Dean slowly unpacked what little clothes he'd brought to Tree Hill, neatly placing the garments on top of his new bed. His new, temporary bed. He surveyed his surroundings and let out a low whistle of appreciation. Brooke sure knew how to pick out a house and decorate it.

A majority of Peyton's belongings were stacked in boxes by the door, relieving the room of the few feminine touches it carried. The walls were painted as blue as the ocean with the trimmings kept white. It housed a king size bed (niiice), a few black wood dressers and an assortmen of entertainment systems. The HD flat screen television set hung on the opposite wall from the bed. A stereo system sat just to the right of his open windows, baring a breathtaking view of the river outside. Though he hated to admit it, Dean could most definitely get used to a living in a place like this. Had Brooke not been so adamant that he stay with her, he probably wouldn't he here to begin with.

"You can't be serious."

Brooke raised her eyebrows and had the audacity to laugh at his reaction. "Why not? It makes sense. You need a place to stay, and I have a spare room. I actually have plenty of spare rooms, but that's beside the point," she waved the thought away and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't know—how bout the fact that we barely know each other? You're willing to house some stranger you met two days ago? Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"Oh, please," she said immediately. "You're not a complete and total stranger here. You're Haley's brother. You're the man who's overseeing my case. My hero, remember?" she grinned, batting her eyelashes like a damsel in distress.

He pursed his lips together and sent her a fierce look. "Trust me; I'm no one's hero."

Brooke's cocked brow refused to die down as she studied him closely. "Okay," she said after a while. "Maybe you're not a hero, but you sure are pretty damn close to the real thing." She waved off his response with the back of her hand and continued talking, never missing a beat. "Look, I get that we hardly know each other, but in the short time we've been together, you've constantly had my back. So let me return the favor."

"There was no favor involved to begin with," he explained.

"God, you are such a stubborn ass, you know that?" she asked in a breath, the irritation seeping through her lips.

"You're just now realizing that?" Dean taunted her.

Brooke's eyes narrowed into thin slits as she glared at him. "Keep it up, and I just might retract that offer."

"Take it back, see if I care," he replied easily.

She groaned loudly and snapped. "Would you just say you're gonna move in already, and quit being such a baby?"

He glared at her and stood from the chair. "Fine!" he replied back defiantly. "But you're not allowed to fall in love with me," he told her mockingly, as if he were a child.

The anger in her eyes toned down a notch but she stood up as he tried to walk past her. "Soooo not a problem!"

The next few minutes consisted of the other trying to outrun the other, in hopes of being the first one to walk away.

"You all right in here?"

He turned to find Brooke leaning against his doorframe, slightly hovering inside his room as if it were forbidden territory.

He nodded his head and looked at her. "You can come in, you know. I don't bite." He turned away from her just to look back again. "Unless you want me to."

Brooke rolled her eyes and walked into the room. She made sure that each step held the confidence she seemed to lack at the moment. She looked to the side and found Peyton's boxes against the wall. "She'll come by later with Luke to get those," she motioned to the cartons. "They're just moving some furniture around."

He let out a loud laugh and swung his gaze to her instantly. "Did I hear you correctly?"

She looked at him, puzzled by his laughter until the realization of her words hit her like a ton of bricks. Brooke scrunched up her face in disgust and moved closer to whack him softly with her hand. "I didn't mean it like that, you pervert," she scolded him, though a smile remained on her face. "Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"

Dean looked up to the ceiling and took a serious moment to think the question over. Brooke smacked him once again, and he laughed at her frustration. "What?" he asked innocently. "I was thinking it over!"

"Pig," she murmured underneath her breath. She offered him a smirk when the smile vanished from his lips. "So," she stretched her arms wide apart and turned her body to showcase the room. "What do you think?"

Dean pulled out his last pair of jeans from his suitcase and placed it on the bed. He put his hands on his hips and bobbed his head from side to side. "It's decent."

Brooke resisted the urge to hit him again and mimicked his stance instead. He did say he wasn't big on gratitude, so why she was surprised by his reaction was a wonder. "I'm glad you think so."

