Can't Save You
Dan Haseltine

You sounded desperate when you called
And the words are still ringing in my head
You stood there silent on the phone
And no one spoke until I said,

"I'm still with you, but I know

I can't save you,
Save you tonight until you fall
I can't save you tonight, until it breaks your heart...

You're not the one I used to know
That made the stars so jealous in the night of my soul.
You won the war I can't get in
But the battle that you're dying from is
Underneath your skin

I'm still with you, but I know

"I can't save you,
Save you tonight until you fall
I can't save you tonight, until it breaks your heart."

You lock yourself away,
But there's no way out,
And how long can you stay, can you stay?

Cos you know that I can't save you,
Save you tonight until you fall
I can't save you tonight, until it breaks your heart."




Listen to the song here. (Also available on iTunes here.)

Chapter One

Brian was asleep on the couch. The TV flickered, the news playing out the latest devastation from across the globe, the blueish glow lighting up his features as his eyes shifted beneath his eyelids as he dreamed.

Suddenly the drone of the news anchor was overridden by the piercing cry of the phone. Brian jolted awake, eyes opening and sitting up, grabbing at the dark for the receiver on the end table. He felt dizzy as he pulled it to his ear with one hand, the other flipping the light switch on. "Mmhhh'lo?" he muttered into it, running a hand across his face, glancing at the clock on the wall, squinting at it, unable to believe the time.

He heard the words being spoken othe other end of the line, but they didn't really sink in.

Not really.

When he'd hung up, he went upstairs, numb, and pushed Baylee's bedroom door opened. "You gotta get up, dude," he said into the darkness. He saw Baylee's form moving on the bed and a groan. "You gotta get up, we gotta go." Brian turned on Baylee's bedroom light.

Baylee sat up, eyes bleary, hair on end. "Go?" he mumbled, "Where we going?"

"The hospital."

Brian turned and disappeared from the room before Baylee could ask any further questions, moving down the hallway, arms stretched out to let his fingers run along the walls until he reached his own bedroom. He pulled the jeans he'd worn all day out of the laundry hamper, yanked them on over his boxers and stood in front of the closet staring stupidly at his shirts.

Baylee appeared in the bedroom door, in pajamas and bare feet. "Why are we going there?" he asked.

Brian shook his head, "Go get dressed."

"Is it Mommy?" Baylee asked.

"GO get dressed, Baylee!" Brian yelled.

Baylee's face paled, but he turned and ran back to his bedroom. Brian grabbed a random t-shirt, his hands starting to shake as the words echoed in his head. It had been a doctor. There had been an accident. There was going to be a surgery. He needed to sign for a surgery. She was there, laying in a hospital bed, needing surgery that he wasn't there to sign for. His pulled the shirt over his head and kicked on sandals. Baylee was waiting in the hall, dressed and holding a book.

Brian drove to the hospital, Baylee sat silent in the backseat, staring out the window.

When they reached the hospital, Baylee followed Brian at a trot as they made their way through the mazes of corridors and wings and beige and pink colors, past scrubbed doctors and doctors in white coats and nurses with white sneakers and pony tails until they reached their destination.

*****
Kevin Richardson was alseep, too, when his phone rang. He stared at the caller ID before answering. "Brian? What's the big idea calling me at thr--" he stopped mid-word. "Brian? Brian... Brian, calm down, cuz..." He sat up in bed, the blankets falling away from him. Kristen pulled hers a little tighter, humming sleepily as she rolled into the empty space Kevin had just vacated. She squinted up at him. "Brian, breathe. Brian, you gotta calm down and tell me what happened. Tell me what's the matter."

As Brian spoke, Kevin felt his hands go clammy, his skin get a little cold. Instinctively, he moved so that he could grab onto Kristen's hand. She squeezed his knuckles sleepily.

"Brian, breathe."

Kristen's eyes opened slowly as consciousness returned to her and she realized Kevin sounded scared. She blinked up at his dark form, then slowly sat up. His hand gripped hers tighter. She moved closer. He was shaking. She wrapped her arms around him.

"God damn, Brian," he muttered.

When he hung up, tears were threatening his eyes. He looked down at Kristen. "I have to go to Atlanta," he whispered.

Kristen looked up. "What happened?"

"Leighanne's..." he paused. "Leighanne's dead."

Kristen pulled away, her face was an expression of complete shock. "What?"

"She was in an accident tonight," Kevin said, "I don't know the details, Brian was... in pieces. I have to get to Atlanta." He stood up and moved to the dresser and started fumbling.

Kristen got up and dug out the suitcase from the closet. She put it on the bed and started getting hanging shirts and pants from the closet. A suit. He'd need a suit. "You should call for a flight," she said.

Kevin nodded. "And Nick."

"I'm sure Brian will call Nick."

"Nick will want to come," Kevin replied, "I need a flight for me and Nick."

Kristen nodded, "Go. I'll pack."

Kevin rushed down the stairs, dialing Nick's cell phone as he went. "Hey this is Nick, leave me some lovin'!" came the voice mail outgoing message. "Bullshit," Kevin snapped, "You're gonna answer, Carter." He hung up and redialed the number.

It took three more tries, but finally the phone picked up and the sound of a house beat reverbrated through the phone. "Kev?!" Nick's voice was loud, he was shouting over the music, "Hello?!"

"Nick?"

"KEV?"

"Nick I can hear you, relax," Kevin replied, "Listen, I'm going to Atlanta, to Brian's did you --"

"To Brian's? What? Why?"

"He just called me, has he called you yet?"

"Called me? Why would Brian be calling me at three in the A.M., dawg?"

"Because he just fou--"

"Hold up, dude, Brian's calling me."

And just like that, Kevin was on hold. He growled and rubbed his neck, pacing the length of the Richardson's kitchen. After a long period of time, Nick returned to the line. The noise in the background had died. Now, Kevin could hear the sound of the streets of Los Angeles - car horns honking, an ambulance in the distance, people laughing, talking. "I'm going with you," Nick said.

"That's what I wanted to know. I'll book the flight. I'll call you with details."

"I gotta get home."

"Take a cab, there's enough shit going on without you driving."

"I know."

"You shouldn't be drinking."

"I know."

"I won't bitch," Kevin said. "I'll call you in a few minutes." He hung up.

*****
"This feels weird," Nick whispered, downing half a cup of black coffee in a single mouthful. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and put the cup on his little airplane tray. He took a deep breath. "Shit this feels really weird, Kev." He stared at Kevin.

"I know," Kev replied.

"I mean you -" Nick said, "Being here."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you haven't." Nick shrugged. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit this is so weird."

Kevin sighed.

"She's definitely..." Nick paused. "Dead? He actually said she was dead?"

Kevin whispered, "A nurse told me. Brian couldn't say the words."

Nick shook his head and ducked down so his chest was against his lap, his hands wrapped around his ankles. "Damn," he muttered, "Damn."

Kevin glanced at the window.

"She was like a mom, you know?" Nick looked sideways up at Kevin. "The closest I had anyways, kind of." He paused. "She was like the only woman I never hit on."

"You never hit on Kris," Kevin pointed out.

"Not in front of you," Nick muttered. He looked down at his feet. "Shit."

Kevin sighed again.

*****
Brian was sitting on the front steps of the house when they got there. The door was open behind him, and he just sat there, staring out at the grass, his face pale and eyes unfocused. Nick hung behind Kevin as he paid the cabbie, and took his suitcase from the trunk. Nick pulled his duffle bag up on his shoudler. "Thanks," Kev muttered to the cabbie, and he pulled away.

Nick followed Kevin, keeping a step or two behind, until they reached the step. Kevin reached out a hand as he lowered to his knee and placed it on Brian's shoulder. "Bri," he said, his voice unsteady.

Brian's eyes looked up into Kevin's and Nick could see the red lines of veins and the pool of water that blurred the crystal blue color of his irises. His cheeks were sunken, his frame looked tiny, and Nick shuffled his feet to distract him from the utter pain that seemed to be tattooed across Brian's entire existence.

"Nick, why don't you go find Baylee?" Kevin asked, looking over his shoulder.

Nick swallowed. Baylee. Right. The kid that just lost his mother. Nick nodded and moved past Brian on the steps. Brian reached out and grabbed Nick's hand as he passed. He looked up as Nick looked down, their eyes meeting in the middle. Brian's mouth moved, his lower lip quivering, but he couldn't get the words out. His mouth just flopped wordlessly. Nick nodded.

"It's okay, Bri," he whispered, "I get it. There's nothing to say."

