Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! It's been a crazy month. I kind of got burnt out, by rushing to make the update for the 4th and I didn't even make it. I just closed on my house, so I'm in the midst of moving and my son is starting school next week. But I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. I'm not crazy about this, but it got surprisingly long.

Thanks to Idcam, Morrowsong, and Ember for the reviews! You all rock. Seriously.

Once Jeremiah had learned of Heather's unscheduled reprieve from her grueling agenda, he promptly canceled his plans the day following her return home to call on her. He was relieved when Sara answered the front door. "Hi, Jeremiah," she smiled sweetly.

"Hey, Mrs. Calaway," he paused as if waiting for someone else to make their presence known. "I came to see Heather," he continued somewhat nervously.

The boy's hesitance gave her a slight chuckle. "You're fine. Mark is not here. He left out again already." She knew her husband was an intimidating figure for most people, so she wasn't surprised that he'd be hesitant to come to visit if Mark were around. She had told Mark to behave and treat the boy kindly, but most times he let his cantankerous attitude get the best of him.

Sara's words eased his apprehension. He usually played it pretty cool, but Mark was one giant dude and quite frankly scared the shit out of him with the way he was always scowling and grumbling like an ogre straight out of a game of Dungeons and Dragons.

"Well, come on in," Sara chirped, motioning him inside and closing the door behind him. "Heather's in the den."

"Thanks," Jeremiah grinned and nodded in appreciation, heading deeper into the house towards where he knew the den was. He found Heather stretched out on the couch, her injured ankle wrapped in a compress and propped on a throw pillow. He noticed the clunky book in her hands. "You mean you aren't addicted to daytime TV yet? Was sure I'd find you here, watching Jerry Springer or People's Court. You aren't into soaps like my Nan, are you?"

Heather tentatively looked up from Atlas Shrugged. Closing the book, she grinned broadly at her friend, eyes twinkling. "I have not yet been afforded such revelries. I predict I may very well succumb to the enticing lure of such exotic spectacles."

"Hey, you've been working on your sarcasm," he beamed, moving into the room.

"I am in possession of a few excellent tutors," Heather said, surprisingly coy.

"Well damn. Listen to you."

Heather flushed wondering momentarily if she wasn't being too brash.

"How's that ankle of yours?" Jeremiah continued, seemingly not too fazed. "I taped the show and watched it over. Looked gnarly," he commented as he took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

Heather dubiously took him in for a moment. "Am I correct in hypothesizing that your empathy stems from you capitalizing on my plight?"

"Snow. I'm surprised at you," her friend responded, feigning offense. "Are you trying to insinuate that I'm happy this happened to you?"

Heather blanched. "I certainly wouldn't put it in those terms…"

"Well this will make me sound like a douche, but yeah. I'm sorry you're hurt. It sucks. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I am happy to see you," he admitted, which gave Heather an ambiguous expression. "But I'll sit here with you for weeks watching trash TV if you want," he offered sheepishly.

That released a small titter from the dark-haired girl as she rolled her eyes. "Do spare me the anguish please," she pleaded, then went on to say, "I have been privy to enough happenings behind the curtains of World Wrestling Entertainment to supply me for a lifetime." Heather paused a moment. It hadn't even been a full day and the realization of how greatly she felt alleviated being at home as opposed to the helter-skelter lifestyle of the wrestling industry settled over her. She almost wished she could resign from her role, although she assumed that wouldn't make her father or Mr. McMahon pleased in the slightest. She questioned why the supposition even emerged from her thoughts with any consequences.

"Those are some funky-looking flowers in that vase right there," Jeremiah stated, pulling Heather from her ponderings.

"Iris germanica or commonly known as bearded Iris." Heather turned to where the vase was sitting on the side table located between the end of the couch she was sitting on and an armchair. She smiled fondly as the memory of receiving the florals tugged at her heart. Until she regained some mobility, Heather would be spending the lion's share of her time on the first story of the home as scaling up and down the stairs would prove strenuous for her. Sara thought they were lovely and proceeded to put them in the vase of water for Heather and placed them in the den when she had arrived home.

