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-Chapter 15-

The long road stretched out in front of us, solely lit by the headlights of Brock's truck. The only sound that could be heard was the old, worn out heater on full blast.

I snuggled my legs close to my body under the blanket, and then looked over to Brock. His face was stern, like always, and focused on the road. His stiff arms led to white-knuckled hands clutching the steering wheel. It seemed like he was thinking so hard that he didn't notice me, so I continued to stare at him. Who is this man? I thought to myself. Does he care enough about me to wake up in the middle of the night and drive in the freezing cold to the middle of nowhere? Just for me? If this man sitting next to me is my Brock, then there's no doubt about it. But that was the thing that had me stuck- Who is he? Was he the Brock that I loved deeply all of my life, and that loved me back with a kind of love I have never felt before? Or was he the man that took over one night when he decided he wasn't satisfied with me anymore? Either way, I seemed to be mesmerized by his face. Something drew me to it. It seemed so new to me, yet it seemed like home. I felt comforted looking at him; I felt security and sanity, two things I haven't felt in a long time.

I gazed at his profile, with just enough light casted on it for me to make out his features; His stern jaw, his tight lips, his perfectly shaped nose that led up to his eyes that crinkled around the corners. He was such a serious man, and I'm sure many would be scared of him if they had never met him before. But I've always loved that about him. It made me feel safe. He was never good with speaking about his feelings, but throughout the years he made it obvious that he cared a tremendous amount for me, and would put his life on the line if it meant saving mine. It could have been the way he would tense up and rush to my side if he thought I was in danger. Or maybe the way he would find an excuse to brush his fingers along my face, staring into my eyes with tears forming in his, and turning away just before they fell. Or maybe the way we'd spend long nights together, our bodies a tangled mess, making love so sweetly that I never knew it was possible to feel that way. Yes, maybe it was the way he'd rub his hands tenderly over my body while staring into my eyes. I remembered the feeling of him lifting my body up gently, kissing me softly, and then laying me back down as he whispered sweet words in my ear and proved to me just how much I meant to him. Never once had he threatened me, bruised me, slapped me, or cursed at me the way John had.

Brock sighed, and then caught me looking at him. His anger and stiffness subsided when his eyes met mine. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us talking, but I felt as if our eyes said it all. Could he tell all of the things I was thinking about him? Could he sense the way I was looking at him? Was he thinking the same about me?

Finally Brock faced the road again, and took a deep breath, preparing to speak. "What's going on, Reba?"

I looked out the window. "A lot of things." I answered painfully. He sighed, probably knowing that I wouldn't tell him much.

"Please talk to me. You know you can trust me." He quietly said.

"Not anymore." I said, turning my back to him completely and looking out the window. I knew comments like that hurt him. They hurt me as well.

"Reba, no matter what has ever happened between us, I promised you I'd always keep you safe. And I meant it. I just want to protect you."

"Well you've done a shitty job, then." I said as tears formed in my eyes. My Brock was back, I just didn't know how long he'd stay. And honestly, I couldn't let myself give in to him, because the minute he left my heart would break all over again.

He took a deep breath, but didn't speak. We continued to travel slowly down the road. The tears were calmly rolling down my face, but they were silent as I stared at the dark passing scenery. I sniffled, and I knew Brock had looked over at me. He didn't say anything, but he pulled off to the side of the road. When the car stopped, I stayed in the same position, almost frozen, and closed my eyes tightly as the tears fell faster, making me shake.

"Hey," He said, reaching out and touching my shoulder, "Look at me."

"No." I mumbled, refusing to see him because I knew I'd cry even harder. I heard him unbuckle his seat belt and scoot to the middle seat. I slowly turned to him, but kept my eyes down.

"Reba…" He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. I looked up to see him making the face he made when he was in that situation. "I'm sorry." Was all he could come up with.

"It's not entirely your fault."

"Yes it is. All of it is." He said shamefully. I looked at him questionably to see the sadness draped across his features. I had never seen him so guilty in all of my life. "If I had been there for you, none of this would have happened."

I didn't respond; partially because it was true, and partially because somehow I felt bad for him. Instead, I reached out and put my hand on top of his. "It's fine. I'm okay, now." I forced a smile. Thank God he didn't buy it.

"Reba I know you." He responded. "And I hate that I've messed things up so badly that you can't trust me and open up to me like you used to." He didn't look at me when he talked.

I wanted to let him know so badly. I wanted to open up to him and cry into his arms. I wanted to tell him about all of the awful things John had done to me, and beg him to never leave my sight again. Then, I knew I'd be safe. But at the same time, John's words echoed through my head. "You tell Brock about what I do to you, I swear to God I'll be after your whole damn family!" Did he really mean that? Just the thought of him coming close to my family made me cringe. I could handle him hurting me, but if he went after my children I don't know what I'd do. No, I told myself, Now isn't the time to tell Brock. Don't even risk it.

