"No, Brooke! Can't you understand that I can't handle that right now? Do I look like someone who could handle that?"

"I—"

"Brooke, I don't want to talk about this. Moreover, I'm not going to talk about this," Haley said, the fire in her eyes echoing the note of finality in her voice.

Her friend looked at her for a long moment before nodding in resignation. "I can't make you talk. But Haley, I really think you would feel better if—"

"Brooke," Haley warned.

Throwing up her hands in surrender, Brooke forced a smile. "Okay, okay. My cupa."

"What did you say?" Haley laughed. "My cupa?"

"What? You know, it's Latin or French or one of those languages for my bad. Like, oh I messed up. My cupa. Luke told me about it," Brooke said.

"I think you mean mea culpa. And who is Luke? I don't think you've mentioned him before."

At the hurt look on Brooke's face, Haley realized her friend must have told her about Luke but she had been too drunk at the time to remember. Just another checkmark under the "Reasons why Haley is a shitty person" column.

"Let me guess, I was drinking when you told me about him?"

"Good guess, Tutor Girl."

"I'm sorry, Tigger, I really am," Haley apologized as she reached over to squeeze her friend's hand. "I know I haven't been a good friend these last several months. I haven't been good at a lot of things lately."

Brooke returned the sign of affection and nodded.

"But I promise to try to be better, alright? Now tell me again about this Lucas guy…"


"Back again, Haley?"

She ignored the hint of judgment in Chase's voice as she sat down, idly noting the dark-haired man one stool down from her. Tric usually wasn't busy during the afternoon. In fact, Haley was often the only patron. After all, what else did she have to do with her time? Certainly not a job…

"The usual, Chase," she said, not wanting to deal with another one of Chase's lectures; not after the one she had received from Brooke earlier that morning.

Although Brooke seemed to be okay after she left Haley's house around lunch, Haley knew her friend was still angry about her refusal to talk. Their goodbye had been a little strained, with Brooke lightly questioning if Haley would be seeing Chase that afternoon and Haley snapping off a reply. Brooke apologized before leaving but the tension was evident. It all became too much to deal with and soon Haley found herself at Tric.

As Chase fixed her drink, Haley felt the weight of his stare pressing on her. She had first met Chase when Brooke brought her to Tric one night shortly after Haley had moved to Tree Hill. Chase and Haley instantly connected, and as Chase and Brooke had been friends since high school, the friendship between the three quickly grew. With Tric being the only non-skeezy bar in Tree Hill, Brooke and Haley became regulars, oftentimes merely sitting at the bar talking to Chase while he forced them to try his vile new concoctions. (His infamous Brain Blaster still gave the two girls nightmares.) The trio regularly met for dinner before Chase's shifts at the bar, and soon he grew to be the brother Brooke never had and Haley desperately missed. They celebrated each other's accomplishments, like when Chase was promoted from bartender to bar manager (a title he never failed to point out) or Brooke's website for her clothing line launched to great success, or were each other's shoulders to cry on when life got tough, like when Brooke's mother breezed back into town, intent on taking over her daughter's popular clothing line.

That is, until six months ago, when Haley began to burn every bridge in her life with uncaring abandon.

"Another fight with Brooke?" Chase questioned as he did what he said were "bar manager" duties but Haley and Brooke swore just made him a bartender. Examining the glass he was cleaning with a careful eye, he leaned against the island behind him.

"What does it matter to you? You're just the bartender."

"Bar manager," he retorted quickly, but their old joke fell flat as the meaning behind Haley's jab sank in.

For the last six months, Haley treated Chase simply as the means to an end – he was the source of her needed alcohol, nothing more. Two years of friendship and loyalty, gone in a blur of whiskey and vodka. Instead, she treated him as merely a bartender, a relative stranger whose sole purpose was to make her drinks. He kept trying, though. Trying to break through the walls Haley had built during the last several months, to remind her of their friendship, and of the person she really was, not the shell she had become.

Haley wasn't having it, however. That required feeling, and her only goal these last months was to prevent any and all feelings. It's why she wouldn't open up to Brooke, and treated Chase as if he was no more than a stranger. All to keep from feeling.

If she didn't feel, she didn't hurt.

If she didn't hurt, she didn't think of them.

"Hales," Chase started quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the man a few feet away. "You know Brooke only says that stuff—"

"I don't want to hear it, Chase," Haley interrupted, bringing the glass to her lips. Taking a swallow, she relished the sharp bite of the liquor before speaking again. "I came here to drink, not listen to unwanted advice about how badly I've fucked up, how much I'm hurting Brooke or you or my family, how I can be better if I just try. I don't give a shit about that. All I care about right now is this glass." She finished her speech by taking another sip of the drink, studiously avoiding Chase's gaze.

He studied her for long moments, and Haley felt his stare burning holes into her. She still felt raw after her latest argument with Brooke and all the too long ignored emotions it stirred up, and she knew if Chase kept pushing, she would break. She couldn't allow that to happen; she couldn't allow her self to be vulnerable. Not again.

"Just leave me alone, Chase," she muttered, willing herself to ignore the flash of hurt that crossed his features. Don't look at him, she told herself. Do not look at him. You can't give in, not now.

Chase sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a sign that Haley knew she had pushed him to the edge. Again.

"Fine, Haley. I'm about at my breaking point, and lord knows Brooke is too, so if you keep this up, this 'poor pitiful me' shit, you really will be alone one day."

With the familiar resigned slump to his shoulders that signaled an encounter with Haley, Chase stomped off to the stock room.

Unexpected tears came to her eyes at her friend's words. Blinking furiously to prevent the traitorous tears from falling, she kept her gaze on the counter, steadfastly ignoring the voice in her head that was screaming that Chase was right, that she needed to stop this behavior before she drove away the only two people left that cared about her. A few more drinks would drown out that voice. Only a few more drinks and she would be mindlessly numb and everything would fall back into place.


Aaaaaand there is chapter three. Depressing, I'm sure, but it will get better. Eventually, haha. Next chapter we'll see Nathan again and dun dun dun... Haley and Nathan interact.

Any feedback is most appreciated!