"You know flowers too?" Her friend asked still somewhat shocked by the array of subjects she dabbled in.

"I've studied some botany, yes." Now it was Heather's turn to be sheepish.

"Snow, you're something else. I mean that in the most adorable way possible," he added after he saw her lovely face creased by a frown.

Heather noticed her face grow warm. "Oh, Miah. You don't have to say those things," she muttered, not certain of what else to say.

"Why not, if it's true?" Jeremiah questioned with a bit of a chuckle to his voice.

Heather silently cursed the heat in her cheeks and she had this peculiar sort of sensation in the pit of her stomach. She had never quite felt this odd in Jeremiah's presence since the night they had first met. Then she remembered when Kevin had told her that Jeremiah had a particular romantic interest in her and she wondered how he was aware of such things. On Kevin's authority, Sean had felt the same. Did Jeremiah in fact feel that sentiment as well? Her cheeks burned. It wasn't something she wanted to entertain - at least she could not without feeling conflicted- therefore, she changed the subject. "H-have you ever seen The Fellowship of the Ring film?" she questioned hastily.

Kevin sat staring vacantly at his half-empty pint of beer. While he certainly enjoyed a good ale, over the last year or so he had become quite the connoisseur of wine. But of course, you didn't drink fucking Cabernet in front of the boys. He tried to shake his thoughts (or lack thereof) free. His choice of drink obviously wasn't what had his mind wandering while he was in his own company. Shawn tried to avoid these places now that he was a good boy. He didn't like thinking of it like that like he was mocking his sobriety, but nothing was the same anymore.

Kid, who should have been right beside him, was barely talking to him these days. He found it curious that as much as Kid would simper over Heather, he had no problem scoring pussy from a rat that was hanging around outside the arena. Perhaps it was due to the fact that when Kid was being particularly annoying, Kevin had let it slip that Heather didn't give two shits about him in the way he thought. Kevin hadn't intended on hurting his friend like that, but when the words came out, he secretly took delight in bursting his bubble. Naturally, Kid didn't believe him, but why should he have? It wasn't like he could confess to being some sort of item with her when in reality he knew they were far from such a thing. Skepticism still didn't hinder Kid from asking how he knew, to which he didn't have an answer. Kevin hadn't thought that far ahead, allowing Kid to call bullshit on him and he left it there.

Swiping up the beer mug, Kevin took in a large swig although he didn't particularly even want it. He loved having Shawn back. He had been in love with that motherfucker since day one, but he missed Scott something fierce. On the bright side, Scott was sounding pretty good when he had talked to him the day before yesterday and that was the important thing. If he could get better, maybe just maybe, he could earn his job back. Then if they could get their friend Paul Levesque to join them, the band would be back together. He smiled half-heartedly. Wishful thinking he supposed.

His hand still on the mug, Kevin stared into the amber liquid again. Something else was needling at him. He was feeling the little one's absence more than he'd like to admit. He'd been trying to ignore it for the past week and a half, but it had dug its way under his skin. She had wormed her way inside of him, utterly oblivious to the effect she had on him. He recalled the look of surprise on her face and her gracious appreciation when he had given her the irises. Something that was, in reality, so simple seemed to enchant her.

A slight smile curved his mouth as he thought about what happened next. When she had let him kiss her a second time, she was taken back in her timid and unassuming manner. Miraculously, that time she hadn't shied away. In fact, she had leaned in, almost pressing against him. Had it not been for the obstruction from her crutches he would have drawn her into his embrace. He could positively feel her need for affection, even as she tried to bury it.

Kevin wondered when the last time Mark had even hugged that girl was. She was so endearing. How could someone not want to love her the way she deserved? And would it have killed Mark to show a level of concern above being suspicious that someone was trying to pull the wool over his eyes?

