Chapter 11: Torn

Brandon leaned against the wall outside the Blaze office, knowing it was always Andrea's final stop before she headed outside to catch her bus. The final bell of the day had rung, and the halls were beginning to thin out as students filtered off to sports, activities or the parking lots. He was planning to offer Andrea a ride, figuring they could head to the Walsh house to start preparing for the campaign. He was pretty certain that his mother would then extend the invite to Andrea to join them for dinner, and he could drive her back to her grandmother's house later that night.

He knew Kelly would be stopping by the Walsh house at some point, judging by the last words she had spoken to him before eighth period, and he wanted to take a moment to explain the situation to Andrea before Kelly made her appearance. He also wondered if Kelly had said anything to Brenda, and he had to admit he was curious to see how his sister processed the news.

"Hey, what are you waiting for?" As if on cue, Brenda strode towards him, books at her side, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Let's get going. Some of us have homework to start, thanks to Mrs. Henson's past life as a slave driver. I swear, the old bat is insane if she thinks we can finish two hundred pages of Faulkner by Wednesday." She paused. "Think we can stop at a bookstore so I can grab some Cliff's Notes?"

"Bren, seriously, just read the book. You're only cheating yourself if you use Cliff Notes," he reprimanded her gently. She rolled her eyes.

"Then why does everyone do it?'

"I read the books," he replied.

"I rest my case," she smirked. "So can we get going?"

"Just wait a second. I'm waiting for Andrea." He gestured to the door, and Brenda peeked inside, where she saw Andrea hunched over a desk, having what appeared to be a heated debate with another student.

"She doesn't look like she's going to be finished any time soon," she observed. Brandon straightened up and peered through the window. He sighed and dropped his backpack at Brenda's feet.

"Wait here," he ordered, pulling open the Blaze door. At the sound of the interruption, Andrea and the girl both looked up.

"Hey, Brandon," Andrea smiled tightly. "Beth and I were just having a little debate over how to cover the Student Council campaign."

"And I say it's a conflict of interest given that one of the candidates is on staff here and you're telling me that you're running his campaign," Beth Harmon replied, hands on her hips. "I don't think you should be the one to write the articles about it, that's all."

"Newspapers endorse candidates all the time," Andrea shot back hotly. Beth pressed her lips into a thin line.

"And those candidates don't work for the newspapers. It's different, Andrea, admit it. If it wasn't Brandon Walsh, you'd be ranting about it!"

"Brandon, what do you think?" Andrea turned to him, her brown eyes heavy with frustration.

"I think I'm staying out of it," he replied.

"Already the politician," Beth laughed. "Well, this issue aside, Brandon, I think it's safe to say that you have my endorsement. I think you'd do a great job."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"He would do a great job," Andrea interjected. "But he's going to need to get his name out there. He's still relatively new to this school, and most of us have known Michael Miller since kindergarten. Name recognition is the sole reason half of uninformed high schoolers vote."

"Andrea, I hate to interrupt when you're spouting facts," Brandon teased. "But Brenda's waiting outside that door, and my guess is she's not going to be happy the longer I'm in here."

"Oh," Andrea flushed, looking down. "Sorry, Brandon. Was there something you wanted then?"

"Actually, I was coming to offer you a ride. I thought maybe we could go to my house and get our ideas for this campaign on paper."

"That would be great!" she exclaimed, reaching for her bag on the chair, her face bright with enthusiasm. She grinned at him and turned to Beth. "I guess we'll continue this debate tomorrow?"

"We can discuss it at our staff meeting on Wednesday. I'm sure Jay and the others will have their own opinions on the matter," she replied, sliding into a chair to begin pecking at a keyboard. "I'm going to try and edit that article on the auditions for Our Town and the one about the marching band competition."

"Okay, well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow then," Andrea replied.

"Bye," Beth answered, not looking away from the screen. "Good luck with the strategizing session."

"Thanks," Andrea and Brandon both replied in unison. Brandon held the door for his friend as they exited the office.

"It's about time," Brenda teased. "Hi, Andrea," she smiled warmly at the girl.

"Hi, Brenda!"

"So, what are you two up to this afternoon?" Brenda asked, feigning innocence.