Her simple response wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Dean thought she would yell and scream like a banshee, telling him that he could at least be more thankful that he had a roof over his head—rent free, as she insisted over and over. It took an entire day to convince her to let him at least pay for groceries. He groaned inwardly as he remembered that long day.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, and began to express his appreciation as quickly as possible. "Look, you didn't have to help me out here, but you did. So… thanks." The wide-eyed expression on her face emitted laughter amidst his painful display of gratefulness. "Don't look too surprised. I am capable of being polite every once and a while."

"Well, you should let that side show more often, Detective Dean," she grinned stupidly.

He rolled his eyes at his newly appointed nickname. "Come on—not that shit again."

Brooke giggled at his reaction and made herself comfortable on his bed. "What's the matter, Detective Dean? Did I say something wrong?"

He threw a folded t-shirt at her and tampered down the smile that threatened to appear at the happiness that sparkled through her eyes. "You're worse than Haley."

"You're just realizing that?" she repeated his words from a couple of days ago. To be honest, Brooke had no idea what possessed her to invite the man to stay with her. Dean was right; aside from the fact that he was Haley's brother and a cop, she knew absolutely nothing about him. Strangely, she'd never felt more safe and comfortable while in the presence of an acquaintance.

"So, now that you're going to be staying here temporarily, I figure it's time we set up some house rules," Brooke declared, bracing her weight on her right arm as she sat up on his bed.

He nodded his head in a bored manner. "This should be fun."

"Shut up," she countered just as blandly. "First off, seeing as you are a guest in this house, you will have full and complete access to every room in the house 'cept for mine."

"Sure," he replied casually.

A little too casual, causing her eyes to narrow at the intent of his statement.

"Which brings me to my next point," she began, rising from his bed. She managed to train the muscles in her face to keep the grimaces naked to the human eye. She smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her cotton dress and stood toe to toe with him, despite the fact he was a good foot taller than her.

"Obviously, there's this…."

"Sexual attraction between us?" he finished her sentence unabashedly.

She sputtered over her own words, a slight blush forming on her normally creamy complexion. "I hate when you do that," she muttered.

"What?" Dean asked as he slowly approached her, a lion stalking his prey. "Make you so hot for me that it literally renders you speechless?" He grinned at the disgusted look on her face and moved away before she could hit him again. "I'm kidding, Brooke."

"Yeah, well—you're not funny," she informed him.

"I'll remember that the next time you decide to call me Detective Dean," he told her, winking at her all at the same time.

Brooke huffed in annoyance and threw out her hand in exasperation. "Can we move on?" He swept the air before him with one hand, signaling that the floor was hers to speak. "As I was saying, obviously there's this… attraction between the two of us—"

"There is?" he asked seeming truly perplexed by the declaration.

And her eyes widened to the size of headlights. Her eyes soon focused on the view from his window as she tried to get a grip on the change of events.

Had she been imagining the entire thing? Maybe Dean wasn't interested in her the same way she was she had thought. Great, Davis. What a way to make your new houseguest feel welcome. Accuse him of liking you just because you think you could possibly have feelings for him. Great.

"And here I thought we were just having some fun," he said to break the silence. There was a slight hitch to his voice that brought Brooke back to reality, her eyes finding his in a heartbeat. She could throttle him.

Dean stood there silently, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing at her. Acting on instinct, she picked up the first object she could find—his empty suitcase—and lunged forward with it, attempting to bring the large piece of luggage over her head to bash him with. His large hands quickly found Brooke's delicate wrists as he held them in place, keeping the bag from connecting with his face. "Will you put that down?" he scolded. "You could hurt yourself," he said, this time his voice a little more stern.

Unfortunately for Brooke, the warning had come too late.

Her hands released the bulky bag as she placed a hand over the right side of her ribs. The briefcase toppled over the both of them, catching him on the shoulder as it bounced onto her knee. The two didn't have time to react as they focused on Brooke's bruised ribs. "Where does it hurt?" he asked hurriedly, crouching down below her to place a soft hand on the spot she indicated. "Lie down," he commanded as he led her to the bed.