I took a deep breath. "Listen, Brock. I'm so, so grateful that you came. It means a lot to me. And I feel like I owe you something for this. But… I just can't tell you what's going on. You don't need to be concerned- I have things under control," I lied. "But I just can't talk to you about it. Okay? I'm sorry. This isn't fair for you, and I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you. I know I at least owe you an explanation, but I'm afraid I can't give you one." I looked down.

"Reba, please just-"

"Brock, I can't!" I screamed, putting my face in my hands and sighing, annoyed. It was hard wanting to tell someone something so bad, but at the same time knowing you can't.

"Okay." He finally agreed. "But I'll get it out of you sooner or later, Reba." He said, sure of himself. "Whoever you're running from is never going to hurt you again, I promise you." He added, putting his other hand on top of mine, which still rested on his.

His words comforted me, but also made me ache. "Thank you so much." I said as I offered a small hug. He returned it, and squeezed me tightly. After pulling away, he looked at me one last time and then turned back to the wheel. It was silent a few seconds before he added softly, "You don't owe me anything, Reba." I could tell he had been thinking about it since I said it.

"Huh?" It wasn't that he was so quiet that I couldn't hear him, it was that I wondered how he could even say that- after all he had just done for me.

"Keeping you safe is what I'm here for. I'd drop everything if I knew you were in trouble. It's not something that needs to be repayed... It's my job. It always has been. Making sure you're safe is the reason I'm here." He sighed, and waited a second before speaking again. "The only reaoson." He added so quietly he sounded like a child.

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just know you don't owe me anything."

I thought for a second. "Thank you." I said, and then turned to face the window again, wondering about his comment. The rest of the ride home was silent.

I was sitting on my couch, feeling so proud of myself about getting away from John. I was watching Maury, and actually enjoying myself. Suddenly, I heard two loud bangs against the door. Surely he wouldn't do this again. I reassured myself. Although I didn't believe it, saying it made me feel better.

I slowly got up and walked to the door, trying to stay quiet and calm. I looked through the peep-hole and saw John's disoriented face. Every bit of calmness left, and I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep me from screaming.

"C'mon, Reba, your lights are on! I know you're in there. Open the damn door!" He yelled, and then pounded his fists on the door again. "Open up!" His voice growled.

I jumped away from the door and ran upstairs as fast as I could. I went into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. I crawled into my bed, and mentally made sure all of the doors were locked before pulling my legs to my chest and shaking.

The silence passed by in what felt like years. I could hardly breathe as I strained my ears to stay alert of even the smallest of sounds. Right as I was about to let my guard down, I heard the sound of a door knob being busted, and the back door being slammed open. My breath caught in my throat and my vision went blurry as fear filled my body. I wanted to hide. I wanted to get Brock's old gun from the room across the hall. I wanted to run. But I couldn't. I was petrified... paralyzed.

I didn't move when I heard him yell my name. I didn't move when I heard him throwing things down stairs. I didn't move when I heard his boots beat against each individual step up the staircase. I didn't move when I heard his footsteps on the same floor as me. But as I saw him pushing open my bedroom door, I jumped from the bed and I ran. But of course, I was too late.

As soon as he saw me, he sprinted into action. I ran towards the bathroom in my bedroom. Right as I yanked the door open and rushed inside, he grabbed it from me and held it open as I tried with all of my strength to close it.

"Please leave! Leave me alone!" I cried.

"No, dammit!" With those words, he used all of his strength and pushed the door open hard enough to hit me in the nose, making my vision go out for a second. I stumbled back, and fell on my bottom. It felt like he had broke my nose as blood dripped out and my eyes started watering. He walked in and grabbed me under my armpits, lifting me up to where my face was equal with his, and my feet wern't touching the ground.

"Who do you think you are?" He spit in my face.

"I-I hate you!" Tears were streaming down my face, and that was all I could think to say.

"I don't care, Reba! I'll be damned if you ever leave me like that again!" He threw me down, and I landed hard on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath.

"John, please." I backed up slowly as he walked towards me. My back hit my shower and I knew I couldn't go any farther. He kneeled down infront of me, and slapped me hard across the face. Tears were flowing freely now.

"Why do you do this to me?" I sobbed. "What did I do?"

"What did you do?" His eyes showed how crazy he truley was. "You left me!" He pulled my hair, dragging my face close to his. "Now you have two options." He spoke slowly and calmly, and I smelt whiskey on his breath. My head was throbbing and stinging from where he was yanking. "You either come home with me," He stated like it was the best idea ever, "Or we continue the night like this." He hit me again, although this time not as hard. "Which is it?"

I felt like my head was bleeding, and I could taste the blood from my nose in my mouth. My legs were numb, and my face was stinging as my tears amplified the horrible pain.

"I'll... I'll go home with you." Every bit of confidence in myself and in my strength left me as those words left my quivering mouth.

He let go of my hair, and I sighed in relief. "Okay, baby. Let's go." He gently lifted me off of the ground from under my arms, and even with his gentleness they stung from him lifting me earlier.