"Andrea's coming over to start planning my campaign," Brandon explained. Brenda stopped and smacked her brother on the arm.

"Oh, I'd been meaning to ask you about that. Thanks a lot for not telling me about your presidential aspirations this morning on the ride to school. Why is the sister always the last to know?" Brandon ducked his head sheepishly as they reached the parking lot, and he began searching for where he had parked the car. The rain had finally let up, though the sky was still threatening, and they dodged puddles as the three of them made their way to Mondale.

"Someone told you?" he questioned. Brenda cocked her head at him and gave him a disapproving look.

"I heard it from Donna at lunch. And she had heard it from Kelly," she explained. "She only said she had ran into you on your way to get a petition from Mrs. Teasley."

"I'm sorry, Bren," he apologized, unlocking the driver side door and flicking the unlock button inside to allow Brenda and Andrea access. He longed for the ability to unlock the doors with a simple click from a remote, like most of his friends could with their clearly-superior vehicles. Mondale, like his namesake, was firmly rooted in the 80s. "I should have told you this morning. I just wasn't one hundred percent sure until I talked with Andrea today."

"Well, I guess I'll forgive you," she laughed, settling into the passenger seat while Andrea climbed into the rear seat behind Brenda's.

"What do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I think you'd be a great president," she replied with a smile. "You're probably to nice and too honest for any real political aspirations," she added quickly, "but as far as high school government goes, you're ideal."

"Thanks, I think," he joked, looking over his shoulder to guide the car out of the spot as he put Mondale in reverse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andrea staring at him, but when he met her eyes in the rearview mirror, she immediately looked away, gazing out the window silently.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Brenda broke the silence, pivoting in her seat to address Andrea. The brunette's eyes widened behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

"What?"

"Relax, Andrea, I'm not accusing you of anything," Brenda replied smoothly. "All I'm wondering is if my brother got this idea on his own, or he was persuaded to run by someone else." Brandon hid a smile and glanced back at Andrea again.

"Uh, it was my idea," she admitted. "He actually needed quite a bit of persuading."

"Andrea might be the one with a future in politics," Brandon mused. "She's quite the bull when she wants something."

"Not really," she blushed. "I just think you should make a difference in the world when you have a chance." Brenda leaned back against the seat, mildly amused by the way Andrea reacted whenever she was within several feet of Brandon.

The quick ride home was made even quicker when Brenda discovered Andrea can already read A Light in August and urged the brainy girl to give her a crash course in Faulkner. Cliff's Notes apparently couldn't hold a candle to Andrea's take on the novel, and Brenda had gone so far as to pull out her English notebook to jot down some of the things Andrea was sharing.

As Brandon turned onto Hillcrest Drive, he blinked twice and wondered if he was seeing things as the Walsh home came into sight. Parked in the driveway was Kelly's gleaming red BMW. He sighed inwardly and cursed himself for dragging his feet on telling Andrea about his invitation to the blonde.

"What's Kelly's car doing in our driveway?" Brenda wondered as she too noticed the Beemer. From the back seat, Brandon noted Andrea shift ever so-slightly in her seat.

"Oh, you're not expecting her?" Brandon feigned. Brenda shook her head.

"Not that I knew of. When I left her and Donna this afternoon, she was talking about some project she had to work on. She said she'd talk to me later, and I didn't see her again after eighth period." Brenda shrugged. "Maybe she just felt like coming over. You know sometimes I think she likes talking to Mom, given her lack of parental guidance." Brenda threw open her car door as Brandon brought Mondale into park and the car shuddered to silence.

"Andrea, wait," Brandon called as she began to follow Brenda into the house. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm lightly, stopping her from advancing any further. Andrea glanced down at his hand on her, and he withdrew it almost at once. He rocked back on his heels and sighed. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Can it wait til we get inside?" she replied as rain drops began to pepper them once more, increasing in intensity. Brandon looked up at the gun-metal sky, a splash landing square between his eyes as he did so.

"Yeah, let's go," he agreed, and the two darted up the driveway and into the dry warmth of the Walshes' foyer. He could hear his sister's voice coming from the kitchen, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she figured out why Kelly was there.

"What's wrong, Brandon?" Andrea asked, confusion etched on her face. Brandon raked a hand through his hair and braced himself.

