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-Chapter 6-

The rest of my weekend surprisingly went about as smooth as my life could go. I actually got to bed early Sunday night, and Monday morning I beat traffic and got to work on time for the first time in ages. I was greeted with the usual when I walked in- My assistant with my coffee, a few people from the office updating me with new projects, and Brett, my hair stylist and make-up artist, asking for advise on what he should wear that night at the clubs. I forced a smile and responded to everyone the best I could. When I finally got to my office, I locked the door and sunk into my chair. So much was on my mind.

Where had that dream come from? The John one I could understand. I had been stressing over him ever since he sent me that text. Usually people dream about what was heavy on their mind. But with the memory of Brock… I had kept that forced in the back of my mind, and hadn't allowed myself to think of it in years. Even now, when storms came, it was less of a reminder of that awful crash, and more of a habit for my anxiety to attack. That fear deep inside of me that happened every time dark clouds were near became natural to me, and I hardly ever thought of the reasoning behind it. So yes, that dream was pretty random. Plus, I remember something else about last night. Something that I heard Brock say that had interrupted my dream with John. As hard as I strained my brain, I couldn't quite remember it. I decided to let it slide for now, knowing that as the day went on I'd recall more and more of my dream.

There really wasn't much to do that morning, so I took an early lunch around 11. When I came back to the office, however, things had sped up. I had a meeting about a new fall addition to my clothing line (I know, I never thought I'd have a clothing line either.), a meeting about the new stage setup for a tour I was planning, and a table read of the next episode of Malibu Country. Surprisingly, I somehow managed to walk back into my office at 4. I sat at my desk, ready to check the 'twitter world', when my thoughts were interrupted by my secretary, buzzing in from her desk at the front of the floor.

"Ms. McEntire, Brock Hart is here to see you." She said in her usual peppy voice. I bit my lip, realizing this is the first time I'd seen him since Friday, even though I wouldn't call that seeing him. Brock wasn't there.

"Send him in." I responded. I took a deep breath, and about a minute later, Brock lightly knocked on the door while slowly opening it. I pretended to be busy and highly focused on important work on my computer, while in actuality I was looking at a tweet from the username 'RebaMarryMe4589'.

"Hey." He said awkwardly. I looked up with a sigh, pretending I was in the middle of something. When I saw him, I realized that something wasn't right. His eyes were dark and his skin pale, obviously from the massive hangover he's probably still dealing with. But besides that, he looked...sad. He had aged so much. His eyes crinkled at the end, and glistened, almost making it look like he were crying. My heart ached.

"Hey," I almost whispered. "How ya holding up?"

"Better than Friday night." He chuckled, staring at the ground. He stood in place at the door, not moving at all. Big, tough Brock looked so vulnerable and weak right now. The way he was looking towards the ground, he almost looked guilty.

"You can sit down." I said, motioning to the seats in front of my desk.

"Thanks." He sighed as he eased into the plush chair. Up close, I could still see the bruise under his eye, but it had faded to where it was hardly noticeable. Right as I considered asking him about it, he broke the tense silence. "Listen.. I'm really sorry about last night. I should have remembered the kids were coming over. I guess I just didn't think it through." Obviously. I wanted to be mean in response, but the way he was looking down, and not making eye contact with me as he spoke, made me think there was more to the story.

"Brock, how could you forget? And why would you do that to yourself?" I knew the question had to be asked, but I said it softly and quietly, trying not to hurt him anymore than he already was.

"I'm not sure, Reba." Was all he said.

"C'mon, Brock-"

"Reba, I don't know why I did it. Okay?" He snapped back, finally looking into my eyes. It had been the first time he had intensely looked at me in a long time, and I could see pain in his eyes. Why didn't he want to talk to me about this? At that point, I was strongly considering jumping from my desk, grabbing his hand, and begging him to pour his heart out to me like he used to. But I knew I couldn't act like that. We were adults. This wasn't about mine and his relationship, it was about our children. I stiffened my back, and tried my hardest to say what needed to be said.