Brian nodded. Kevin sat down on the step beside his cousin, and Brian turned away, releasing his grip on Nick.

Chapter Two

The stairs seemed longer to Nick as he made his way up to Baylee's bedroom. The hallway seemed darker. He knocked on Baylee's bedroom door, but there was no response from inside, so he called gently, "Bay? It's me... Uncle Nick."

The door jerked opened and Baylee stood there in front of him, looking up at him. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hey Baylee," Nick replied. He lowered slowly so he was closer to Baylee's height. He wasn't sure what to say next. How are you seemed pointless, considering the red around the rim of Baylee's eyes. Nick forced a really tight, stright-line sort of smile and stared into Baylee's eyes. "I'm sure a whole bunch of grown-ups have said sorry to you already, you probably don't wanna hear it from me, too, huh?"

Baylee shook his head, his eyes filling up again. "Not really," he answered.

Nick took a deep breath. "Wanna play Monopoly?"

Baylee stared at Nick for a long moment. "Yeah I guess," he answered finally.

Nick followed Baylee into the bedroom and helped him set up the game board on the carpeted floor. Baylee took the thimble and told Nick he couldn't be the wheelbarrow, which Nick knew was because Leighanne was always the wheelbarrow, so he took the dog and they started playing.

An hour later, and they hadn't said much to each other, aside from what the game required. There was a crashing sound downstairs and shouting. Nick looked at Baylee. "Uncle Kevin's here, too," he said.

Baylee nodded. "Dad's been breaking stuff all morning anyways."

Nick moved the dog around Go and collected his $200. He paused. "You probably feel like breaking stuff, too, huh?" he asked.

Baylee shrugged.

"I wouldn't blame you," Nick said, "I felt like it when my grandparents died."

Baylee looked up at Nick, his eyebrow raised.

"I know it's not the same," Nick said, "But... I dunno, I liked my grandparents more than my real parents." He shrugged, "So maybe I can understand kind of a little bit what you're going through. Not really, obviously." Nick paused as Baylee moved his thimble and made yet another property purchase. As Nick watched him shuffle the money with the bank, he said, "Your dad loves you."

Baylee sighed. "I know. But... my mom was the one who tucked me in at night usually and she's the one who's been doing voices for the Harry Potter books. She's the one that makes me Mickey Mouse pancakes."

Nick frowned. "Your mom loved you a whole super lot if she made you Mickey Mouse pancakes, dude."

Baylee pushed the game board aside and crawled onto Nick's lap. Nick awkwardly wrapped his arms around the little guy. He tucked Baylee's head under his chin and took a deep breath. "Uncle Nick, I don't want her to go to away."

"I know," Nick answered him thickly, "Neither do I."

*****
Kevin and Brian sat at the dining room table. A bottle of liquer sat in between them, and two short glasses. Brian had his in his hands and was staring down at it. Kevin leaned back in his chair and sloshed the amber liquid around. He stared at Brian. "You've got memories."

Brian nodded. A tear slid across his face and landed in the glass. He shoved it away, drawing a deep breath as he moved backwards in the chair and stared up at the ceiling fan. "Do I ever," he mumbled.

"That's more than many end up with," Kevin replied. "It's better to be a has been than a might have been..."

Brian sighed, "I didn't have enough time."

"I know," Kevin answered.

Brian looked at Kevin levelly and asked, "What'd I do?"

Kevin, who had been about to take a sip of the drink, paused, "Do?" he asked.

Brian nodded, "Yeah. To deserve this, I mean. We went to church, every damn Sunday, we were there, in the same place, the fourth pew. The only time we weren't was on tour... and we made a point to find a local church. Every week." He dragged the cup closer. "I prayed. I prayed like crazy when they were doing the surgery last night. I said every prayer I knew, I begged in every way I could think to word it. I even got on my knees at one point," he said. Brian took a sip of the alcohol.

Kevin shook his head, "It's not like that Brian, you know it doesn't work like that."

Brian swallowed the rest of the drink in one mouthful and slammed the glass onto the table. He reached for the bottle again and poured himself more. He looked at Kevin, his eyes watery. "Maybe it should."

"Maybe, but it doesn't," Kevin said. "You can't tell God what to do."

"I begged him to take me instead," Brian said.

Kevin frowned.

Brian swung back his drink. "I always thought I'd die first," he admitted. "I never thought about what I'd do if she died. I never thought about it, ever."

Kevin watched as Brian poured more alcohol. "Go easy on that, cuz," he mumbled.

"Easy?" Brian laughed. He stood up and threw the bottle across the room. It hit the cupboard doors and shattered. Glass and alcohol fell to the counter. Brian cursed. "My fucking wife is dead, Kev," he yelled, "Now isn't the time to play fucking alcohol Nazi."

Kevin frowned.

"Fuck you," Brian yelled to nobody in particular. He looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck you," he yelled again, "Why didn't you leave her alone?"

"I don't think cussing out God is really the right answer, Bri," Kevin murmured.

Brian looked at Kevin, and great big tears rolled across his cheeks and he whispered, "I don't know what else to say to him right now. He took my wife."

*****
Baylee sat behind Brian, next to Nick at the funeral. Nick nudged him during a particularly long and boring prayer, and smiled reassuringly down at the wild-haired little boy. Baylee had grabbed Nick's hand. Nick took a deep breath and held onto Baylee's fingers as they turned forward again and the service carried on. He tried not to look at Brian's shaking shoulders, or down turned head. He tried to avoid the tear-filled gazes of other people. He'd promised himself he'd stay strong for Baylee.

"Uncle Nick," Baylee whispered after the service was over and people were milling about the church, coming forward to apologize to Brian for his loss.

Nick looked down at Baylee. "Do you believe in Heaven?"

Nick nodded slowly.

"Think my mom's there?" he asked.

"Most definitely," Nick replied.

*****
Baylee and Nick were sitting under a tree a few feet away from the graveside service. Baylee had built a tiny teepee out of twigs and grass and Nick was picking grass aimlessly, splitting the thick pieces with his fingers. Nick looked around. "This is a nice cemetary," he commented.

Baylee looked around too. "It's a cemetary," he said.

Nick shrugged, "It's a good one, though. If you have to be in one. You know?"

Baylee glanced towards the grave side service. Brian was on his knees, his hands clutching his face. Kevin and Howie were knelt beside him, talking to him. Nick glanced back, too. "Are you sure you don't wanna be up there?" he asked.

Baylee nodded. "I don't wanna see them put her in the dirt," he answered.

Nick went back to picking grass.

"What happens to your body when you're dead?" Baylee asked.

Nick shrugged.

"Does your skin fall off?"

Nick thought about a decomposing bird he'd seen a couple days before at a park, which had been covered with flies. He'd been completely disgusted by it, yet -like most nasty things- had felt compelled to investigate it, too. His stomach turned at the thought of the sunken features and vacant expression it had worn. He didn't want to think of Leighanne the same way and he quickly shook the image out of his head. He stared at Baylee. "I don't know," he lied.

Baylee sighed and kicked his teepee down.

"Why'd she have to go to that stupid party anyways," he mumbled.

Nick drew a deep breath.

*****
A week after the funeral, Brian made his way into the wide, brightly lit kitchen, and found Nick leaning on the counter, a glass of chocolate milk at his elbow, the milk out, a plastic container of Quik beside it, with dried powder residue spilled around. Nick looked up as Brian's eyes landed on the powder and grabbed the sponge from the sink, acting like he'd been about to pick up the mess anyways.

Brian looked around. "Where's Baylee?"

"Living room," Nick answered, "Watching Shrek."

Brian nodded and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table and let out a long, low breath.

Nick swiped aimlessly at the counter. He looked at Brian, hesitant. Brian buried his face in his arm on the table. "You okay?" Nick asked quietly. He stopped scrubbing and held the sponge awkwardly in front of him, pinching the corners in his fingers and spinning it.

"Yeah," Brian answered.

"Okay." Nick leaned against the counter. "Baylee seems..." he paused. Brian looked up. "He seems worried." Nick paused, and their eyes connected. "About you, I mean."

"Worried about me?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. We talked a bit."

"Baylee talked," Brian said quietly. "To you."

Nick nodded.

Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I guess he's at least talking to somebody."

Nick tossed the sponge into the sink and sat down at the table. He gave Brian the look. "Bri--"

"Don't Nick," Brian whispered.

"No hear me out," Nick said, he looked Brian in the eyes, "I'm trying really hard with Baylee, I'm trying to be cool Uncle Nick who gets it, you know. I'm trying to be his buddy and to make him feel like someone is looking out for him... But Brian..."