"It's about Kelly," he replied.

"What about her?" Andrea said bluntly.

"I, uh, well, this afternoon in history class, she had something for me." He paused, chiding himself for how lame he sounded and how difficult it was to just tell Andrea the truth. He was reasonably certain she was going to be annoyed by Kelly's involvement. He took a deep breath and opted to just be direct. "Kelly had taken it upon herself to go get another petition from Mrs. Teasley, and she had collected all my signatures by the end of lunch. She gave it to me in history, and she kind of hinted that I might need help with my campaign…"

"Brandon, you didn't," Andrea shook her head, and he couldn't tell if it was exasperation, jealousy or a combination of the two that crackled in her usually-serene brown eyes.

"What could I say, Andrea?" he explained, his voice rising, throwing his hands up.

"You could have said no," she retorted. "Oh, wait. Girls like Kelly aren't used to the word 'no.'" Brandon was taken aback by the barb; he wasn't used to Andrea saying anything mean about anyone.

"That wasn't nice, Andrea," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, guilt now clouding her face.

"It's not really that big a deal," he continued. "She just wants to help, and she was so proud of what she had done for me."

"Yeah, it was very charitable of her," Andrea snipped. She shook her head again.

"You're still my campaign manager, Chief," he reassured her.

"Brandon, are you out there?" his mother's voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I am, Mom," he replied, starting towards the kitchen and motioning to Andrea that she should follow him.

"Hi, sweetie!" Cindy Walsh grinned broadly. Brandon managed a weak smile for his mom before his eyes wandered to the seat to Cindy's left, where Kelly was seated, a glass of iced tea in front of her, giving him a very private smile. Brenda was rummaging through a cabinet, obviously searching for something to snack on. "Andrea, hi!" Cindy added cheerfully. "Brenda told me you were with Brandon."

"Hi Mrs. Walsh," Andrea smiled politely. Her eyes cut towards Kelly, who was still gazing at Brandon. "Kelly," Andrea continued tightly.

"Hi, Andrea," the blonde replied breezily. "We were just talking about you." Brandon inhaled and crossed over to the refrigerator to grab something to drink. Andrea raised an eyebrow at Kelly.

"Oh?"

"Well, I was just telling Mrs. Walsh about Brandon running for Student Council president," Kelly explained.

"I think it's wonderful," Cindy enthused. "Your father is going to be so pleased. He always felt badly that you had to suspend your run for treasurer back home in Minnesota on account of his transfer."

"Dad's always had political aspirations for you," Brenda called from her perch at the counter, gnawing on an apple.

"Brandon told me that you're running his campaign," Kelly continued, smoothing her hair with one hand.

"And he told me what you did with his petition," Andrea replied. Brandon's eyes darted between the girls, being very much like a tennis ball in the middle of an intense volley.

"Anything to help Brandon," Kelly added, locking her eyes on his.

"Wait, I didn't hear about this," Brenda protested, coming around from behind the counter to take the seat next to Kelly. "What did you do with his petition?" Kelly shrugged.

"I got it completed for him," she responded, as if it had been nothing. "It didn't take me very long either. I had it filled by the end of lunch."

"So that's where you were," Brenda mused softly.

"I knew Brandon would be studying for his history quiz, and I figured I'd surprise him. I think it worked." Brenda frowned as she took note of the adoring glance her best friend was shooting her brother.

"Well, I guess we can just chuck the other one," Andrea huffed.

"How many signatures did you have, Andrea?" Brandon asked, curious as to where they'd have stood without Kelly's assistance. Andrea dug her toe into the floor and coughed. Brenda and her mother exchanged a look of slight amusement at the battle lines clearly being drawn.

"I'm going to go out to my garden and try to get some fresh cucumbers for the salad for dinner. You girls will both stay, won't you?"

"I'd love to, Mrs. Walsh," Kelly beamed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Walsh. I'll have to call my grandmother and see if it's okay, but I appreciate the invitation," Andrea replied. Cindy smiled and retreated out the back door.

"So, how far did you get with Brandon's original petition?" Kelly repeated, leaning against the table, eyes shining.