"Okay, I'll accept that. But next time, consider your children, okay? And me too. Do you think we want to see you like that? Especially them, Brock. They've been through enough hell already. Are you honestly going to put them through more?" That got to him. It broke my heart watching him stare at the ground, and I stopped. He had heard enough. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked quietly. He hadn't heard me so sympathetic since before we were divorced. But of course I care about him. I always have.

"I don't think I can." He chuckled, but it was obviously fake, used to ease the tension.

"I'll bet you can."

"Nah, I'm alright Red." He wasn't alright. He stood from the chair. "It was just a hard night." It was more than a hard night. He started walking towards the door. "But, I'm not going to do it again, okay?" He was going to do it again. He said goodbye, thanked me for my concern, and left.

I know my Brock. I have him figured out- always have, always will. There was something he wasn't telling me, and I was dying to know what it was. But, prying it from him would be no good. So, I went back to my Tweebas (Tweets..Reba..Cute huh?) and tried to forget about it all.

6:00 came quicker than expected, and to my luck there wasn't much traffic on the way home. I pulled into the drive, and walked in to find my family in the kitchen, doing what I find them doing every day when I come home from work. Kyra was doing her homework at the table, Jake was playing with Elizabeth, Cheyenne was trying, and failing, to make spaghetti, and Van was encouraging her to stop before she gave the whole family food poisoning.

"Oh Ms.H, thank God your here! Now Cheyenne won't have to cook for us!" Van yelled, causing a death glare from Cheyenne.

"Shut up, Van."

I sat down my purse and went to where she had started to cook, hoping I could fix her mess in time. Luckily, I could.

"How was everyone's day?" I asked. It came with a detailed response from everyone at once, except Kyra, who is a teenager, therefore isn't required to speak to me. I tried to listen and answer everyone the best I could. Eventually, dinner was ready and we all sat down and ate. I had to break up a few food fights, but other than that, everything turned out fairly well. Everyone helped clean up, and then went their separate ways to bed. Elizabeth ran up and gave me a goodnight kiss, then followed Van up the stairs dragging her teddy bear behind. You're Gonna Be flashed through my head, and reminded me of the time I found out Cheyenne was pregnant. Soon afterwards I found that song, and knew I had to record it. 'Sometimes bad is good, we just have to believe things work out like they should'. Somehow tonight, I found myself feeling very blessed. That is, until big-blonde-bimbo barged in my back door.

"Hey Reba! Long time no see!" I talked to her two days ago. But I went with it.

"Barbra Jean, I thought that surely when you and Brock got divorced, you'd find it even more awkward than before to come around here."

"And miss seeing my best friend? Pa-lease, Reebs." She giggled at herself for some-what rhyming, and I rolled my eyes. I went to clean the counter, and she sat on the bar stool, looking at me, expecting me to say something.

"What do you want, Barbra Jean?" She was just sitting there, and already annoying the heck out of me.

"I don't know. It's just, me and you never have any alone time. So, I thought maybe we can talk for a while. Do you have any love interest at the moment?" Why did she always go there?

"I don't know why you even ask me anymore. I rarely do, and if I did I wouldn't tell you." I mumbled, more focused on a stain that wouldn't come off rather than her.

"Okay, alright. I know. I do have to talk to you, though. It's kind of serious." That got my attention.

"What is it?"

"Well, with Brock drinking-"

"Barbra Jean, I don't know any more than you do. He's a mysterious man, and sometimes you just can't question him. It takes a lot to really get a good answer from him. He's not very good with his feelings, you know?" I didn't want to talk about this. At all. He wasn't my concern anymore. Right?

"I know, Reba. It's just that.. He's been doing this for so long.. I mean, as long as I've known Brock he's had problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since I met him, I could tell he wasn't right. We was always just... sad. And so serious about everything. Even after he started taking happy pills, it didn't seem like much had changed. Sometimes, when we first started living together, I'd walk in the room and he'd be sitting on the bed almost in tears with a bottle of Vodka in his hands. He does it all the time, I know he does. He's just really good at hiding it. Except when it gets bad. Like the other night.."