Next, a blonde approached the seat beside him in a seemingly nonchalant manner. She was behaving coyly, not bothering to speak or even look in his direction. Here we fucking go, he thought picking up the beer and bringing it to his lips. He'd seen this a million times.

Kevin gave her a glance over while she ordered some fruity cocktail from the bartender. She was hot, he'd give her that. They always were - well, most of them anyway. He studied her more focused this time. She sensed his eyes on her and turned her head, greeting him with a demure smile, "Hey there, handsome. See something you like?"

"Why are you still staring at him like you wanna rip off his head and shit down his neck?" Glenn asked Mark. He was watching his friend stare daggers through Nash from their table on the other side of the bar. Mark had been wearing an ugly sneer all night. It was the same expression that had been plastered on his face for the last two weeks, anytime he had seen Nash.

"Do you really need to ask, Jacobs?" the auburn-haired man barked.

"Oh Christ," Glenn said, rolling his eyes at the other man. "Don't you think you're overreacting, just a bit?"

"How the hell should I be reacting then?" Mark demanded.

"I don't know. Maybe a little fucking grateful?" Glenn suggested, "I mean he did risk his ass with Vince to help your injured kid…"

"He had Michaels to cover his ass," Mark groused disdainfully.

Glenn could tell that was a cop-out for the real issue in Mark's mind. "Look man, Heather is a very pretty girl-" Mark's head snapped to the side with a glower in his eyes. "Jesus Christ man. Don't vaporize me with that glare. It's an innocent observation. You can ask just about anyone and they'll say the same thing. But look at that broad," Glenn stated, canting his head in the direction of the blonde flirting with Nash, who was talking to her in his usual animated fashion. He was either regaling a story from the road or telling some other joke as the woman threw her blonde hair back. As she laughed at his words, a hand came to rest on his forearm. "I was saying, look. There is no way he would be even remotely interested in Heather," Glenn continued. "I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it," he corrected himself as Mark's eyes grew colder.

"How did you mean it then?" Mark inquired in a sharp tone.

"Hey man, don't make me out to be the bad guy here. All I'm saying is, I highly doubt that Heather would tickle his fancy if you know what I mean? If anything he's probably just nice to her so you won't kick his ass."

Mark narrowed his eyes at the other giant. "Are you a fucking idiot? Didn't you see the way he ran down there like he was trying to be some knight in shining armor?"

"That may be, but I also saw that your daughter needed help and no one was around to help her."

"Are you trying to suggest that I don't give a fuck?" There was a booming accusation to Mark's voice.

Glenn shook his head, "Of course not. Remember though, she's still a kid. Don't you think you're letting Vince put too much pressure on her at such a young age?" he asked. Glenn looked at the pair on the other side of the bar. The blonde man was leaning into the woman, whispering something in her ear, then giving her that arrogant smirk of his. Before Mark could reply his friend commented, "Looks to me like your daughter is the furthest thing from his mind."

Mark stared at them with narrowed eyes. "So was his wife, most nights," he grumbled as if he was somehow holier than thou.

Glenn was sure to call him out on it too. "Well, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh like you're so fucking innocent," Mark shot back.

"No, I'm not, but I have the good sense to stop when things get too hairy – no pun intended there. Speaking of wives, I'm going to turn in. I promised Crystal, I'd call her before I fall asleep. Are you calling Sara? Have you talked to Heather? How is she doing, anyway?"

Mark narrowed his eyes at the barrage of questions. "She's fine, I guess. I tried a couple of times. She was either with that damn Jeremiah kid or she wouldn't talk and Sara wouldn't make her get on the phone. That woman babies her too damn much," Mark groused in frustration. He paused when he heard the other man laugh in his throaty voice "What's so damn funny?"

"Nothing. It's just the way you said 'that damn Jeremiah kid', remembering the way you wigged out on the poor kid for no good reason. You don't trust anyone around Heather. But you know, you can't keep her locked in a tower forever. That boy is good for her and she seems to like him a lot too. So you should really stop obsessing over Nash. It's getting a little creepy, quite frankly." Glenn patted his shoulder before leaving the bar for the night.