"I'm fine," she insisted through clenched teeth. Her feet remained rooted to the ground despite his many attempts to gently coax her to his bed. "Seriously, Dean. It just stings a little. I'll be fine," she replied, the tone in her voice convincing him she meant every word.

He eyed her wearily but removed his hands from her body. "If you're sure," he said and walked away from her. Dean didn't know what it was about her that brought him to his knees each and every time she felt discomfort from her accident. Sure, Brooke was a beautiful woman with a kind spirit and spunk attitude. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to her, but at the end of the day, he was still the cop managing her case. She was his little sister's best girlfriend. Too many strings meant too many complications that Dean didn't want nor need. He had enough baggage of his own to take care of, after all.

Nathan unbuckled Jamie from his booster chair and proceeded to take him out of their car. "Do you think I'm gonna get to shoot the ball a lot, Daddy?"

The young father nodded his head patiently. "I think so," he answered earnestly. "You've got a great jump shot for a midget."

The little boy laughed at his father's comment and took the hand he offered as they moved to walk across the street. "I'm not a midget! I'm five years old! I'm supposed to be this short!"

Nathan hit himself on the forehead, an act that brightened the light in his son's eyes. "Of course! How could I forget?" he played along with his son. They walked hand in hand until their feet met the sidewalk. As soon as Nathan let go of his hand, Jamie continued on with the endless questioning, the subject switching from basketball to his favorite uncle.

"Do you think Uncle Lucas is really gonna get married this time?"

Nathan certainly wasn't prepared for the question so he masked his surprise with ease. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, Uncle Lucas said he wanted to marry Lindsey and spend the rest of his life with her. And now he wants to marry Aunt Peyton. Are they really gonna do it, or are they gonna change their mind like last time?"

Nathan stopped walking and crouched down to his son's height before answering. "Jamie, your Uncle Luke and Lindsey didn't get married because she didn't think it was what he wanted."

"Then why did he ask her to marry him if it wasn't what he wanted?" Jamie asked, truly perplexed by the whole idea of marriage.

His father shrugged his shoulders and clasped his hands together, resting the tips of his elbows on his thighs. "I think Uncle Luke thought at the time that Lindsey was the girl he was supposed to be with for forever. When Lindsey stopped the wedding, it made him realize that he didn't love her as much as he loved your Aunt Peyton."

The kid nodded his head, prompting Nathan to stand and continue their walk towards the courts. "Is there another girl that Uncle Luke would love more than Aunt Peyton?"

An image of Brooke Davis flashed quickly through Nate's mind. In all honesty, he was sure that ship sailed a long time ago, but his big brother was notorious for being indecisive when it came to the two girls. Brooke or Peyton, Peyton or Brooke—the story always came back to the popular love triangle. Lindsey never stood a chance.

But in the long run, Luke had chosen Peyton. Their love was epic in every sense of the word, so much so that Brooke willingly took herself out of the equation to let fate run its course between the two lovers—regardless of the fact that he was her boyfriend, and Peyton was her best friend.

"No," Nathan finally answered his son. "I think your Uncle Luke has finally got it right this time," he said honestly.

"Good. Now all we have to do is get Aunt Brooke and Uncle Dean together."

"What?!" Nathan couldn't believe his ears. Where was this coming from? "Jamie, where do you get these ideas from?"

"I can't tell you," the little boy said solemnly, his eyes darting in every direction but towards his father. When Nathan stopped walking and crossed his hands over his chest threateningly, Jamie sighed and hesitantly met his dad's gaze. "Aunt Brooke likes to watch soap operas," he said innocently, shrugging his shoulders.

He tried his best not to laugh and instead chose to sigh deeply. "And these soap operas that you watch gave you the idea that Brooke and Uncle Dean need to be together?"

"Uh-huh," the boy responded easily, glad that his father was on the same page.

Nathan shook his head and crouched down to talk to his son once again. "All right, first of all, no more soap operas. I don't care what Brooke says. And second of all, Jamie, the world doesn't work the way you want it to. Your Aunt Brooke and Uncle Dean can't just come together because it's what you decided. They need to see if it's what they want first."

