The Weekend

Chapter Fourteen

Brock sat on his couch with a beer in his hand and the game on the television. He tried to focus on the scene playing out in front of him, but all he could think about was Reba, what she was doing now and what she was thinking about. He tried so desperately to think about literally anything else, but somehow everything was connected to her. God, it was taking all of his self-control not to pick up the phone and call her right now. Better yet, walk over there and press her up against the wall and show her just how much he loves her.

Because lord, did he ever love that woman. And if he was a smart man, he never would've forgotten that six years ago when he was trapped in the operating room with his goofball of a wife.

He took a sip of his beer and ran his hand through his hair. What was he to do now?

"Daddy!" Henry shouted as he ran through the front door of their home and straight into Brock's lap.

"Careful there, buddy, we gotta protect that area." He said breathlessly as he recovered from a knee to the groin.

"Van taught me to swim!" Henry said into Brock's neck and he felt a pain in his heart at the idea of missing that moment.

"I wish I could've seen that, buddy."

"Me, too."

"Hey!" Barbara Jean said as she walked through the front door with her luggage in hand, setting it down and closing the door behind her. Brock immediately felt the guilt creep up inside of him, if only she knew.

"Why don't you take your bag upstairs and get ready for bed, me and your mom have some catching up to do."

Henry nodded and quickly climbed the stairs.

"Hey, how was your weekend?" He stood and set his beer down on the coffee table. He didn't know what to do with himself at that very moment, it all felt completely awkward.

"It was good, we had fun. My entire backside is bruised from water skiing, though." She said with a flinch as she rubbed her behind.

Brock chuckled and looked to his feet as he rocked back and forth on his heels. She shook her head and rid her mind of the flashbacks she was having from the water skiing, she was sure she'd be scarred for life. She finally smiled and walked towards Brock, pecking him on the cheek.

It took everything inside of him not to push her away.

"What about you? How was your weekend?" Barbara Jean turned to the table next to the stairs and placed her keys in the dish that sat atop it, trying desperately to contain the smirk that was itching to spread across her lips.

"It was alright, I guess. Nothing special." He pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. For once in his life, the lies weren't coming easily.

"I find that hard to believe." She mumbled underneath her breath and turned towards him.

"What was that?"

"I said, that's too bad. I bet it was nice having your friendship back for a little while, though?"

Before Brock could stop himself, a smile spread across his lips as he thought about all the wonderful moments he and Reba had shared over the weekend. It was the best time of his life. He looked up and met Barbara Jean's eyes, quickly remembering where he was and who was watching him closely. He quickly coughed and stopped smiling. "Yeah, it was kind of like old times."

"I bet." Silence filled the air between them and it felt as if the awkwardness could be cut into two with a butter knife, or at least that's what it felt like to Brock. Barbara Jean just stood there with a goofy grin on her face.