"Not many, okay? Six. It's not a big deal now. Brandon'll hand in the form tomorrow and it all becomes official," she pointed out. Turning to Brandon, she said, with some impatience, "Can we go up to your room and start planning?"

"I'm going to go start my homework," Brenda declared. "Kelly, you coming?" Kelly glanced over at Brandon and bit her lip. Brandon deduced that Kelly had yet to tell Brenda her real intentions for being in their kitchen at the moment.

"Well, actually," Kelly hedged. "I'm kind of helping Brandon with his campaign." Brenda tried to contain her surprise, and she snuck a glance at Andrea, who was trying to hide her displeasure with this revelation.

"You are?" Brenda exclaimed incredulously. "I thought Andrea was running the campaign."

"I am," Andrea interjected at the same time Brandon replied, "She is." They looked at each other. Brandon continued.

"Andrea's still my campaign manager, but Kelly was nice enough to offer, so I figured the more help, the better."

"You're not mad, are you?" Kelly asked, her eyes shooting Brenda a silent plea, and Brenda groaned inwardly, realizing Kelly was not about to give up on her pursuit of Brandon.

"No," she lied. "Why would I be?" She retrieved her books from the kitchen counter. "You guys have fun planning. I'm going upstairs." Without another word, she stalked from the kitchen, leaving the three of them behind. She trudged up the stairs, swallowing a lump of jealousy that had bubbled up for several reasons. Closing her door quietly, she flopped onto her bed, realizing for the first time how hurt she was that Brandon had not confessed his idea to run for Student Council to her before anyone else. They usually shared those kinds of things, each being able to offer the kind of advice no one but a sibling could offer, and it wasn't like Brandon hadn't had the opportunity that morning. Instead, he had glossed the whole situation over and blown her off.

Then there was Kelly. It was brutally obvious the interest she had in Brandon, and Brenda strongly suspected her willingness to do grunt work on a Student Council campaign was solely to get closer to Brandon and make herself look better in his eyes. In fact, Brenda had to wonder if she wasn't partially responsible for the whole situation, given the incident just days earlier when she insinuated Kelly wasn't Brandon's type. What better way to prove Brenda wrong than be Brandon's MVP? Given than Kelly had never shown any ounce of school spirit and participated in exactly zero school-related activities, Brenda knew she was probably correct in that assumption.

She also knew the crush Andrea harbored for Brandon, and in spite of Brandon's comment that Andrea was relentless in getting what she wanted, Brenda figured that tenacity did not apply to matters of the heart. She had done very little to come on strongly when it came to Brandon, and if she was going to face off with Kelly when it came to winning her Brandon's affection, Brenda knew that Kelly would come out, guns blazing. She had already made the first move in the little stunt she pulled with the petition.

She rolled over onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, blinking several times, surprised at the hot prick of tears she felt stinging at the corners of her eyes. Scolding herself, she fought them back. Foolish, she chided herself. She glanced over at the phone on her bedside table, and she longed to be able to pick up the receiver and hear Dylan's voice. But he was miles away, and she would have to wait for his call.

She also had to wonder if she and Kelly were supposed to use this time away from Dylan to bond, how that would even be possible if Kelly was busy attempting to wrap herself around Brandon's finger.

Heaving a sigh, she turned back onto her stomach and reached for her dog-eared copy of A Light in August. The last student to have used the book had clearly used and abused it, and she found several pages fell out of the worn permabinding as she opened it. Annoyed, she tossed the book to the floor, crawled into a ball and closed her eyes, opting to drift off for a quick nap and forget the irritations of the past hour.

***

"Now this is nice." Dylan shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun as he glanced over at his father, reclining on a chaise lounge beside Dylan, Corona sweating in his hand. Dylan nodded absently, his eyes wandering back out to the sparkling sea beyond the balcony of his father's Mexican bungalow. The crowded beach was quickly becoming deserted, and just a few sun worshippers were left, trying to drink up every last ray. He took a sip from the bottled water at his side, trying to quell the nagging urge from within for a beer of his own. He suspected his father wouldn't have cared in the slightest if he had one.

"It's good to have you here, son," Jack continued, clapping a hand on Dylan's shoulder.

"Good to be here," he echoed, his eyes following the path of an errant seagull screaming across the sky.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much time together since you got here on Saturday," Jack apologized, taking a long pull off his beer.