"But I don't see what the big deal is," Jamie began. "He looks at her the same way you look at Mama."

Jamie's observation stunned his father, rendering him truly speechless for the first time that morning. Before he could begin to think of an appropriate response, he was saved by little Robert Andrews running towards them, calling out to his son.

"Jamie!" the kid screamed ecstatically, waving his hands in the air as he made his way over. Nathan looked up in time to catch his mother chasing breathlessly after him.

"Robert Martin Andrews!" the young mother screamed after her kid. She stopped abruptly in front of the father and son duo, struggling to catch her breath. "You know you're not supposed to do stuff like that, Robby!" she quietly scolded her son. "Never run off without telling me where you're going, and getting the okay from me. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," her son said brightly. "Sorry, mom. Its just… well, Jamie's here!"

"Yeah, sorry Mrs. Andrews," Jamie piped up from his spot. "The kids always get excited to see me."

Mrs. Andrews laughed at the cute comment while Nathan smirked and shook his head lightly. "Dude, conceited much?"

Robby looked up to him and asked, "What's con-seeded mean?"

"Conceited," his mother corrected him.

"It means my son thinks way too much of himself," Nathan answered, patting his son on top of his head. He turned his attention to the girl before him and stuck out his hand. "You must be Jane."

Jane's head bobbed up and down as she shook the hand put out before her. "Jane Andrews, but everyone calls me Jae," she formally introduced herself. "And you're Nathan Scott of the University of Maryland." He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and she scrunched her face up in mild embarrassment. "Huge basketball fan, what can I say?" she said with a laugh.

"Favorite team?" Nathan found himself asking.

"The Lakers, of course," Jae answered with obvious pride. "Born and raised in Los Angeles so I can't help it, really," she explained.

He nodded his head and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry about the championship," he said, referring to the Lakers' loss to the Boston Celtics.

She shrugged off his apology with nonchalance. "Please," she began. "I'm glad Garnett finally got his championship ring, but aside from that, Boston can kiss my—"

"Mom, don't say it," her son cut in when he saw where the conversation was headed. Nathan laughed at the role reversal while the young mother ran a hand through her hair.

"Sorry, sweet pea," she replied to her son, rubbing his shoulders.

"It's okay," he said before turning his attention back to Nathan. "She gets like that whenever she talks about basketball."

"Well, aside from her potty mouth," he said, smiling at Robby's mother, "you should be proud your mom knows her stuff. How many mothers do you know out there that know their basketball, huh?"

Jamie nodded his head and directed his gaze at his friend. "It's true," he agreed with his father. "My mom still calls a free throw a touchdown."

Jae laughed at the comment, looking to Nathan. Her eyes asked him if his son was serious, to which he sadly nodded his head. "And to make matters worse, she was a cheerleader in high school so she's supposed to know better."

"Oh, man," Jae groaned quietly as she pulled her son towards the direction of the basketball courts. "Come on, guys. We should get going. Warm-ups start in five minutes, and then they pick teams."

The two kids followed suit, Nathan following closely behind. Jae turned to him and offered to take Jamie off his hands. "If you have things to do, I can take him from here. Haley told you he was spending the night, right?"

Nathan nodded his head but made no move to leave. "She did, but I want to see Jamie play. Besides," he shrugged as they fell into step besides their respective sons. "With the kids playing, your potty mouth can tell me all about how much you despise Paul Pierce."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Don't get me started on Pierce."

"Yeah, don't," Robby interrupted again. "She can go on for days about that one."

The quad laughed as they made their way over to the check-in desks.

"So what's your take on Dean moving in with Brooke?"

Luke gripped the steering wheel tighter underneath his fingertips. It was a wonder he managed not to swerve the car at Peyton's out of the blue question. He stole a glance at her and brought his eyes back to the road. "What do you mean?"

Peyton shrugged her shoulders and burrowed deeper into the passenger seat. She'd long since given up on trying to find a decent song on the radio. Had they taken her car like she insisted, this wouldn't be such a problem. "Well, you know Dean better than I do. To me, he's a complete stranger moving in with my best friend."