Mark sat there, stewing in his thoughts as he observed Nash with the woman. Glenn was not wrong. Nash had always had a very specific type and anyone rarely ever saw him stray from that. The broad beside him fit the letter to a T. Bleach blonde hair, fake and bake tan, ridiculously huge tits that looked like they'd pop like water balloons if you squeezed too hard. She probably had an expensive manicure done and from what Mark could see, she was wearing about ten pounds of makeup which meant she was probably a real scag underneath it all.

Sure, Mark wanted his woman to look good, but he didn't get these prissy types that were always obsessed with their hair and nails, what designer they were wearing, and all that pointless shit. Who gave a fuck if it was Calvin Kline when it looked better on the floor anyway? Those types did nothing but annoy him personally. He supposed he preferred the tomboy type. Someone who didn't mind when he watched ESPN and would actually watch with him and had an idea of what was going on and wasn't afraid to get on the back of a bike.

Kevin glanced at the half-drunken chick beside him. She was fine. He couldn't lie to himself about that and she was definitely ready to go. Even while her company had annoyed him at first, it was like cutting a promo, so easy to slip into character after all these years. It was second nature to him and he could easily take this hottie to bed. So what was stopping him? Only the thought of that little nymph barely over five feet tall, with ebony black hair and shimmering emerald eyes.

She wasn't there. It wasn't like she would ever know. Yet, every time he entertained the thought of hooking up with this chick, he could see the little one's shocked and disgusted expression so clearly in his mind. What had she turned him into? Talk about being a chump. She wasn't even present and she still managed to cockblock him.

He recognized the irony of the situation. If he had this much conviction two or three years ago, he'd probably still be married. Then he stopped to wonder, if he was, would he still feel the same attraction towards the little one? Would he allow himself to desire her as he did right now? To touch her? To kiss her?

He felt like he would and a momentary sense of guilt settled over him. That wouldn't be fair to his once wife or the little one. He shook off the thought. His marriage had been over for two years now. There was no use in brooding over that. The question that remained was this woman in front of him now.

Mark watched the woman giggle near Nash's ear as his hand came to rest on the small of her back. She was looking rather tipsy, if not borderline smashed. This was the part where she was telling him she'd let him do anything he wanted to - or if she was really a freak, he could stick it wherever he wanted to. Taking her hand, Nash helped her off the barstool, and Mark's eyes followed them to the exit.

Mark had to laugh at himself in a sense. He never imagined giving a flying fuck where Nash got his jollies from and he was starting to feel like a jackass for perhaps jumping to these outlandish conclusions. Nash had his ideal ten right in front of him and his shy, mousey daughter definitely didn't fit the bill. Maybe Glenn was right after all. Maybe he just didn't want anyone near her. Hell no. Why would he? He didn't want her ending up like him and Sara, with a whole gang of kids before barely getting out of high school.

That didn't mean that he was going to forget about what happened or be any less wary. Nash was still a hot-blooded male, full of lust. Being a man himself, he knew most guys would, in reality, fuck just about anything with a pulse. And he knew from experience that Nash could be shady. Therefore, he still didn't trust him as far as he could throw him. Hell, had that been Glenn running down there to whisk her away that night, he would have reacted in the same manner – mostly.

The woman didn't take too kindly to Kevin telling her that it wasn't happening and asked her where he could drop her off. After some incomprehensible insults, the woman began to stagger back into the bar. Luckily, her friends seemed to be exiting and at least one of them seemed to have her faculties about her, the reluctant designated driver. After seeing that she was in good hands with her girlfriends, Kevin headed to his own rental.