Brian's eyes were welling up.

Nick stopped. "Baylee needs you."

"I know."

Chapter Three

Nick turned on the kitchen light and jumped in surprise. Brian was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of amber in front of him. It was four o'clock in the morning, Nick hadn't expected him. Nick grabbed a glass from the cupboard, turned on the faucet and filled it with water before sitting down. He stared at Brian.

He wasn't entirely sure how it was that he had ended up being the one staying. Kevin had finally flown back out to Los Angeles, and Nick had stayed behind. He'd supposed to have gone with Kevin, but Baylee had attached himself to Nick's leg and begged him not to go and Brian hadn't exactly looked stable.

He didn't look much more stable now, weeks later.

Nick pointed at the glass, "That's bad for your heart."

Brian looked at the glass, then up at Nick, "So?"

"So Baylee lost one parent, he doesn't need to lose you both."

Brian rolled the glass with his wrist and took a sip. He looked at Nick, "He'd be fine."

Nick reached across and took the glass and drank the rest of the liquid in one mouthful and put the glass on the counter. He stared at Brian skeptically. "He wouldn't be fine actually."

Brian glared at the empty glass.

"Dude, since when am I the adult between us?" Nick questioned, "Everything's so --"

"Fucked up?" Brian interrupted, "Yeah. It is pretty fucked up, isn't it? Try being the one who has the big gaping hole in his life. Try being the one that actually lost something here." His words shot from his mouth. He shook his head and looked away.

Nick drank his water.

After a long silence Brian whispered, "I'm sorry."

Nick looked up at him, "It's all good."

Brian's eyes were filled with tears. He'd never cried so damn much in his life, he thought. He felt like he'd been demasculated, that he was some kind of tear factory or something. He ran his hands over his eyes. He stared at the sink. He could almost see her, standing there, washing the dishes before she put them in the dish washer.

"Why do you bother running the dishwasher, you already cleaned them..." They'd had the argument countless times, it seemed. Leighanne always smiled and answered the same way, "I'm only rinsing them." But in Brian's opinion, she'd been using soap, clearly that indicated washed.

"I need to move," he whispered.

"Move?" Nick asked.

"This place is haunted," Brian whispered.

*****
"I'm going home to Kentucky," Brian announced.

Nick looked up from the guitar he was strumming, sitting on Brian's couch. Brian sat down on the coffee table across from him. "You are?" Nick asked. He sat upright. "What about Baylee?"

"He's coming with me," Brian said in a duh tone.

"No I mean, did you talk to him about it?" Nick asked.

Brian looked at Nick like he was nuts. "It's not really his decision," he said.

"No but he should be included."

Brian shrugged, "He'll like Kentucky. I grew up there, I should know. It's a great place to grow up."

"But this house is all he's ever known," Nick answered, his brows pinched together in concern.

"Nick, relax," Brian said, "I know you've been taking care of Baylee since --" he stopped. He looked around the room. He thought for sure he could smell her perfume. He closed his eyes. "Nick, this place is - it's haunted, I told you that. I need to get out of here, I need to escape. I can't heal until I escape."

"Okay so what's your plan?"

"There's a house I know," he said, "And my mum said it's for sale." He paused. "I called the realtor. I'm going to buy it. I'm going to pack up all this crap into a U-Haul and I'm going to drive to Lexington and I'm going to live there."

Nick stared at him. "That's a long way for Baylee to ride. In a U-Haul. You should have movers do it and fly with Bay."

Brian stared at Nick. "I want you to fly with Baylee." He took a deep breath, "I want to make the drive alone."

Nick raised his eyebrow. "Brian..."

"Nick," Brian whispered, "I need to do this."

*****
"What is this a box of? Bricks?" Nick dropped the box he'd been struggling across the lawn with onto the floor of the U-Haul. He glowered at Brian, who had just lightly dropped two similarly sized boxes next to it.

"Might as well be," Brian responded coldly.

He walked away and Nick, unable to resist, opened the box and found it packed tightly with Bibles. He sighed, then turned and ran to catch up with Brian. "You didn't go to church today," he said, "That's not like you."

"I'm busy," Brian waved his hand at the U-Haul. The two boys stepped into the house again and took another couple boxes each.

"You didn't go last week, either, or the one before," Nick stated. He added a third box to his pile, just to make a point that the Bible box had been an issue only because it'd been like nine thousand pounds of God. He carried the teetering pile out the door behind Brian.

"Maybe I just don't feel like going," Brian said hotly.

"Why?" Nick asked. He didn't really know why he cared, it wasn't like he was a church boy. But somehow Brian without church was just... wrong. He dropped the three boxes in the U-Haul and looked at Brian. Bri started to walk away again, but Nick caught him by the shoulders. "Look, I dunno a whole lot about the whole... yanno, the whole Jesus thing you're into but..." he paused. "Isn't this when you need that type stuff the most?"

Brian stared at Nick. "I've sat in the same pew since the day we moved to Marietta," he said quietly. He glanced at the house and set his jaw, his adam's apple bobbling ferociously. When his eyes reconnected with Nick's he said, "I woke up that first Sunday on time and I got dressed and I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and got my Bible out and --" he shook his head, "And I couldn't picture being there in the pew without her next to me."

"Well that's understandable."

"It was hell sitting there during the funeral." He looked down at his feet. "Worse than hell." He moved toward the house again. "Which is why I have to move." Following after Brian, Nick sighed in a way that Brian interpreted as his disapproval. "I can't stay here, Nick, this place is haunted. I can't even eat breakfast without feeling like my heart is being twisted like a wet rag."

"I'm just thinking that you'll miss the familiarity," Nick said.

"It's not like I'm unfamiliar with Lexington," Brian said.

"But Baylee's got friends here," Nick argued.

Brian shrugged, "He'll make new friends."

Nick sighed. "I know."

Brian hoisted an end table up. "It's not going to be any different for you," he said, "Just a different phone number, and instead of flying to Atlanta, you'll fly to Kentucky." Brian disappeared out the door.

Nick sighed.

*****
Brian got up from the grass and looked down at the place where he'd just been laying. His body had left an impression on the ground, bent the grass around his shape. He touched his hand to the heart-shaped stone and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He prayed that the shape of him, embossed upon the grass as it was, would be enough to keep her company. And then he whispered a goodbye, and walked back to the U-Haul.

Bob Dylan played from the anchient speaker system. Brian clung to the wheel as the city gave way to the country gave way to the highway, to the trees and grass, to the passing of other cities. Further and further north. He took his time. Made stops. Frequently stopped at rest stops just to remind himself to breathe, in fact.

Finally, the road began to lose their unfamiliarity, began to become roads he'd seen, roads he'd traveled. The landmarks became signs of something Brian hadn't felt in weeks. Home..

And as he pulled into the driveway of the house he'd bought, the U-Haul rumbling up the dirt driveway, dragging behind it the red pick up truck Brian had traded in the Humer for, he looked at the house in front of him and didn't see a ghost on the front porch, didn't see a ghost in the windows, or on the lawn. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The Times They Are A'Changin'
Bob Dylan

Gather 'round people, wherever you roam
And admit the waters around you have grown
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a'changin'

Come writers an critics who prophesize with your pen
Keep your eyes wide the chance won't come again
Don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times they, they are a'changin'

Come senators, congressmen, please heed the call
Don't block the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside and it's ragin'
It'll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times they are a'changin'

Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
Don't criticize what you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Your old road is rapidly agin'
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend a hand
For your times they are a'changin'

The line it is drawn and the curse it is cast
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin'
And the first one now will later be last
For the times they are a'changin'

Chapter Four

The U-Haul traveling through town caused quite a stir. Everyone had heard, of course, about what had happened. It had been all over the news for a couple days, mainly because of how Brian had managed to avoid the media. Everyone knew about the death of the Backstreet Boy's wife, how there had been an accident on the way home from a friend's bachelorette party. They knew about Brian's sudden hermit-like existence, about Nick Carter staying at the Littrell home in Marietta, Georgia, and being the only one seen entering or exiting the house for weeks, bringing Baylee to the grocery store and back. They knew about Kevin's explosion in the face of the media, how he'd defended his cousin from rumors that were flying under the radar, rumors that were, he said, unfounded and pointless. Rumors like that it hadn't been an accident at all.