He frowned at her words and looked at her briefly. "The fact that he's Haley's brother doesn't mean anything to you?"

She shook her head lightly. "It's not about that Luke. I'm sure he's a great guy and everything, but… I don't know him. And after all that Brooke has been through this past week…"

Luke nodded his head and turned the radio off all together. "I don't think your problem is Dean moving in." She looked at him questioningly, and he brought his eyes to the road. "I think you're feeling guilty for moving out."

Her mouth took on the shape of an 'O' as she sat up in her seat. "No! It's not about that."

"It isn't?" he asked unconvinced. "Here we are, moving on with the rest of our lives while Brooke seems to be losing her ground?"

Peyton was so silent he thought she didn't hear him. After a minute passed, she told him the truth. "She won't admit it, but I know that she came home for me. She opened up shop here, helped me jumpstart my own record label all because I called her one night to tell her how my life was slowly spinning out of control." She turned to Luke then and frowned sadly. "She dropped everything to be there for me and made everything better. Now, look at what's happened to her—and the first thing I do is move in with you… of course I feel guilty."

"Peyton, you can't think like that," he tried soothing her pain. "You may be the reason she came back to Tree Hill, but she stayed because she missed us. All of us, not just you. She wanted her friends—she needed her family. She wanted to love and to be loved. Why do you think she wanted to be a mom so bad?"

"I know," Peyton mumbled begrudgingly. "I just… I can't help but feel like I'm abandoning my best friend for my fiancé," she quickly sobered up and looked at him. "That didn't come out right."

Luke easily shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. "I know what you mean. Why don't you talk to her about it when we get there?" he asked encouragingly. "Maybe it'll make you feel better to let her know that you're still there for her even if you're not living together."

Peyton nodded her head and reached out her hand to cover his own. When he intertwined their fingers together, she smiled and pulled their hands to her lips. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

She shrugged. "For always knowing the right thing to say." Her brow furrowed together as she brought the conversation back on course. "You didn't answer my question. How do you feel about Dean moving in with Brooke?"

Luke sighed, playing off the act by checking his side mirrors. Here, the thought he'd smoothly evaded having to answer the question. Too bad Peyton was too smart for that. "Why does my opinion matter?"

"I don't know—maybe because you've known Dean for as long as you've known Haley… minus the fact that he's been out of town for the last eight years." She rubbed at his hand with her free one and turned her body to face his from the passenger seat. "You think it's a good idea for them to be living under the same roof?"

Luke took a moment to consider the question. Did he like the idea of his childhood mentor (aside from Keith, of course) moving in with his former girlfriend/somewhat best friend? Of course he was. Brooke had just been attacked, Dean was a cop… the situation seemed perfect. Brooke wouldn't feel so alone in her big house with Peyton gone, and Dean would be there to protect and comfort her from whatever dangers that lurked outside her door.

"Dean's a good guy. More importantly, he's investigating her case," Luke said as he pulled up to Brooke's house. "He'll take good care of her, I'm sure." Though he said this with great conviction, he barely managed to sincerely choke the words out of his mouth. He wasn't too comfortable with another guy protecting Brooke, but expressing this to his current fiancé—who just so happened to be best friends with his former love—didn't seem like such a great idea. So he kept these comments to himself.

"Okay, then," she replied with a jerk of her head. "I trust your judgment so if you have faith in him, then so do I," she said with such confidence. He envied her loyalty to him and the way she trust every word that slipped past his lips, no questions asked. It made him feel guilty, considering the thoughts inside his head would most certainly bring pause to their upcoming nuptials. Clearly, he didn't deserve her.

But he wouldn't say that, either.

They made their way out of his car and walked the short path to Brooke's front door. Peyton dug into her oversized purse in search of her keys. "I don't know why I bought this thing," she muttered as her fingers reached the bottom of her bag, her hands coming up empty.

Luke smirked and leaned over his girlfriend to ring the doorbell. When she didn't look up from her purse, he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I heard that if you press that button over there," he said pointing at the doorbell, "the door will magically open."

