*****Chapter Three*****

The memory came clearly to me. I had just gotten back to Nashville after a week of being in New York on Broadway. The kids were on vacation with Brock and his 'new love', and would be gone for the next week. That meant I'd already been through 1 week of not seeing my children, and had 1 more to go. I didn't know how I was going to do this. One month you're a some-what normal family, and the next your husband is with a woman half your age and your teenage daughter is pregnant. Sure, I knew our marriage had problems. But it was me and Brock. In my heart, I knew we would work it out. I had no clue it would end like this. And with Cheyenne, I was just as much surprised. She was just 17, and pregnant. My baby was pregnant. It was too much to take in, especially all at once.

They were all going on a vacation to Hawaii, a trip I suggested. Brock and the kids needed to work things out. I had no idea his blond doofus would be going with them. Knowing this, and coming home to an empty house, has affected me drastically. Was there something wrong with me? Have I been doing it all wrong? Being a wife? A mother? My mind was scattered. On impulse, I decided to do something I hadn't done in years. I decided to go to a bar. Alone.

My friends had been trying to get me out since the divorce, and we've been to bars and clubs a lot lately. But with all of the emotions I was feeling, I decided I wanted something. To this day, I'm still not sure what it was that I wanted. All I knew was that I was going to a bar alone, in search of a strong, strong feeling. I was being reckless, something I hadn't done in years.

Going into my closet, I picked out a low cut black top, with my bombshell bra pushing my breast higher than they've been pushed in years. I put on the tightest jeans I owned, and some kick-ass black boots. 20 minutes later, with my red lipstick and black eyeliner, I was out the door without a doubt in my mind.

Roy's was an old bar on the outskirts of Nashville, known for its crazy drunks and parking lot fights. I grew up in places like this, and was ready to go back- Even though I was a smart woman and knew what lied ahead.

I took another sip of wine and sunk deeper into the water, closing my eyes tighter. I was reminding myself of all of the feelings I felt that night, and was ready to relive it all. I took a deep breath in and remembered the scene of the bar- the smoky air, the men staring at me, and the dim lighting. And then I saw him. I felt myself grow hot as I recall looking across the room and making eye contact with him. It happened when I first got to the bar, and didn't happen again until right before I left. On the back of his motorcycle. Now, scene by scene, every detail came to me and I remembered the night perfectly.

I stood facing the wall at the end of the bathroom hallway, just to the side of the bar, looking down at my phone. The kids had tried to call, probably to tell me goodnight like every other night. I was trying to get service and a quiet place to call back. Just seeing their name on my phone made guilt pound in my chest. Only for a quick second, though. I heard "Oh my gosh, that's Reba McEntire!" a few times from the end of the hallway, but pretended I didn't notice. Then, I heard "You know she's single now." from a man with a deep voice. I turned to see a tall man surrounded by a group of good-looking men, probably in their 30s, all looking at me with obvious intentions in their eyes. They appeared out of nowhere, and were blocking the way back into the bar.

"Hey baby girl. How are you holding up?" The tall man asked as he walked towards me. The others stayed behind. I flipped my phone shut and turned to him, unsure what I was thinking. "You've been in the media a lot lately. I know it must be hard." He drew out his southern accent, and approached me. I knew he was referring to Brad and Cheyenne. He was so close now I could feel his breath breathing danger into my face.

"No, I'm fine. I'm better without that dick, anyways." What was wrong with me? In a million years I could never imagine talking like that. Especially about Brad. It was just that night..Something about it..I felt unstoppable. Empowered.

"Well, I know you're just getting rid of one, but I have another dick that's been waiting just for you." He said, and suddenly pushed his body into me, pressing me up against the wall. He pressed his lips hard against mine. I tried to scream, but there was so much pressure on my body I couldn't even breathe. My mind was clouding up, but I could still hear his friends shouting stupid remarks and laughing in the background. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and I felt his manhood, now hard, pressed up against me. Panic rose in my stomach. On instinct, I bit down hard on his tongue. He yelped and drew back quickly. He yelled a cuss word and grabbed onto his mouth. I tried to get away, but with his other arm he threw me back against the wall. That's when I noticed his stupid friends had gone completely silent. The tall man pulled his hand from his mouth and saw blood.

"You little bitch." He said. "Now I know for sure what I'm going to do to you." He said, returning to his position and pressing harder than before against me. Just as I was about to cry, his head quickly jutted to the side, and the tall man hit the ground with a thud. Standing in the space behind him was the man I saw when I first entered the bar. Behind him, most of the tall man's friends were gone, and the only two left were on the ground holding their stomachs in pain.