"Who told you?" Was all I could think to say at that point. I wanted her to answer, and I wanted to hear the rest of her story. Knowing Barbra Jean, I knew she'd do both.

"Kyra. She still talks to me a lot. It always makes me feel important when she comes to me with her problems." It makes me feel like crap. "But anyways. One time I actually found him in tears, holding a photo. He never let me see it though. I just think it's weird.. you know? That's part of the reason I agreed when he suggested the divorce. I feel like he's hiding so much. How did you deal with it?" I was so confused. Some of my confusion came from how serious Barbra Jean was being. I'd never seen her like that. The rest of it came from what she was saying. Brock? Problems? Was his drinking worse that I thought? And I remember the happy pills... But I always thought he was being dramatic. I never imagined he actually needed them. And crying? Brock crying? No, the man she was describing wasn't my Brock. But also, the man who left me for her wasn't my Brock. My Brock would never do that to me. Something must have happened to him. And with every part of me, I wanted to know what it was.

"Well, I never had to deal with it. Brock was never like that when we were married." I tried to sound casual.

"Really?" She was almost shocked.

"Yes, really. I've known him all of my life-The real Brock, that is. But he's turned into someone else. I'm just sorry you had to see that part of him. The him I knew was really something special." I knew I had said too much when I saw Barbra Jean's eyebrows rise at my comment.

"Do you ever miss him?"

"Whoa, Barbra Jean. I'm not having this conversation. Especially with you." I said as I put away my cleaning supplies. I tried to hide how surprised I was by her question.

"You can tell me, Reba. I know you must sometimes."

"Barbra Jean, enough! I am doing just fine on my own, thank you."

"I didn't say you weren't doing fine on your own. I know you are. I just asked if you missed him, that's all." She said, twirling her finger through her hair.

"Well, the answer is no. Now Barbra Jean, it's getting late-"

"But, you know he's still there for you, right? I mean, if you were to ever need him."

That caught me off guard. "What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"I'm just saying, Reba. Van told me about what happened a few months ago at your show in Arizona."

What? Why would he tell her about that? It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything. A crazy fan had snuck backstage, and came running at me when he found me in my dressing room. He meant to just hug me, but I guess he was overwhelmed. The security guards claimed he 'attacked me', and went as far as to tell me children that too! The whole situation was stupid and over dramatized.

"What does that have to do with any thing? It wasn't anything big. Plus, stuff like that happens all the time. I've been doing this for years, you know."

"I know, and that's my point. Just know that if anything were to get out of hand, the part of Brock that is overly-crazily-almost-scarily protective over you is always there." I didn't know what to say. Hearing this, especially from her, was very unexpected. "He's always going to keep you safe, okay?" And that's when it hit me. Those words that haunted the air in my dream, and lingered down into my mind all day, enough in the light for me to know they're there, but not enough for me to make out what they were. Until Barbra Jean repeated them.

I passed off the subject, and after a few kind words, and then some not so kind ones, Barbra Jean finally got the point that it was too late for this. She went home to the apartment she was staying in until her new house was finished, and I treaded upstairs. I checked my phone, and was relieved to see nothing new from John. Hopefully he was just looking for some late night fun, and ended up finding someone else to keep him satisfied for a few months. Surely he's forgotten about me.

But as I ran my bath water and began to soak in it's warmth, new thoughts entered my mind. What was going on with Brock? What's been going on with Brock?

I was able to push his words from my dream away by distracting myself with the conversation with Barbra Jean. But now that it was silent, no matter how hard I tried to push them away, they kept coming back. "I'm always going to keep you safe, okay?" I chuckled to myself. It was ironic, really. I heard that promise from the past echo in my mind right as I was beginning the most terrifying point in my life. I could have been safe that night. I could have been saved at any moment. Brock could have kept his promise, and could have saved me not only from John, but from all of the baggage he left with me. So, where was my protector in the time I needed him most? He was off screwing another woman, that's where.