He held my hand, and helped me into the truck when we got outside. He rubbed my upper thigh, and leaned in to kiss my cheek tenderly. "You'll be okay." No I wouldn't.

We went to his house, and had the gentlest sex we had ever had. He kissed my wounds, and ran his finger over the curve of my nose, starting between my eyebrows and following my nose as it dipped down and then rose back up at the end.

I didn't enjoy it. I hated it in fact. I didn't bother to fake a smile as we laid there afterwards. I looked over at him, not hiding how I felt.

"Don't be mad at me." He said, still high on sex.

"You hurt me." I stated.

"It hurt me when you left me. You had it coming." He turned over and went to bed.

We hit a bump, and I was brought out of my memory. I looked over to see Brock driving, and then out the window to find the darkness outside. Finally realizing where I was, relief washed over me. I relaxed, until I realized what I had done. I had escaped twice, but he followed me home each time. What was stopping him from doing that again?

"Oh God." I said under my breath. My chest tightened and my fists clinched. Brock turned to me, somehow having heard me.

"What?" He asked frantically.

"Oh God." I leaned over in my seat, feeling like I was going to throw up. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" My hands were shaking as I pulled them up to my face.

Brock pulled over for the second time, but this time more quickly. "Reba? Reba?" He asked, yanking off his seatbelt and almost falling off of the seat because he moved to me so quickly. "What's wrong?" He grabbed my shoulders, and I jerked away from him. I pressed my back against the cold window and stared at him, my eyes wide in fear.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled.

"Reba!" He moved his hands away, but scooted close. "What has happened to you?"

"Oh God." I repeated, this time quietly. My muscles relaxed as I sank forward, falling into him. He caught me and put his arms around me as I laid my head on his shoulder. He rubbed his hands across my back, making me yearn for sincere tenderness.

"Please, please, tell me." He begged, his voice strained.

"I can't go home." Was all I could manage. I pulled off of him shakily and pulled myself together. "Please take me to a hotel. And don't ask why." I said, buckling my seatbelt and staring forward.

"You're staying at my house." He went back to the steering wheel, and pulled off quickly, leaving dust in the empty air behind us. I looked over to see his face painted with anger and his shaking, felxed hands on the wheel.

"Brock..."

"I'll kill the bastard." He drove quicker.

"Brock, be careful!"

"God I want him dead! He deserves to be!" He hit his hand hard on the steering wheel. It had been so long since I'd seen him like this.

"Just calm down and drop me off at the fancy hotel down town." I rubbed his shoulder, trying to prove that everything would be okay, although I knew it wouldn't be.

"You're staying at my house." He said once again. With the voice he used, I didn't argue. Part of me was actually relieved.

"Okay." I agreed, rubbing his shoulder one last time. He eased up a little.

We pulled into his house, and my legs were asleep from having them on the seat with me. I shook them around a little, and realized I still didn't have pants on as Brock came around my side of the truck. He must had seen my embarassment.

"I ain't looking." He said, keeping his eyes up.

I followed him quietly inside. We walked through the kitchen, and then into the living room, where I saw Kyra sleeping on the couch. I gasped.

"Brock!" I whisper-yelled. He turned around. "Why is she sleeping there? She's going to hurt her back!"

He walked up close to me so I could hear his whispers better. "She's does that. Even if I make her sleep upstairs she'll find her way down here. She's been different lately, Reba." He looked over to our sleeping daughter. "I just didn't think she'd do it tonight. When I left she was asleep in her bed." He walked over to her, and gently lifted her off of the couch. Kyra wasn't little anymore, and it suprised me how easily he held her. He walked with her upstairs, and I followed as he brought her into her room. He layed her on the bed, and pulled the covers across her. He didn't touch her, or kiss her, but he looked at her with eyes that only a father could have.

I let out a sound that sounded like a quick laugh as my heart was warmed by what I saw as I stood in the door way. Brock turned to me and smiled warmly. "C'mon." He said, and I followed him into the guest bedroom. "There's extra pillows and blankets in here," He patted the chest at the end of the bed, "and if you need anything, I'm in the next room."

"What are you going to tell the kids?" I sat on the suprisingly comfortable bed. "They can't know." I stated sternly.

"I'll just tell them that there were some crazy drunk fans around the property, so I told you that you could stay here to get away from them." He said understandingly.

I lifted the covers and slid my bare legs underneath. I was suprised to find Brock looking the other way. Any other man would have his eyes all over me. "Thank you Brock." I said, refering to so many different things.

"Of course." He said with a smile. "Do you want me to keep the bathroom light on?"

I chuckled. "No, I think I'll be alright."

"Okay, just checking." He said lightly. He walked to the door, and turned one last time. "Night, Reba." He said.

"Sweetdreams." I said, laying my head on the pillow and smiling. He returned the smile and closed the door softly. I sunk into the soft pillow and drifted off to sleep.