Likewise, the people of Lexington had heard that there was a chance Brian would come home. They basically expected it. Of course he would come home - that's what country boys did when they were in pain, when they'd experienced loss, wasn't it? And the Littrell family still had its roots in Lexington, even if Brian had left long ago. The town was a rage of wildfire rumors when the SOLD sign went up in front of the old Harris home on Pleasant Street. And finally, when the U-Haul drove through, and their expectant eyes landed on the driver, they were rewarded with their rumors proving true. They rushed to their phones, hung out second story windows, gaped at the truck as it moved through the town, past the stores on Main Street, down the side streets, wending its way until it was in the outskirts of town, and hand rumbled up the dirt driveway.

And one of the most eager to pass on the news was a petite girl who stood on the corner by the post office, putting mail into the blue box. She had short, short blonde hair and bright green eyes and she stared after the U-Haul for a long moment, trying to piece together in her head that it really was Brian Littrell she'd seen behind the wheel. She shoved the rest of her mail quickly into the box and turned and ran home, her sneakers clapping the sidewalk. She pushed her way excitedly into the small house, rushed by her husband, and grabbed the phone from the kitchen wall.

"Molly?" Jake, her husband, followed into the kitchen, his face knit with concern. "What's going on? What's the matter?"

"It's him, he's here, he's back, Jake," she gasped out the words in a rush, one chasing on the heels of the last. Her fingers flew over the keypad on the phone, her hand shaking with excitement, her eyes alight with hope. "He's here."

"Who's here?" Jake asked, confused.

"Emma Harris' room please," she said into the phone.

"Molls-" Jake sat at the table, still looking confused.

Molly covered the mouthpiece of the phone, since she was on hold, "Brian Litrell is back in town," she said matter-of-a-factly.

Jake's eyebrows nearly shot off his head. "What?"

"Brian's here, I saw him, with my own two eyes." Molly pointed at her eyes. "He's here with a motha of a U-Haul. He's here, Jake."

Jake stood up and neared Molly. "So you're calling Emma?"

"Of course I am."

Jake sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Is this really the time to bring this all back up with him?" he asked, "I mean, after what the guy's just been through and all? Is it even humane?"

"Don't you want what's best for Emma?" Molly demanded, raising an eyebrow. "This is her only hope. Don't you get that?"

Jake sighed. He couldn't really argue with that.

"Emma?" Molly's voice was pinched with excitement as she turned back to the phone. Jake lowered himself into his seat at the table again. "Em, you'll never guess what I just heard."

"I always liked Brian," Jake muttered.

Molly turned to look at him. "Brian's back in town," she gushed the words quickly, "And -- Emma, he bought your parents' old place."

Jake looked up. He what? he mouthed.

Molly turned away. "I know, I can't believe it either. The timing... Em, you need to come home. Now."

Jake stared at the table.

Molly's voice trilled through the kitchen, "This is seriously the answer to all our prayers."

*****
Emma Harris hung up the phone, her heart pounding. The blood was rushing through her veins. She gripped the arm rest of her chair and closed her eyes. She tried to remember Brian's features. It'd been so long since she'd last seen him in person, and the features were muted, less prominent in photographs than they'd ever been in person. She remembered him, really, as a teenager, in high school, wearing his letterman jacket, leaning against the lockers in the hallway. She could still see him, glowing in the sun from the doors that loomed beyond their lockers at the far east wing of Tates Creek High...

"Wilson's gonna kill me if I'm late for Chem again," he'd drawled the last time she'd seen him.

"Well you wouldn't want old Wilson to try to kill you now would you? He'd definitely win that fight - you with your chicken arms..." she'd teased him.

"I ain't got chicken arms," he'd answered, flexing his arms for her to see. But not much happened so he pouted and leaned back against the locker laughing, that warm smile spreading across his eyes and mouth at the same time. He'd leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. "I'm going to miss you."

"You're only going to Chem," she'd answered, laughing into the kiss.

"Forty-five minutes with Wilson is like a lifetime," he muttered.

She swallowed and slid her hands off the arm rests, onto her lap and ran them along her thighs, breathing slowly, remembering for the first time in a long time the taste of his mouth on hers, the way he breathed between touches of their mouth, the way his hand slid along her waist, not daring to climb higher. He'd always been a gentleman.

"Miss. Harris?"

Emma nodded and turned around as a young girl placed a tray beside her on the table. "Thank you," she said.

Emma turned back to the window, staring out at the sunlight fading over the tops of the trees. Would he even remember? She reached into her pocket and pulled out the faded scrap of paper, stared down at his messy, high school handwriting, at the signature that had not yet been perfected by years of scrawling it out. Would he even care?

Of course he'd care. After all, he had always been a gentleman.

*****
Molly wrapped her arms around Emma in a bone-crushingly tight hug. "It's so good to see you," she gasped, squeezing her best friend.

Emma hugged her back. "It's good to see you, too."

Jake carried Emma's bags in from the back of their SUV.

"You've lost so much weight," Molly said, holding Emma out at arm's reach.

"Well, you know," Emma laughed. She shrugged.

Molly pulled Emma into the house, "You look good, though, seriously. I mean it. You look good."

"I look like shit actually," Emma said.

They went into the house and Emma sank into Molly's kitchen table seat. Molly pulled a bottle of vitamin water from the fridge and put it down in front of Emma, grabbing a second bottle for herself as Jake thumped up the stairs beyond them. Molly studied Emma. "You really don't look like shit. Considering everything."

Emma smiled sadly.

"So.. have you seen him?" Emma asked.

"When he pulled into town with the U-Haul."

"Does he... look... like he did?"

"Well you know Brian," Molly replied, "He's always looked better in person than in the photographs." She smiled, thinking of the high school yearbook.

Emma laughed. "I barely remember what he looked like in person, God. It's been that long."

"Almost nineteen years," Molly said, nodding.

Emma shook her head. "I can't believe that." She took a deep breath.

"He looked good," Molly supplied.

Emma studied her vitamin water bottle.

Chapter Five

"I don't want to go to regular school," Baylee snapped, scowling across the truck cab at his father. Brian sighed, exasperated as Baylee continued, "I want to go back to Georgia."

"There's nothing left in Georgia anymore," Brian replied.

"I had friends," Baylee yelled, "Here I'm gonna be the weird new kid."

"You aren't weird," Brian said, turning the truck off. He peered out the passanger door over Baylee's shoulders at the squat white school building.

"It's ugly," Baylee said, "Why can't Sue just keep teaching me?" he demanded, referring to the tutor that he'd had since he'd first started schooling. Leighanne had spend months researching tutors in the area before she'd found Sue.

"Because she lives in Georgia," Brian answered, "And we live in Kentucky."

"No, we don't," Baylee said, folding his arms across his chest. "This school is stupid," he added, staring at it. "The people who go here are probably stupid, too."

Brian raised an eyebrow, "I went here."

Baylee glanced at Brian, and, with an ominous silence, turned back to staring at the building.

Brian narrowed his eyes. "You're going, now go."

"No, I'm not," Baylee replied. "We're going back to Georgia."

"We're not going back to Georgia," Brian answered, "And you are going to school."

"No."

"Baylee."

"I said NO."

"Fine." Brian threw off his seatbelt, opened his side of the truck door and got out, slamming the door shut again. Baylee watched him walk around the truck's nose and whipped open the passanger side door.

"What're you doing?" Baylee squealed as he leaped across the seat, and Brian caught him 'round the waist, pulling him out of the truck. Baylee shrieked, his voice coming out in a high pitched noise akin to that which a dolphin makes. "What're you doing? Are you mental?" he demanded.

Brian whipped Baylee's backpack onto his elbow as he hoisted his kid out of the truck. Baylee's back crushed against Brian's chest and he kicked his feet ferociously, his voice squeaking out as Baylee struggled against Brian's grip.

It was a spectacle to be sure. Brian, dragging his nine year-old across the school parking lot towards the school building, kicking and screaming all the way, his limbs flailing about every which way. People started awkwardly, the parents feeling embarassed for Brian, the kids raising their eyebrows and whispering, pointing at Baylee and laughing quietly at the outburst.

"Baylee Thomas Wylee Littrell!" Brian shouted, "STOP IT. You are being RIDICULOUS!"

"I -- AM -- NOT -- GOING -- TO -- THIS -- STUPID -- SCHOOL!" Baylee shouted loudly.

Brian kicked the front door of the school opened and struggled with Baylee through the vestibule, past a bulletin board with events and such, through the blast of air conditioning. Baylee's shrieks echoed off the tiny room's walls, and Brian shoved through the second door into the foyer fo the school. Baylee kicked Brian's knees and Brian stumbled forward a bit and dropped Baylee to the tile. Baylee scrambled to run back out the door, but Brian caught him by the arm and pulled him back.