Kevin had been aware of Mark observing him half the damn night. Despite his back having been turned towards him the majority of the time, he could feel the other man's glare burning into him. Had Mark had a gun, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to shoot him in the back. He had been behaving in that manner ever since their confrontation over the little one. It was almost exclusively for that reason Kevin left with the woman even though he had no intentions of following through to sleep with her. Better Mark think that he did, when in reality he had gone back to his hotel alone, to jack his dick like a damn sapsucker. But oh boy, would Daddy Calaway go ape shit if he knew all the things Nash imagined doing to that little girl of his.

Weeks had passed and if Jeremiah wasn't working for his dad's business, he spent the majority of his waking hours with Heather, keeping her company until she slowly started to recover more and more. After Heather had managed short walks around the house and up and down the stairs, they began to venture out places, like taking Jazzy to the movies and the local observatory.

Jeremiah's dad teased him as he was headed out the door to Heather's house that evening, "Are you moving in there, Papi? I'm surprised I don't see all your stuff packed."

"I just want to be there to keep her company," he said with a sheepish grin. "It's gotta be the pits being stuck at home with no one to hang out with."

"You are a fine young man, mijo. Remember, you don't have to be afraid to bring her around, you know."

"I will, once she's more comfortable," Jeremiah promised.

"Yeah, you know, we'd like to see our future daughter-in-law sometime. How else will she get comfortable?" Hector goaded playfully.

"Aye, Papi," Jerimiah groaned in mortification.

"Yeah, your future wife!" Jazzy chimed in from the kitchen. Nonetheless, it had now become more excitement than mocking. She would love it if Heather could become her big sister.

"Hush yourself now, young lady," Angelique told her with a firm gentleness. "And you," she addressed her husband as she appeared in the foyer, "get in there and finish making the salad. You know I can't chop the lettuce like you. And quit torturing your son," she warned him with a playful swat. "No wonder he's reluctant to bring the girl around."

"Oh man, I better go. I don't want my nightly beating early," Hector quipped before disappearing, gaining a chuckle from both his wife and his son.

Angelique rolled her eyes at her husband then turned to Jeremiah. "The show ends at eleven. Remember I want you home by eleven-thirty," she reminded him.

"Yes, ma'am," Jeremiah responded

"Oh, and thank Sara for that banana bread recipe, will you?"

Jeremiah nodded. "Will do," he said before heading out the door.

Keeping up with WWE programming over the last few weeks that Heather had been sidelined, the friends had made a ritual of Jeremiah coming over so they could view each episode together. At this time, July had officially been welcomed with an edition of Raw and the pair were sitting together in the den, watching on the oversized television.

Since meeting Heather, Jeremiah had taken much interest in the wrestling industry and become quite invested in the storylines. Like any fan, he had developed a handful of favorites. He had grown particularly fond of the high-flying maneuvers of Team Extreme and it was totally awesome that he had gotten to meet them.

They were both looking forward to tonight's main event which would see Jeff Hardy challenging The Undertaker for a shot at the Undisputed Championship – and in a ladder match, no less! While the stipulation would historically give Jeff the upper hand, Heather was already aware that Taker was going to go over and retain his title. Nevertheless, she was still so very proud of Jeff for getting the push.

Over the past few weeks, the pair had been busting up at the ongoing antics of Goldust as he heckled member of Heather's own stable. On this particular night, he had elected to dawn a full Darth Vader costume. They both released a gasp when Goldust cracked a plastic lightsaber over The Big Show's head after quoting the famous "I am your father," line from The Empire Strikes Back. No sooner than Goldust turned around though, there was Nash.

Cheeks growing warm, Heather's heart would stop, then start again, hammering against her ribcage each time that she had the privilege of looking upon him through the television. She had been grateful for the opportunity to do so for even a few minutes each week. This moment had been no different apart from a peculiar sensation that came over her when she heard his bass voice utter the words, "Yeah, and I'm your daddy!" before delivering a blow that sent Goldust reeling. Heather felt her face flare as she observed Nash laying into Goldust.