"C'mon." The man who just knocked out tall guy and his friends, and who possibly saved my life, grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out from the hallway. I reluctantly walked behind him as he led us to the bar. He pulled out the stool for me, and ordered two Miller Lites, which is what I had been drinking when he first saw me. He was casual, as if none of that had happened.

We sat there quietly until the bartender brought our drinks.

"Thank you." I mumbled to the man, not wanting to make eye contact.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Showing up at a bar looking so damn sexy?" He immediately asked, as if he had been waiting for me to break the silence. I was surprised by the bluntness of the question, and the deep rasp to his voice.

"I, um.." For the first time ever, a man had me speechless. I looked down at my beer.

"Men around here don't care who you are. If you're single, and wearing something like what you've got on, they'll find a way to have their way with you." He said. I looked up, and for the first time, stared into the eyes of this mysterious man. They were hazel, with golden tents around them. He had shaggy black hair and a structured face. He was built, and had a body that made my stomach flutter. He was absolutely stunning. I haven't felt like this about anyone since Brad. It was such a strange moment. But of course, no matter how sexy or hypnotizing you are, I'm still a stubborn redhead and set in my ways. I wasn't going to let a man make me feel stupid for dressing like a whore for one night of my life.

"I know exactly how men work." I said, straightening my posture and regaining my confidence. "And I knew exactly what I was getting myself into by coming here dressed like this." A half smile came to his lips and danced in his eyes. I watched as he skimmed down my body and then back up, stopping at my breast and being overly obvious about it. "I knew men like you would look at me like that." I said, enjoying the fact that the tables had been turned. I slid my hand to the bottom of my shirt and tugged down a little, trying not to make it obvious to the people around us. I felt the fabric slide down as more of my cleavage was being shown. His eyes got bigger. He was putty in my hands. "I'm thinking that you didn't save my ass just to save my ass. You're wanting something in return.'' Actually, I knew that for a fact, but somehow I was okay with it. What was wrong with me that night?

"And what if that just so happens to be the case?'' He said, finally looking up and pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket.

"Well, on any other night I'd say thank you and leave as fast as I could. I know your type." He lifted his eyebrows and lit his cigarette. "But tonight, I sat down with you, let your eyes wonder all over my body, and let you buy me a drink, which is a sign that from this point anything could happen." He smirked.

"Technically I haven't bought your beer yet. For all you know I just ordered it for you and was expecting you to pay." He leaned closer.

"I see." I responded. "But if you buy the drink, I'll consider this a date. If I buy it, you're just some random guy at the bar. And I don't act this way with random guys at the bar." I said matter-of-factly as I pulled my shirt back up, covering most of my cleavage.

"But if this were a date, you would act that way?" He said, obviously amused as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Tonight I would."

He threw a 20 on the bar right as the bar tender was passing. As he brought it to the register and get his change, the man stared at me in a way I've never been stared at before. I knew he was danger. And I loved that. What was wrong with me that night.

"What's your name?" I finally asked.

"John. Callahan." He responded as the bartender brought his change. She Thinks His Name Was John flashed in my head, and I tried not to laugh at the irony. "So," he began, shoving his change in his pocket and putting out the cigarette that he had somehow managed to smoke most of. "I saved your ass and payed for your drink," He said, leaning close to me and putting his hands on my knees. "Now what?"

I bit my lip and looked around the bar. This was wrong. I'm a mother, for God's sake. I wasn't supposed to be doing stupid stuff like this. But as his hands slowly slid up my thighs, and the fire in his eyes grew brighter, I knew my better judgment didn't have a chance. I haven't felt this way in years, and dammit I deserved it! No matter how much I told myself I shouldn't, I knew deep down I was going home with John Callahan. The next few minutes were a blur as he led me out of the bar and helped me onto his motorcycle.

I've never ridden a motorcycle before, and lost my balance several times trying to get, and stay, on the seat. Only now looking back do I realize that I wasn't wearing a helmet, and John had had at least two beers. Was it a wise decision? No. But nothing was that night.

The water in my bathtub had started to cool. Keeping my eyes shut and my head leaned back, I used my foot to slowly start the warm water. I could vividly remember that ride to his house. But instead of being filled with anxiety, like when I usually think of him, I found myself smiling, lost in the moment just as I had been 6 years ago. As I imagined the cool air brushing against my face as we sped down a back road, I let my hand slide over my arms and shoulders, feeling the smoothness of my skin. I remember leaning my face into the back of his leather jacket, and wrapping my arms around him tightly, utterly terrified and laughing at the whole situation. How long had I been this close to a guy? Brock and I hadn't done anything like this for ages. As I remembered the smell of his cologne, I took a deep inhale and smelt the soapy bubbles getting closer to my shoulders as the water rose. Remembering the vibration of the motorcycle, hot between my legs and driving me crazy, I let my hand dip into the water and slide down my stomach. I remembered pulling into his house, a nice log cabin in the middle of nowhere, and walking on shaky legs to his front door. I remembered watching his face as he fumbled with his keys, and noticing how aged he looked up close. You could tell that man had been to hell and back. And man, it turned me on.