"LET -- ME -- GO!" Baylee screamed.

"Dude, get a load of that kid's hair," came a voice from across the room.

Baylee stopped struggling and froze. He yanked his arm away from Brian, snatched his backpack from his arm, and glowered up at him. "I HATE you," he snarled, and, pulling his bag onto his backpack, he stormed away.

Brian sighed, watching him walk away. "Have.. have a good day.." he called weakly, his heart heavy after the colossal scene that had just taken place. He walked back across the parking lot, walk-of-shame style as people continued to glance his direction. Some of them now recognized him and started whispering. He reached the truck and quickly pulled himself inside, and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel in exasperation.

*****
Brian walked into the Starbucks on Main Street fifteen minutes later, still heavy from the experience with Baylee, and stood in front of the cashier waiting to place an order. Suddenly he heard a voice hiss behind him, "Go talk to him."

Brian turned slowly, casually, and pretended to be looking at a poster on the wall. Two women were sitting at a table behind him, bent low over their drinks. One, the one who had spoken, had short, spikey blonde hair, and the other was wearing a fishing hat. Brian turned back to the counter before it became obvious he'd heard them, and pulled out his wallet, placing his order and paying.

He lingered by the cart as he put in his sugar and cream slowly, giving the girl a chance to come over to him if she wanted to, but when she hadn't, he stuck a straw into his iced coffee and slipped out the door.

*****
"You let him get away," Molly accused.

Emma clutched the edges of the hat, her lips pursed around the straw to her frappechino. "It wasn't the right time," she muttered into the drink. Her fingers curled around the hat.

Molly sighed, "He was right there, too."

"I know," Emma shook her head, "I know, but it wasn't right. When I see him again, I want it to be -- natural."

Molly stared out the window as Brian climbed into his truck and backed out of the space in front of the coffee shop. "That's exactly what that would've been, though, Em," she argued, "You didn't come here expecting to see him, he just showed up. It was natural."

Emma sighed, "It just wasn't right."

*****
Baylee climbed into the truck at 3:00 that afternoon after school and threw his backpack onto the floor. He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his bag and shoved them at Brian's hands angrily before pulling on his seatbelt. "What's this?" Brian asked, turning the papers ove in his hands to inspect it.

"I told you these people are stupid," Baylee said hotly. Brian's eyes scanned the papers - they were pages of math homework, with all the answer blanks already filled in with Baylee's messy scrawl. "I learned that crap two years ago," Baylee snapped.

Brian frowned, "We don't say crap, Baylee."

Baylee glared at his father. "That's not the point. I want to go home."

"We'll go in and talk to the principal first, then we'll go home..." Brian reached for the door handle.

Baylee scowled, "No, I mean home to Georgia." Baylee shook his head, "You're stupid too."

Brian pushed his door open. "C'mon, let's go talk to the principal."

"I want my Mother."

"Trust me, so don't I."

*****
"They made fun of my hair," Baylee was whispering into the phone, so Nick had to strain his ears to hear what he was saying. He ran his hand along the back of his neck and leaned against the kitchen counter in his house. Lauren was standing beside him, stirring something on the stove.

"Your hair?" Nick asked. He tried not to laugh. He bit his fist. He'd been saying for years that kids were going to make fun of Baylee for the mop on his head if the Littrells didn't cut it off. He sighed.

"They said it looked like I stuck my hand in a light socket," Baylee complained, "That's how stupid they are. If I stuck my hand in a light socket all those volts of electricity would've surged through my body, interrupted my nervous system, and shut down my brain. Possibly stopped my heart, too. Either way, I'd be dead." Nick could literally hear him roll his eyes at the end of this rant.

"Did you tell your dad?" Nick asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"He doesn't give a crap," Baylee answered.

Nick sighed, "He gives a crap Baylee, of course he gives a crap."

Baylee felt a little better because Nick wasn't correcting the curse. Something was freeing about this liberty to speak what he wanted to say. "He doesn't act it."

"That's because he's going through a lot of shit right now, Baylee," Nick said slowly. Lauren lifted a spoonful of the sauce she'd been stirring to Nick's mouth and he lowered the phone receiver from his mouth to take the food into his mouth. He gave her a thumbs up.

"I know he is, but what am I going through?" Baylee demanded, "Nothing?"

"Of course not, your dad's just reacting differently," Nick replied. Lauren turned back to the stove and turned it off. He turned and pulled the spaghetti plates out of the cupboard. "It's hard, what your dad's doing, as a grown-up, you know?"

"It's hard as a kid," Baylee whined.

"I know."

Baylee was quiet a second, then he said, "My mom never would've made me go to private school," he complained.

"Dude, your mom spoiled the crap out of you," Nick laughed, "Your right, she wouldn't have made you go to a public school." He paused, "She wouldn't have let you go to public school is more like it."

"Let me?"

"Public school can be cool, I'm tellin' ya," Nick said, "Give it a chance, you'll see. And as for your hair... I'll talk to your dad. Okay? We'll see what we can do."

"Thanks, Uncle Nick."

"No prob, Bay," Nick replied, "Now go tell your dad you don't hate him, okay, 'cos I know your dad and I'm tellin' you... that prolly hurt his feelings a whole lot."

Baylee sighed, "Okay."

Chapter Six

"What? Cut Baylee's hair? Are you crazy?" Brian's voice was pitched in disbelief.

"Dude, it's getting him beat up at school, I'm tellin' ya, the kid's told me everyday this week about some lil prick down there named Randy that's making fun of him for looking like an under-gelled Flock of Seagulls reject."

Brian slammed the fridge door shut. He felt hot in the face. Part of him knew that at one point he would've laughed at Nick's reference, the other part of him knew that Leighanne would not have appreciated Nick suggesting they cut the crop of hair that she'd worked so hard to cultivate over Baylee's nine years of existence.

"Brian," Nick said, voice low and serious, "He wants it cut. You're lucky he hasn't taken the Crayola safety scissors to it yet. Seriously, he's been begging me all week to talk to you about it."

"Why doesn't he talk to me about it himself?" Brian demanded.

Nick could literally hear the dishes hitting the table as Brian set it angrily. "Um well this is a shot in the dark," Nick said, "But maybe because he was afraid you'd tweak out?"

Brian realized he was slamming things and stopped. He stared at the silverware in his hands and took a deep breath. "They really called him a Flock of Seagulls reject?"

"Yeah..." Nick said with a laugh, "Amazing kids his age know what Flock of Seagulls is, isn't it?"

"Lord have mercy," Brian groaned, sinking into a chair. "My kid's a freaking 80s band reject."

"If it helps any, they also said he looks like he stuck his head in a light socket, called him Baybay the Clown, and several other cruel jokes including one about transplanting pubic hair."

"What'd you say the kid's name was?" Brian demanded, a surge of anger rising up in him.

"Uh-uhh," Nick said, shaking his head, "Dude, my mom used to go marchin' down to the school every time Aaron had a bully call him a name and he never learned to fight for himself. Consequently, my brothers a pussy. You are not doing that to Baylee."

"But-"

"No. You leave him be. I told him how to throw a good punch and --"

"You what?"

"Dude, I'm telling you, your kid's gonna be fine. Just bring him to get a fucking hair cut, will you?"

Brian sighed.

*****
Baylee had said probably a grand total of five words to Brian since the incident at the school on Monday. It was Friday night when they were sitting in the kitchen eating chicken and pasta salad when Brian put down his fork and said, "I was talking to Nick earlier."

Baylee stabbed some noodles on the end of his fork and chewed them, not looking up at his father.

"He says you want a hair cut."

Baylee's eyes raised, though he didn't turn his face. He waited, practically holding his breath.

"He says the kids at school called you a Flock of Seagulls reject."

Baylee waited.

"I was thinking we should go get your head sheared this afternoon. What do you think?"

Baylee's eyes widened. "You're serious?" he asked. When Brian nodded he gasped, "You promise?" Brian nodded again and Baylee launched out of his chair, rounded the table and wrapped his arms around Brian's neck. "Thank you," he wheezed.

*****
After lunch, Brian and Baylee went to the mall and while Baylee was in getting his hair cut, Brian was poking around the small style store, looking at random hair care products, bored out of his mind. He noticed a small fish tank in the corner and bent down to stare at the gold fish it contained. He heard the door jingle behind him.

"Hey can I help you?" the cashier called to the new arrivals.

"Hey, we're here for mani-pedis," came a woman's voice. "Molly Jeffers and Emma Harris."