Some time had passed and Nash and Michaels were now in the ring to confront Big Show after Nash had threatened consequences if he lost his match. Nash delivered a punch to Show. Returning the sentiment, Show connected with Nash's jaw causing him to stagger backward a little, but he was otherwise unfazed. Kevin looked so strong. He is strong, Heather thought, yet astonishingly gentle. Her face exploded in a burst of color. She wondered if Jeremiah had ever taken notice of her reactions which must be all too apparent, but he seemed fixed on what was transpiring on the screen.

Grabbing a large throw pillow from beside her, Heather hugged it close as if she were attempting to muffle the pounding in her chest that was echoing like a drum beat. After thwarting the two goliaths from tearing one another apart, Shawn went on with another promo about Triple H joining the nWo. Then, with Nash's aid, Show found himself the unfortunate recipient of a Super Kick from Michaels.

Biting her lip, Heather partially hid her face behind the pillow. She fought the wide grin stretching across her mouth as she witnessed the raucous merriment of Nash and Michaels as they were all too proud of themselves for showing their comrade what they deemed to be a little "tough love". Heather gazed upon Kevin's charming grin and her breath hitched. Still, she did feel sympathy for Paul's character.

The show went to commercial and Heather shifted her body slightly in her seat. It wasn't until then that she realized how close she and Jeremiah were as they sat with their hips together, thighs touching. Heather turned towards her friend, curious as to whether he had noticed as well. When onyx eyes met green, Heather found herself regretting her curiosity as she wasn't certain why she had questioned it at any rate.

"Snow, are you okay? You're blushing," Jeremiah asked with an intrigued smile. "Aww, you're so cute. What's up?" he chuckled as he tapped the tip of her nose.

The heat radiated from her cheeks as she clutched the giant pillow and she turned away. What was the matter with her? He was going to think she was some type of weirdo. "It's nothing. I..." She mumbled unsure of what to say.

He gave her an unconvinced look but followed it up with a grin. "Are you sure it's nothing?"

"Yes." But it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Suddenly, Jeremiah pinched her side jokingly, causing her to yelp. With an uncontrolled reflex, she swatted at him with the plush pillow. Heather stared wide-eyed at him with the incredulity of her own actions. She gasped when he yanked the pillow from her grasp, tossing it aside. He then proceeded to playfully attack her midsection, tickling her mercilessly.

"M-miah!...Stop, stoooppp…Pl-please!...Miaaahhh" Heather pleaded breathlessly between fits of laughter as she attempted in vain to shove his hands away. "Ookay, okay. I surrender! I surrender!" Squirming away from him, she huffed out, her lungs beginning to burn as she gulped for air.

Jeremiah continued his onslaught, cackling just as hard as her. Heather felt herself falling away and he seemed to follow her as they both tumbled to the floor. Jeremiah's body fell over hers, faces lining up as his mouth appeared to hover dangerously close to her own.

Realizing this, Heather flew into a panic. "No, w-we can't…I can't," she blurted out as she pushed against Jeremiah's chest forcing him off of her. Once she was free from underneath him, she scrambled up, pulling herself back onto the sofa, and sat down. She turned away from her friend, but not before she witnessed The bewilderment on his face, the guilt sets in. "Miah, I can't. I just can't. I'm so very sorry," she whispered, shaking her head and turned to gaze at him.

He was perplexed, if not a touch deflated perhaps. "Snow-" he started slowly, but she interrupted him.

"I'm so sorry, Miah. Really, I am. You are my dearest friend. I care for you ever so deeply. It's just…I don't believe I could esteem you in that way that you seem to desire so palpably," her chest ached once she finished and tears were developing in her glassy eyes.

Jeremiah silently studied her for a few moments, eyes fixed on her in pure bewilderment. "Snow," he repeated his endearment for her, then paused a moment, "I'm gay."

"You're…" Dumbfounded, Heather's doe eyes gaped at him. "Oh my Gosh. I am so stupid," she lamented, dropping her head into her hands.