"What's her name, Dad?" Dylan asked mockingly. Jack smirked and nodded.

"You still know your old man better than anyone, eh?" He set down his beer. "Her name is Catherine."

"That's not very ethnic," Dylan replied.

"She's not Mexican. Native Californian, just like you and me."

"So what's she doing in Mexico?"

"The short answer? Laying low and keeping her assets hidden from a greedy soon-to-be-ex-husband."

"I take it you don't feel the need to share the long answer," he shook his head. Jack shrugged.

"Why bother? I'm just having some fun, Dylan. It's not serious."

"It never is, is it Dad?"

"I try not to let it be," Jack responded curtly. "And it's better that way. How's your mother?"

"Nice try changing the subject," Dylan retorted dryly. "Iris is fine, not that you really care. Haven't talked to her in a few weeks, but last time we spoke, she assured me my aura was good and I was due for some happiness."

"When is she ever going to let up on that hippy shit?" Jack sighed.

"If it makes her happy, why do you care?"

"Touche," Jack laughed. "So, you've been pretty quiet about how things are with you since you arrived, and don't think I haven't noticed you haven't been down on the beach trying to land a Mexican fling for the week." He swung his legs over the edge of the chaise lounge and rested his elbows on his knees. "So, talk to me son. Your turn. What's her name?"

"Dad," Dylan warned.

"You know me so well, well, Dylan, don't think I don't know you better than anyone. Most time you're down here visiting with me, you've got girls lined up waiting for you. I remember last year on one particular visit you had two different gals knocking on the same night." Dylan frowned and recalled the incident well.

"So?"

"So, you've been sitting out on this balcony for the better part of the day, you haven't had a drink all day, and you're not off somewhere working your charms on the better part of the female population of Los Cabos. So logic tells me there's a girl in your life, and it must be fairly serious. So what's her name?"

"Brenda," Dylan murmured, trying to keep the smile from spreading across his face at the very thought of her, not wanting to reveal any more to his father.

"You wanna tell your old man about this Brenda?"

"Not particularly," he muttered, giving into the urge and snatching the half-empty Corona from the table, taking a long, languid sip of the beer, which was like ambrosia to his taste buds. He closed his eyes and savored the taste. "I came down here to see you out of obligation, Dad. Not really looking for a heart-to-heart." Which wasn't entirely true, he knew. Indeed, he had hoped to have a chat with his father about his relationship with Brenda, but that was before Jack had chosen to blow him off within hours of him arriving at the bungalow, apparently spending the night and day thereafter with this Catherine woman he had just spoken of. He was more than a little bit irritated with his old man, and he really wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

"I ask you to come down here all the time, and this time you practically jumped. Why are you here, Dylan?"

"I thought I'd spend some time with you before the law finally catches up with you," he snapped. "Weekly prison visits just aren't the same, you know." Jack pressed his lips together and nodded cynically.

"Save the sarcasm, son. You know it doesn't work on me, we're cut from the same cloth." He nodded at the almost-empty Corona bottle. "I'll get you one of your own." He rose from the lounge chair and slipped inside the sliding glass doors. Dylan sighed and stared off in the distance again. He drained the last of the beer and plunked down the empty bottle, the lime rattling around inside as it bounced to a stop at the bottom. He had the sudden urge to call Brenda, just to hear her voice, but he thought better of it, knowing she would no doubt want to chat for an hour. He'd have to wait til later in the evening to make the call. Jack would most likely be slipping out to see his lady friend, unless she came to him. Dylan wrinkled his nose at the thought, and made a mental note to head to Don Quixote's, a dive bar not far from Jack's little community, if this Catherine did materialize tonight.

"Here you go." Jack dangled an open bottle above Dylan's hand, and he closed his fingers around the frosty brew, reaching over into the ice-filled bowl and selecting a lime wedge. He squeezed it into the beer, then jammed the wedge down into the bottle neck, the amber liquid fizzing as the lime plunged into it. He plugged his thumb over the open neck, inverted the bottle and let the lime slip to the bottom before taking a pull. Jack did the same as he repositioned himself on the chaise.

"So, let's talk about Brenda," Jack suggested again. Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, Dad, you want to talk, we'll talk. What do you want to know?"