Brian choked. Loudly. He sputtered and backed away from the goldfish, hitting a small display of nail polishes, sending several colorful bottles flying to the floor. One - an orange one - shattered on impact and Brian jumped forward. He ducked away from the display as the sales associate rounded the aisle of shampoos between himself and the register, and he quickly rushed back into the connecting room, where a young guy with a Spanish accent was cutting Baylee's hair.

Brian could feel his heart slamming in his chest.

"Are you okay?" Baylee asked, looking at Brian in the mirror.

"Yeah-huh," Brian gasped, nodding. He put his hands on his hips, then stared down at the hair in pools around Baylee's chair. He looked up, really looking at his son.

Baylee's hair was short.

He felt his stomach twist. "G'Lord where's the rest room?" he asked the Spanish accent guy. The guy pointed and Brian darted for it. He could feel the chicken and pasta salad threatening to make a reappearance.

*****
"Sorry about that," muttered the sales clerk, returning to Emma and Molly after mopping up the orange nail polish. "I dunno what that was."

Molly laughed, "It's okay. We were down for a two o'clock."

Emma wandered down the aisle and peeked into the styling room. There'd been a time when she'd wanted to cut hair for a living. She remembered her fetish for hair in high school. She'd met Brian that way after all - running her hair through his hair at band practice one day for no apparent reason at all. She'd been mortified, but Brian had confronted her in the hall the next day and demanded he get to return the experience by running his hands through her hair, too.

She closed her eyes thinking of the moment, her hand traveling up to her neck and touching the strands of hair that snuck out from beneath it.

"G'Lord," she heard, "Where's the rest room?"

She opened her eyes and realized she was staring at Brian's back. Baylee sat in the chair in front of the mirror, happily getting his hair trimmed, and there was Brian. Her eyes widened, her heart nearly stopped. The man cutting Baylee's hair pointed and Brian started to turn and Emma quickly ducked backwards, slamming into Molly as Brian rushed by, covering his mouth and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Let's go," Emma hissed.

Molly glowered, "Talk to him."

"He's throwing up," Emma pointed out.

"When he's finished, then," Molly demanded.

"No! This isn't the right time," Emma replied. She tried to push around Molly.

"I am so not giving up my mani-pedi because you're too much of a baby to talk to your husband."

Emma's face reddened. "Shut up. Don't say that. He's not."

"Technically, Emma-Lou Harris," Molly replied, "He is."

"Technically, Molly Jeffers, he isn't."

"Excuse me."

Both women jumped at the sound of Baylee's voice. They both looked down at him. "W-what?" Emma stammered.

"Did you see where my dad went?" Baylee asked.

Emma pointed at the bathroom door.

"Hey thanks lady," Baylee said, marching in the direction of the door.

Emma looked into Molly's eyes. "I'm leaving."

"You can't. I drove you here."

"There's a whole mall to wander around," Emma responded, "I'll be wandering until you're done with your mani-pedi." She turned and hurried out of the hair salon as the toilet flushed and Baylee knocked on the restroom door.

Chapter Seven

Emma couldn't help but feel like someone was watching her as she made her way through the mall. She kept glancing back over her shoulder, pulling her fishing hat lower oh her head and wrapping her arms around her self, rubbing her arms as though keeping warm. She didn't spot anyone following her. She finally bought a pretzel at a stand by the food court and ducked into the wide open area, certain if Brian had been following she'd spot him now. Her eyes scanned the crowd as she picked pieces off her pretzel. But neither Brian nor his son showed up anywhere and Emma eventually finished the pretzel and hugged her knees to her chest, her shoes balancing on the edge of the metal chair.

She picked at the ripped knee of her jeans and thought about everything that was going on. She'd bumped into Brian twice now, almost, and been rendered speechless and unable to confront him each time. She studied her knee carefully and made a mental note to put lotion on her knee cap when she got home, since it was looking kind of dry. She felt tears well up in her eyes and thought how silly that was until she remembered she'd been thinking about Brian and Brian had an uncanny knack for drawing the tears out of her.

Plus Molly's snap back at the hair salon had really bothered her.

Brian never was, nor would he ever be, Emma's husband, despite how much Molly wanted and believed it.

At least… not… technically.

Emma dropped her feet to the ground and lowered her purse from her shoulder, opening it and pulling out the crumpley, folded yellow sheet of paper from deep within. It was a sheet from a canary yellow legal pad, written on in the chicken scratch handwriting of a high school boy. She ran her hand across the sheet, flattening it and stared at it.

A fire of rage flared up in her suddenly and she wanted to tear the page to shreds. She shoved it back into her purse, angry at it, angry at him, angry at herself, even. She threw her purse to the floor between her feet and dropped her head to the table, burying her face in her arms.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and in the moment of startled frenzied turning, she half expected to see Brian standing behind her. Instead, it was Molly.

Molly scowled. "I couldn't get my mani-pedi without you, it didn't feel right."

"Why on earth not?" Emma asked.

"Because you're supposed to be there and it's lonely without you," Molly replied. She sat down across from Emma. She paused. "And also because I feel like shit for snapping at you."

"Good, you should," Emma answered. She looked away.

Molly sighed, "I'm really sorry Em, I was totally out of line."

Emma nodded, "You were."

"I know this needs to happen on your own time, your own way," Molly said. "I just... God damn it, Em, I just want this to work, you know? I just want everything to be okay again, like it was before."

Emma frowned, "So do I."

Molly sighed.

Emma felt her tears well up again. She looked at Molly with a sidelong glance. "I'm frightened, Molls," she admitted, "I'm frightened to talk to him. What if he doesn't ---"

"He will, Em," Molly interrupted, "He's Brian. He has always had that - that integrity thing going for him, you know? Most guys don't but Brian does."

Emma nodded. "I'm scared, too, though, that he'll think it's the only reason I give a damn."

*****
"Daddy, this is stupid."

"Shhh."

"No, it’s really stupid. You're being stupid.”

Brian sighed. Baylee was right, really, it was stupid, following Emma through the mall. He had no intention of talking to her, no real purpose for watching her really. But it was like… like being at a zoo and being strangely intrigued – or even fascinated – by the animals in their cages. Not that Emma was an animal or caged, for that matter, but it had that same appeal. He pictured a safari he and Nick and Kevin had once gone on during a tour. Nick had worn the goofy hat and drank beer on the African plains while Kevin bitched about everything from the dry heat to Nick’s foot odor, but Brian had snapped over 5,000 photos on like twelve SD cards.

“I’m hungry,” Baylee whined.

“Fine.”

Abandoning following her somewhere around the Abercrombie and Fitch store front, Brian turned and followed Baylee to the food court, dropped twenty bucks on junk food from Chic-Fil-A and sat down with a plastic tray to one side of the court. Baylee was munching quietly, studying Brian, who kept glancing around the food court, eyes scanning constantly for another sighting of Emma.

“Why didn’t you get anything else?” Baylee asked, gesturing toward Brian’s bowl of cole slaw.

Brian glanced down at the cabbage and carrot mush. He shoved his fork around in it. “I didn’t want anything else,” he said with a shrug.

Baylee watched him push the food around. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Brian answered. Baylee raised an eyebrow.

Over Baylee’s shoulder, Brian saw her. Emma. She’d returned from the far end of the mall, carrying a pretzel, and as he watched, she walked swiftly across the food court, glancing behind her, and lowered herself into a chair, staring off into the distance beyond her.

“Hurry up, okay? I wanna go home,” Brian said quickly. He slowly rested his hand against his cheek, blocking Emma’s view of him as she did a sweeping glance across the food court.

“Of course you do,” Baylee muttered. “You always want to go home. We never do anything fun anymore.”

Momentarily distracted, Brian raised his eyebrow back at his son. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. We never do anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian argued, “Of course we do.”

Baylee rolled his eyes. “We really don’t, actually,” he said.

Brian frowned, “I can’t believe you’re saying that. Just the other day we ….” His voice trailed off. What had they done recently? Surely something. “You go to school every day,” Brian argued, even though he knew it was a weak argument.

“That does not count as doing something,” Baylee responded.

Brian scowled, “You sound like your mother,” he snapped.

As soon as he’d said it, he regretted it.

Baylee looked at him like he’d just been slapped. Baylee set his jaw. “You’re a jerk.”

Molly suddenly appeared at Emma’s table, and Brian watched as the two girls talked, his heart heavy at the negative mention of Leighanne. He felt the muscles in his jaw flex- tightening and loosening as he stared across the food court.