A frown marred Jeremiah's handsome face, his spirits evidently crushed by her astounded reaction. Perhaps he had made a mistake in revealing such an intimate detail about himself? He thought Heather was someone he could trust, but maybe not.

Heather cursed herself for her unfounded assumptions. Goodness, what a fool she was. There she was, thinking her dearest friend in the world had revered her in some romantic fashion when nothing could be further from the truth. She had never even entertained the notion until a certain someone had told her so. The great endearing oaf. There was no rejecting her friend because he could never care for her in such a manner.

The usually demure girl grinned broadly. "Miah," she said his nickname, followed by a giggle. "Oh Miah, that's absolutely delightful!" she cried with elation as she threw her arms around his neck.

Jeremiah released a sigh of relief; a breath he didn't know he was holding as he embraced her as well. "Wow, you're happier about this than I am. That was so damn scary. You're the first person I've ever told."

"Please do forgive me for my indiscretion of presuming that you were quite taken with me in anything but a platonic manner," Heather implored with a sense of shame. "Pardon me. You stated I am the first individual you have told. Are your father and mother unaware?"

"I haven't told them, no," Jeremiah admitted her sounding disheartened. "You hear how they talk. They think we are practically married. How could I tell them that the son they are so proud of is a huge disappointment and embarrassment?"

Taken back, Heather's jaw went slack, mouth almost gaping. She had never heard Jeremiah speak of himself in such a disparaging nature. He possessed higher esteem than most individuals she had ever known. Mr. and Mrs. De Sanchez were undoubtedly some of the most caring and supportive persons Heather had the privilege to be acquainted with. There was absolutely no chance that they could be anything but loving and accepting towards their son. When Heather voiced this, Jeremiah agreed, despite seeming somewhat reluctant to say so.

Heather took his hand. "If you wish, I could be there whenever you decide to tell them. If you are comfortable and in your own time, of course. You are their son and they will love you unconditionally," Heather announced in an assuring tone, but smiled shyly, praying she didn't come across as too forward.

"Thanks, Snow. I'd like that. But I don't think I'm ready yet."

Heather nodded. "I understand," she said, softly.

Jeremiah wasn't one to be overly emotional in that sense, but he could almost feel the tears threatening to fall. It was hard to keep a secret like this to himself for so long and it was beginning to eat away at him. However, it was like a brick had been lifted off his chest. He thought of how lucky he was to find Heather sitting on that swing in the Bedson's backyard, eternally grateful that their paths had crossed that night.

JR's overexaggerated shouting on commentary had brought their attention towards the television. They had missed the entire main event that night. With the match having concluded and Undertaker retaining his title, it appeared he had now set about making an example of young Jeff Hardy. Hardy would not go down, however. He screamed in a hoarse voice that he was still standing. Taker then returned to the ring to seemingly deliver more punishment. Instead, he shocked everyone by raising the hand of the young daredevil in an unforeseen display of respect.

A few minutes following the conclusion, Sara entered the room to remind, Jeremiah that he was to be home in less than thirty minutes. Jeremiah nodded politely and thanked her before she left again.

"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning," Heather stated apprehensively. She was to learn whether the doctor would clear her to travel once again. In truth, it was something she was dreading rather than anticipating. "Following that, my mother wishes to take me shopping," she groaned as if she were to be subjected to a host of medieval torture devices and not simply the trying on of garments.

Jeremiah chuckled at her. "I'm working with my dad most of the day tomorrow anyway."

"Is Jazzy's softball game still Wednesday afternoon?"

"Yep."

"Will you still be picking me up?" Heather asked hesitantly.

Her friend's bright smile reassured her. "Of course. I'll see ya later, Snow."

As he turned away to leave Heather called after him, "Miah." He stopped and looked back at her. "Remember, I'm here for you whenever you need me." She blushed in spite of herself.

The sight made the boy grin. "I know."

That was quite the revelation from our boy, Jeremiah.

Kev and Heather will reunite next chapter. I will try not to have you all waiting too long!