"Ha, ha. Don't mock me, Scott," she replied, still rifling through her purse. "They're in here somewhere—"

The rest of her sentence was cut off when the front door flew open and revealed a breathless Dean. Wonder what he was doing? Luke couldn't help but think to himself. Dean smiled at the presence of their new guests and opened the door completely, ushering them into his temporary place of residence. "Hey, Leyton," he smirked at the nickname.

Luke threw glowered at him, shaking his head in disapproval. "Shut up, Dean."

The command prompted Dean's smirk to grow into a full on smile. "Sorry, man. Couldn't help it. Brooke kept insisting that Leyton was coming over to pick up the boxes. I had no idea the girl had a mouth on her. She can go on for days."

"I heard that," Brooke scolded as she came out of his bedroom. She carefully made her way into the living room to greet her friends. Her ribs were throbbing from the altercation with Dean earlier, but if she complained, she'd be ordered straight to bed rest. That seriously wasn't an option. "Hey guys," she greeted Peyton and Lucas before leaning against the back of the couch.

"You okay, there?" Luke found himself asking. He'd memorized the many faces of Brooke Davis long ago. He could instantly tell when she was happy, sad, puzzled, upset… or in this case, in pain. The muscles on her face remained stiff, the only movement coming from her lips when she'd speak or smile.

She gave him a knowing look, telling him without words not to make a fuss out of her discomfort. "I'm good, Lucas." She cocked her head towards Dean's direction and looked pointedly at Peyton. "I'm telling you, between these two, it's amazing that I'm able to wipe my ass with my own two hands."

"Brooke!" Peyton said in astonishment, laughing after the comment.

"Gross," Dean said in a heartbeat. "It takes two hands to wipe your ass?"

Her eyes flashed with murder as the three of them doubled over in pure amusement. Brooke's cheeks tinted red at the embarrassment. Clearly, she'd forgotten how it felt to be the butt of the joke. "Ass," Brooke said below her breath, picking up a throw pillow from the couch and tossing it in his direction.

"Careful," Dean warned her, easily catching the pillow with one hand. "Remember what happened last time you tried getting physical with me?" He quirked his eyebrows up, and even she couldn't hold back a smile.

"I'm beginning to think this was a really bad idea," Brooke said, her eyes still lit with mirth.

"Me, too," Luke muttered quietly, grateful that no one had heard him.

"Come on, Detective Dean," Peyton chided, winking at Brooke when the older man groaned at the name. "You can help me bring the boxes out of your room."

He jerked his chin towards Luke. "Why can't he help you?"

"Because I don't want his help. I want yours," she informed him. "It gives me a chance to give you a rundown of the house rules." Peyton made her way to her former room, not waiting for him to follow.

Like a kid, Dean dragged his feet behind her, "I already know," he said aloud. "I'm a dead man if I step one foot into Brooke's room. We had this conversation already."

Brooke smiled and shook her head at the two of them as they disappeared around the corner. "Could she be any more subtle?" She slowly sat down on the couch, grimacing when the right side of her tummy protested the movement.

"Can you?" Luke countered, coming over to Brooke's side to ease her down to sit. "What happened? I thought you were feeling better?"

She took a couple of deep breaths and pursed her lips together. "I'm fine, Lucas. It's nothing. Dean and I were just playing around and I…," she sighed as she tried to figure out what to say. "I guess I just forgot about my ribs."

"Brooke," Luke began as he threw his arm around the back of the couch. "You've gotta be more careful. The only reason Dr. Copeland let you leave the hospital was because you promised you'd take it easy." He pointed to the hand over her ribs. "That isn't exactly my idea of taking it easy."

She rolled her eyes and laid her head on the back of the couch, the top of her head brushing Luke's arm. "I know," she answered mechanically. "I can't help it sometimes, though. This is only the second time this has happened—"

"Second time?" Luke asked incredulously. "When was the first?"

She cringed at the slip of her tongue. "Um," she stuttered. "The first time was… after I was released from the hospital. Dean and I were talking, we started laughing, and I completely forgot about my sides hurting, until I pulled my knees towards my chest." She shrugged, not having anything left to say.