“EARTH TO DAD,” Baylee shouted, breaking into a reverie Brian hadn’t really realized he’d fallen into. Baylee waved his hand in front of Brian’s face and Brian shook his head as he came to. Baylee’s face was pained, annoyed, and strangely free from the weight of his hair. Brian stared at his son, feeling like a different person was sitting across from him, and he swallowed hard, almost unable to recognize the little boy that he and Leighanne had raised. That hair – the hair Leigh had worked so hard to cultivate – it was gone. His eyes strayed back in Emma’s direction as his stomach rolled at the thought of what Leighanne would’ve said if she could see Baylee with this hack of a haircut…

Baylee turned, following Brian’s line of sight and landing on the two girls from the salon – including the one they’d followed all over the mall. He turned back to Brian and scoffed. “You wanna talk about mom?” he challenged, “Yeah? Let’s talk about Mom. Let’s talk about how pissed off mom would be seeing you act like a total jerk following her around,” Baylee demanded, pointing in Emma’s direction. “You’re acting like Uncle Nick.”

Brian’s eyes met Baylee’s. “Uncle Nick? Baylee, you don’t know anything about this, okay?”

“I know you’ve been checking out some girl all day,” Baylee snapped.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything about it,” Brian retorted.

“She needs to go away.”

“What?”

Baylee stood up, abandoned his tray there on the table, and started across the food court. Brian’s palms filled with sweat. “Baylee,” he hissed. He jumped to his feet and rushed after his son, but caught his foot on a chair, tripped, stumbled, and only regained balance by leaning on a table. Baylee was already halfway to Emma by the time Brian refocused. “Shit,” he growled, hurrying after him.

*****
“Hey Lady!”

Emma looked up, expecting to see a confrontation happening a few yards away, but instead found Baylee Littrell staring right at her. Molly looked up too, saw Baylee, looked over Baylee and saw Brian and gasped. Emma glanced at Brian, whose eyes were locked desperately on his son. She looked back at Baylee’s determined, anger-filled face.

“You need to leave Dad alone,” he snapped.

Emma blinked in surprise, “Leave your dad a- alone?”

“Yeah,” Baylee nodded, “I’ve seen you a few times around town, you seem to show up everywhere we go. I dunno who you are, or what your big idea is, but my Dad is married, okay? You need to leave him alone because he’s married and you’re making him look like a stupid player like my Uncle Nick, okay? So go away.”

Molly covered her mouth.

Baylee glared at Emma. “Just quit being around and stuff. You’re not wanted.”

Emma’s mouth flopped like a fish’s.

Brian rushed up behind Baylee. “Baylee, stop it.” He glanced at Emma and Molly, his face pale, his eyes bright with nerves. Molly noticed his hands were shaking as he took hold of Baylee’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m sorry.” He pulled Baylee toward him, turning him. “I’m sorry,” he added again. He started to walk away.

Molly looked at Emma, her eyes flashing, pushing Emma forward mentally.

“It’s okay,” Emma said, “He’s just a kid.”

Brian paused and turned, “He’s being – he’s rude.”

“He’s upset.” Emma stood up. “It’s okay. Really.”

“It’s not okay,” Baylee yelled, yanking free of Brian’s grasp. He looked at Emma, “You’re making him act crazy and stupid and my mom’s dead but he’s still married to her.”

Emma’s eyes softened and she looked at Baylee. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she said. Her eyes shot to Brian’s, then back to Baylee’s, “About your mom.”

Baylee glowered at Emma.

Brian grabbed Baylee by the shoulders. “Sorry again.” He quickly started to steer Baylee away.

“You look good,” Emma called, “Time’s done you service,” she added.

Brian glanced back at her. “You look –“ he faltered. Good was not the adjective he felt he could use. She really didn’t look good. Not really. She looked… well, skinny, for one. He didn’t know what else. Pale maybe. “You’re taller.”

“Five two,” Emma replied, knowing the struggle he’d just had with the word good. She smiled sadly, “Same as always.”

“It’s been awhile.”

Emma nodded, “Yeah. April 17, 1993.”

Bri bit his lip. “…Yeah.”

“Yeah.”
Brian nodded, his uncomfortable level having reached its pinnacle, “See you around.”

“Yeah… around.”

Emma watched as Brian hurried to get Baylee out of the mall, hunched over, scolding him as they walked. Molly let out a breath of air. “God,” she whispered, “That did not go well.”

“No,” Emma agreed, “It didn’t.”

Chapter Eight

1989

"Don't forget to drop by Bobby Ray's BBQ before the Commodore's game Friday night to get some pulled pork for dinner. All the funds received at Bobby Ray's will be going toward student activities board. Also we'll be selling homecoming tickets all week in the caf to students and faculty... If anyone's interested in helping to set up the gym, we'll have a sign-up sheet in the caf also..."

Brian had a pencil in his mouth. He was studying his notepad, moving the pencil around. Emma studied him, watched how the curls on his forehead moved with the slight breeze coming in through the open home room windows. She gnawed her lower lip and stared at him.

"...voting will take place next Monday..."

Brian dropped his pencil and it rolled under his desk and to the left. Emma reached for it and held it up to him. He took it, winked and mouthed thank you as he turned back forward. Emma thought her heart might stop. Their finger tips had brushed for the slightest of seconds on the tip of that pencil. She was sure some DNA-like substance was still on her hands.

*****
Molly was talking a mile a minute, her hands moving animatedly. Her boyfriend, Jake, was sitting beside her as she waved her hands about. Jake grinned stupidly at her. Emma wasn't really listening to a word Molly was saying, she was watching Brian and his buddies buying tickets to the homecoming dance. She spooned a mouthful of yogurt and nodded, pretending she was paying attention to her best friend.

"Em?" Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. She glanced back at Brian and smirked before turning to Emma again. "Oh Em."

"Hm?" Emma looked up at Molly, "I'm sorry. What?"

"Brian Littrell?" Molly asked, laughing, "Seriously?"

"I wonder who he's taking to the dance?" Emma murmured.

"I heard he was gonna ask Tracy," Jake answered. He pushed some napkins to Molly as she started fishing around her tray for what she'd done with hers.

"Tracy?" Molly demanded, "Tracy Gilberts?" She snorted, "More like Trampy," she added. She looked at Emma. "Brian would never get with you, ok? So stop being all foo-foo faced over him." She grabbed the napkins Jake had pushed to her.

Emma shrugged, "You never know. And Tracy seems okay."

"Em, she's slept with like every jock in the school," Molly laughed. "Brian's probably like the Holy Grail she's yet to conquer." Jake laughed. But then again, Jake was whooped. Jake laughed at most things Molly said.

Emma couldn't help but wonder though what made people like Brian so different from people like her.

*****
"That weird girl's been scoping you for hours man." Brian's friend Chris said, nodding across the cafeteria. Brian followed Chris' nod and his eyes landed on Emma. She looked away the moment he glanced her direction, refocusing on her animated friend whose name Brian didn't know.

"That's Emma Harris. She's in my homeroom," Brian answered off handedly. He took a sip from the tiny carton of milk he'd grabbed at the lunch line.

"She's got the hots for you," Chris teased.

Brian smiled. "Most do," he replied in his best snobby voice.

Chris threw a balled up napkin at Brian's face, which he quickly blocked, deflecting it into Chris' mystery meat gravy. "Gross," Chris complained, pushing away the tray. "Asshole."

Brian laughed.

"Speaking of ass," said Dean, one of their friends, by way of changing the topic. Dean edged closer. "You get any from Tracy yet, Littrell?"

Brian almost choked on the milk he'd been drinking. He lowered the tiny carton. He could feel his face turning red. "Like I'd tell you, Dean," he joked. He punched Dean in the biceps.

Dean grinned. "Dude you gotta get a ride on that pony, I'm telling you. Best. Sex. Ever." He winked.

"Like Littrell's got anything to compare it to," laughed Mark, another friend of Brian's.

"He's got more then you got to compare," snapped Chris.

Dean laughed, "What? You two make a cute couple but foolin' around with you in your momma's basement doesn't count." The guys all laughed as Chris rolled his eyes and Brian's eyes wandered back to Emma's again. She'd been looking once more and, again, adverted her eyes away from his when he looked her way. "You're at least taking her to Homecoming, right?" Dean demanded.

"I'm going to ask her," Brian said, nodding. "And who knows where it might go from there," he added suggestively.

*****
"So have you and Tracy... you know... done it?" Chris asked Brian as they drove around Lexington in Chris' truck that afternoon.