"What are you willing to tell?"

"I told you I didn't really want to tell you anything," he snorted. "I'll answer your questions, and maybe if you're lucky, I'll just get chatty."

"Well, okay, then," Jack frowned. "How did you meet? School?"

"Yeah, school," Dylan nodded. It wasn't entirely untrue, though their meeting was a bit more complicated than he felt necessary to share with Jack. "She and her family moved to Beverly Hills from Minnesota."

"That's quite a change," Jack mused.

"You could say that," Dylan replied.

"What's she like?"

"She's beautiful," Dylan began, his mind conjuring up an image of her, and this time, he couldn't help smiling. He could see her glossy, raven hair, bangs just framing her face, skimming the tops of her steely-gray eyes, which always seemed alight with happiness when she was with him. He pictured her full lips, which always seemed fuller in his presence, usually swollen from their intense kissing.

"I wouldn't expect any less," he laughed. "You always land yourself the beauties." He studied his son's reflective face, and could tell the young man was deep in thought. "So what makes this one different?"

"She just is," Dylan replied cryptically. "She's sweet and she's innocent and she's…just so unlike any of the other girls I've dated." He shook his head, now feeling his bottled-up emotions threatening to spill over. "And I'm trying to figure out what she sees in me and what she's doing with me."

"That's easy. The sweet young things always go for the rebellious bad boys. Been happening for centuries. Or have you never read Romeo and Juliet?"

"I'm falling in love with her, Dad," he confessed, twisting the bottle back and forth between his palms.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Her father hates me," he added. Jack chuckled.

"Frankly, I'd be more concerned if a girl's father liked you at first sight."

"I've never really had a long-term relationship with anyone,' he continued. "And even thought it's only been two months, I can see myself with this girl for a long time."

"And that scares you," Jack nodded. "You're young, Dylan. I think most guys are a bit weary of commitment at your age."

"I don't want to hurt her," he whispered. Jack turned and gazed at his son seriously.

"Why would you think you'd hurt her?"

"I don't know. Cause I've screwed up everything in my life up to this point, why would I stop now?"

"Oh, Dylan, my boy," Jack shook his head. "You definitely have it bad."

"Thanks for the newsflash," he replied sarcastically. The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted their conversation, and Jack picked up the cordless receiver that he had brought onto the deck with them.

"Hello? Catherine, hi," he lowered his voice, raising his eyebrows at Dylan as he stood and headed for the sliding doors again. "No, no, I was just talking with my son…" The doors clicked shut and Jack's voice was silenced. Dylan sighed and drank his beer, listening to the squawk of the gulls and the crashing of the waves. And this is why I don't open up to you, Dad, he mused, bitter that the second he thought they were making progress, the call of a stupid woman beckoned and Jack ran like a dumb dog.

Nevertheless, the solitude was much preferred, and he closed his eyes and let thoughts of Brenda Walsh consume him once more.

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Author's Note: Poor Steve. Guess he didn't make it into this chapter after all. But I just couldn't find a way to do it seamlessly. It seemed out of place, so I cut it and it's waiting on deck, maybe as part of Chapter 12. We shall see.

I wanted to get this up because odds are I won't have anything else up until next week, unless I really get the new story's first chapter wrapped up better tomorrow night (it's long and choppy right now), so my apologies for any typos…this was only proofread once.

It's really hard to get inside Dylan's head, and I wanted to get across the iffy relationship he shared with his dad, making him reluctant to open up, so I felt it was appropriate to have Jack leave just as Dylan was opening up. I hope you agree…

I didn't get inside Brandon's head as much as I wanted with the Andrea-Kelly initial showdown, because I felt the dialogue needed to flow back and forth without so many intrusions. I'm sure there will be enough chances for that in subsequent chapters. I just hope he's coming across as adequately torn with his feelings. I'm also trying to be true to Andrea, who always showed jealousy towards Kelly in Season 1, and Kelly, who was far more blasé in Season 1…like I said, it's going to take Brandon to make her the character most of us loved so much by Season 4.

Okay, I'll shut up now. That's why I saved the author note for the end of this chapter. Please click that little green button and share your thoughts…I'm very grateful for all the detailed feedback on the last chapter! ~Court~