Luke remained quiet as he took a moment to process her words. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of Dean and Brooke bonding so well. Sure, he'd seen the two flirt every now and then, but Lucas genuinely thought the depth of their relationship was the playful banter they displayed for everyone to see. He never took into account the quiet conversations the two shared behind closed doors. "It seems the two of you are getting along beautifully," he commented.

Brooke scrunched her face up, but her eyes remained vibrant when she spoke. "He's a dick. Talks too damn much, clearly doesn't know what the word boundaries means, but you know me. I'm always ready to break a guy in." Her eyebrows wiggled as she gave him the once over with her eyes. "Look at the fabulous job I did with you."

Luke laughed at her expression, pushing his head from one side to another. "Yes, my mother would be so proud," he added, dipping his head towards her. "But really. How are you, Brooke? With Angie gone and all?"

"Who's Angie? Your lesbian lover?" Dean couldn't help from asking as he carried a box out of his room.

"Pervert," Peyton accused him as she carried a box smaller in comparison.

"Angie," Brooke cut in, "was a baby that I took care of from another country. To make a long story short, she had a heart defect and needed surgery or else she'd die. I took care of her right before and after the surgery."

"Wow," Dean found himself saying. It seemed there were many layers to Brooke Davis he'd yet to uncover. "That's an amazing thing you did there."

"That's our Brooke," Peyton said proudly. "She's always saving everyone one hand at a time."

"Yep," Brooke plastered on a cheery smile for her friends. "That's me, all right."

"You should be proud of yourself," Dean said. He noticed her shift uncomfortably underneath the watchful eyes of Luke and Peyton. He wanted to help relax her hidden anxiety and at the same time, not undermine the importance of the person she was. "There aren't a lot of people your age that care as much as you do," he told her with a nod of her head before opening the door to take his box out.

"Between the three of us?" Peyton said once she knew Dean was out of earshot, "I like him."

Brooke nodded her head and squeezed her cheeks inwards towards the tip of her nose. "I know, he kinda grows on you after a while."

"Indeed he does," her friend replied. She picked up her box and made her way towards the door. When she reached the threshold, she turned to look over her shoulder and smiled saucily at her best friend. "And dare I say… he sure does look good on you, B. Davis." With that, she sauntered out of the house, ignoring the gasp that fell past Brooke's lips.

Too bad she missed the slight scowl that surfaced on her fiancé's. Luke swiped a hand over his face, hiding the frown beneath his hand as he turned to look at Brooke again. "Be careful around Dean," he found himself saying.

His words must've shocked her as much as they surprised him, and her face told him so. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Surely she'd misheard him. "What do you mean?"

"I…" What did he mean? He was engaged to be married to Peyton. The idea of Brooke and Dean together shouldn't bother him as much as it did. He swallowed past the uncomfortable lump in his throat and retrieved the arm that had fallen across her shoulders. "With your ribs," he heard himself say. "He's good company, but if the man has you rolling with every joke, it'll be back to bed rest for you. Minus the personal bonding time with Detective Dean."

Brooke shook her head and avoided his eyes all together. "Always looking out for me, Lucas Scott."

He shrugged in response. "What can I say? I did promise to save you… once upon a time."

Her eyes glazed over as the memory of that night washed over her. They were together. They were struggling, but they were both putting in the effort to make their relationship work. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs of yesterday's past from her eyes and stared at her first love. "Isn't it crazy how much time passes by? That seems like it was so many years ago."

Luke nods his head sadly. Without comment, he raises himself from the couch and walks towards Dean's room, ready to help move things along faster. Before leaving the living room, he turns to Brooke and can't help himself from commenting. "And now you have Dean to save you."

He watched as she opened her mouth to speak, quick to deny the comment with a shake of her head. "Luke, it's not… we're not like that."

He nods his head in understanding, mostly for Brooke's benefit. But he knows better.

After all, he's a master of her many faces. He was always able to read her like a book.

The gift had always been a blessing… but now, he discovered it to be a curse.