My hand wondered across my stomach and down between my legs as I remembered the events that happened next. By this point, I didn't even realize what I was doing to myself alone in my bath tub. No..By this point, I was with John. Walking up the stairs to his bedroom.

His room was dimly lit. He left me standing alone in the doorway as he walked into the master bath. We hadn't said a word the whole way home, but I was so confused I hardly noticed. I heard him begin to piss, and was reminded of how stupid men could be. Was this the time or place for that? No. It wasn't.

I heard him washing his hands as I went and sat down on his large bed. It was soft, and I sank into it. I was wondering just how many girls he had gotten into that bed as he walked out of the bathroom and stood in the doorway, just staring at me. Then, he slowly walked towards me. When he reached me, he pulled me up off of the bed, with a little too much force, and held me close enough to him to where our warm bodies were touching, but he could still see into my eyes. He touched my parted lips, and then closed his eyes as he leaned in to kiss me. I accepted his kiss quickly, and found myself pressing against him, wanted every part of him to myself. I felt him get harder, and myself get wetter, as he pulled away from my lips and began kissing my neck. I pulled the shoulder of my shirt down, begging him to keep going.

He lifted my shirt, and I felt my bare stomach against his belt. He was still kissing my neck, until he caught me by surprise by pushing me, again with a little too much force, back onto the bed. He stared into my eyes as he unbuttoned my pants and ripped them off of me. When Brock had done this, he stared at me with love. But there was no love with John-only lust.

After my pants were on the floor, he began kissing my stomach. I felt as if I were on fire as he slowly slid down to my panty line. His tongue went across each side of my underwear, teasing me by kissing the inside of my thighs. I wanted him so bad. I started pushing down my underwear, but he grabbed my hands and held them hard against the bed at my sides. His grasp was sturdy against my wrists. He continued to tease me, while holding on to my hands, for several seconds before he let go and slid off my underwear. When his mouth made contact with me, I felt fireworks of ecstasy explode inside of me. It had been so long since this had been done to me. Before long, I was moaning his name and using my hand to press his face as far into me as possible. My hips began rocking against him, and just as I felt the waves of orgasm approaching, he came up and grabbed onto my upper body, yanking me far enough off of the bed to rip off my bra. I unbuttoned his shirt as fast as I could, but it still wasn't fast enough. I found myself ignoring the last three buttons and ripping it open. He growled, and let out an evil, lust-filled laugh. He grabbed onto my wrists and held me down against the bed. He looked up and down my naked body, smiling.

"Keep your hands here." He commanded, pressing them hard against the bed above my head before removing his hands to take off his belt and pants. I followed his instructions, and waiting for him. I wanted him so badly, and moaned loudly when I saw his large manhood explode from his jeans. He returned his hands to my wrists, still holding them above my head, and slowly entered me, looking into my eyes. I was in shock as he filled me, and was in love with every detail of his face as he went in and out of me the first few times. After that, it became quick and forced. With every rough thrust, I felt myself closer and closer to orgasm. I was screaming in ecstasy, unable to move my hands, but urging him to keep going. Soon, the waves began to hit me, and I felt my body release into an explosion of pleasure. He came the same time as I did, not wearing a condom and not pulling out. But feeling him release inside of me made my orgasm so much better. Afterwards, I felt my body sink into the mattress as he released my hands. They were sore, and the next day I had light bruises on my wrists.

We continued to have sex for the rest of the night, each time more violent, yet needing, than the last. I even found myself slapping him a few times. But we needed it. We needed each other. Without saying a word, we knew it.

The memories of that night brought me to my own pleasure in my warm bath. But after my moment was over, and I realized how stupid I had been that night, I was filled with regret. I wish I could go back in time and stop myself after that night. But then again, how was I to know what I was getting myself into? How was I to know that that night was the start of one of the most awful periods of my life?

At the same time, however, the sex with him was amazing. The feeling of him by my side, leading my farther into danger than ever before, was exhilarating. And now, I had the chance to relive it all again. Was it worth it? Was it worth the pain he caused me? Maybe I'll sleep on it. All I know is that there is a text from him on my phone, and I'm expected to reply. And I know exactly what he wants. Even after 6 years, men like him don't change.

I could ignore the text, and ignore the temptation, but that could make him mad. And I don't want that. Or I could reply, and simply give in. I could spend the next few weeks in utter joy with that man, and then the next 6 years emotionally and physically scarred. Either way, it was up to me. And now I'm alone, stuck wondering to myself the question that hasn't left my mind all this time- Was it worth it?