Brian stared out the window at the storefronts. Truth was, he hadn't done it with anyone yet. It'd been Brian's plan to wait until he got married - something his parents had reminded him was the safest way - God's way, in fact. That sounded so... corny, though. Especially in a culture that pushed sex into every aspect. He ran a hand across his knees. Especially for a guy. Sure purity rings and all that were kinda sexy on a girl, but on a guy? Bri swallowed. He hadn't even dared to mention this dream to Chris, his best friend. "Nawh," he muttered, "We haven't."

"You gonna take Mark's advice?" Chris demanded, "On homecoming night?"

Brian shrugged.

"You gotta do it soon," Chris said in a knowing voice, like he wasn't a world-class dork and the girls didn't laugh at the mere idea of doing anything - even dating - poor Chris. "Tracy's not the kinda girl that hangs around all day. She's after one thing and one thing only."

Brian shrugged again. "She's a girl, of course she's after more than that. Our relationship is more than sex."

"No relationship with Tracy is about more than sex," laughed Chris.
Brian scowled.

"She's gonna ditch you if you don't sex her up, Brian," said Chris.

Brian looked at his fingers and picked absently at his thumbnail. "She's different with me, okay, Chris? It's different."

"Don't you want to get laid?" Chris demanded, "Tracy's like the perfect opportunity for you."

Brian shrugged, and, reaching for the dial on the radio, changed the subject.

*****
"Guess who just asked me to go to Homecoming?" Molly accosted Emma in the school hallway the next day.

Emma was shoving books into her locker. "Who?"

"Jake."

Emma looked at Molly. "I would hope he would considering he's your boyfriend," she commented. "I thought you meant somebody else."

"Well it's exciting anyway, he like formally asked me and bought the tickets and stuff," Molly argued, obviously put off that Emma hadn't squealed excitedly with her. "Anybody ask you yet?" she demanded.

Emma shrugged. "Not yet."

"Well there, see? At least I got asked by someone."

Emma slammed the locker door shut and walked away, carrying her notebook for homeroom. She set herself down in the desk she always sat in, and watched as the other students filtered into the room. Brian came in side-by-side with Chris, joking and laughing under their breath. Chris sat in the chair next to Emma and Brian in his usual spot ahead of that. Brian turned to continue the conversation with Chris while their teacher was busy writing on the board before the bell rang.

"I'm serious dude, I'm not dating her because she's easy, if you know what I'm saying," Brian was commenting.

"You got to knock her though," Chris replied, "It's that simple."

Emma felt her cheeks grow red at the conversation they were having. She stared down at her notebook.

"Any girl that's after sex and doesn't get it would drop you like an old hat," Chris was saying. He glanced to his left and saw Emma. "Yo, Harris," he said to attract her attention. When she looked up, he asked, "If you wanted to have sex with Brian and he didn't put out would you dump him?"

Emma looked at Brian, her mouth run dry as the Sahara, and Brian smiled gently and apologetically at her. "I don't want to have sex with Brian," she stammered, taken off guard, "I - I want to have sex when I get married." She turned away. Chris started laughing, but she could feel Brian's eyes boring holes through her and Chris' noise became far off and faded.

*****
Emma was standing against the wall in the school gymnasium at the dance, alone, her arms wrapped around herself as a slight chill slipped down her bare back. The dress Molly had helped her pick out at JC Pennys was a little bit more revealing than her momma would've had her in but she'd hoped that she'd be wearing it while holding Brian's arm - even though the odds of that were so slim, she'd picked the gown thinking of him. It was pale yellow with a low cut back and tiny rhinestones that glittered across the bodice. But nobody had really noticed her, standing off to the side. Her hair was up in a pile on top of her head, something that Molly had concocted that had taken way too much hair spray to accomplish.

Now she'd been abandoned, left holding a plastic cup of lemonade, watching Molly and Jake dance together on the floor. They'd come and talked to her - Jake had actually been the one to bring the lemonade over, and had even offered to dance with her, but she'd declined. Her eyes wandered from the two love birds as they got mushy and close, despite the tempo of the song, and she found herself watching Brian and Tracy across the gym.

Tracy was wearing a teal dress that barely covered her butt, her hair teased up to a poofy cloud that glowed with the lights in the room. Brian was a good dancer, something that didn't surprise Emma at all since Brian had always been nimble, even when they were kids. She smiled at the thought of Brian way back then... not that a lot had really changed, other than their closeness.

See, as much as Brian either didn't recognize it or didn't acknowledge it, they'd once been friends in Sunday School, when they were kids. Emma had shared her crayons with Brian and he'd called her his best friend and they'd been buddies for a long time after that until Brian got old enough to sing choir and then they didn't ever have time together because Brian got sick, then he was a math geek, then he was on the baseball team and now he was popular and Emma was still just that kid that shared crayons that time when they studied Moses in the reed baskets when they were 4.

But she'd never stopped liking him.

She watched until Brian finally took Tracy's hands and the two of them floated off the dance floor and out the door of the gym into the night. Emma felt like her heart might break as they left. She put the lemonade down on a table and went to tell Molly that she, too, was leaving to go home. Being at homecoming without a date was bad enough...but watching the guy you were crushing on walk out the door with the school tramp...well, that was way, way worse.

*****
Emma emerged into the parking lot and pulled on a cardigan sweater around her shoulders. She started walking home, heading across the school parking lot to the baseball field, which she usually walked across as a short cut. She was just stepping into the sparse of trees that separated the field from the school's lot when Tracy emerged, pulling the shoulder of her dress back on. She scowled as she walked by.

Emma paused, and stared after her fora brief moment, then glanced at the trees. Her heart started pounding so fast she was certain that he'd be able to hear it as she started forward again. Mentally, she gave herself a pep talk, reminding herself to speak coherently.

Brian was sitting on one of the benches, staring out at the field, his tie undone and hanging in two long tails from his neck. He was staring at his shoes. Emma moved slowly, hesitantly, towards him. She stepped on a twig and he jumped and turned and his eyes landed on her and they stared at one another across the distance between them...

Chapter Nine

1989

"Hey." The air in front of Brian's mouth crystalized with the word in the chill. He slid his hands into his pockets as he stood there.

"Hey," Emma answered. She pulled her sweater tighter.

"Have a good time at the dance?" Brian asked. His voice was thick, though the words he spoke seemed light. He rocked on his feet from the ball of his toes to his heel and back up again.

Emma shrugged, "It was okay," she replied.

"Who did you go with?"

"Nobody asked me," she answered. "I didn't even dance." Brian turned and looked across the baseball field. Emma hesitated. "What's wrong with Tracy?" she asked finally, "She looked upset."

Brian shrugged. "She wanted different things than I did."

Emma stepped closer to him, staring at his silhouetted form against the lights streaming across the diamond he was staring out at. She reached his side and stared up at the contours of his face. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It just wasn't meant to be is all," Brian answered. He looked at Emma. "You look..." his eyes swept her. "Tall," he finished.

"It's been awhile," Emma supplied, "Since Sunday School, I mean."

Brian smiled sadly, then turned away. "You look good, too."

"Thanks," she said.

He took a deep breath, then turned back to her. "No sense wasting such a beautiful dress," he said, holding out his hand.

Emma stared blankly at him a long moment. "What?" she whispered.

Brian grasped her hand and pulled her into him. His aftershave filled her nose and his hand slid down her back. She leaned into his chest, her hands on his shoulders, her senses overloaded, mind spinning, and he rested his cheek against her head and rocked her gently, right there beside the chainlink fence of the baseball field.

"This feels weird without music," she joked, unsure what else to say.

Brian laughed, and moved his face so his mouth was close to her ear and whisper-sang, "I'm not that kind of guy who can take a broken heart... so don't ever leave... I don't want to see us part..."

Emma breathed deeply his after shave and the fresh cut grass as he rocked her gently.

"I'll be loving you forever... Just as long as you want me to be... I'll be loving you forever... All this love's for you and me..."

When he'd finished and slowly stopped rocking, she looked up at him and whispered, "I - I was hoping you'd ask me. To the dance."

Brian swallowed and held her out at arm's length. He smiled, sweeping his eyes over her. "I would've been very lucky to escort you, if I had," he said. Then he looked at his watch. "Let me walk you home."

Emma nodded. She felt somehow... let down by his response, like he'd answered in a way to eclipse the awkwardness of the situation. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. She wasn't the type that Brian Littrell would go out with. She was just... her. But he was a gentleman, and now he was walking her home. She felt strangely numb as they walked across the field.

"I'm sorry about Chris the other day," Brian said as they reached the sidewalk, "In homeroom. That was really rude of him."

Emma felt her cheeks flush. No wonder Brian didn't want her. The way she'd answered, blubbering on about marriage and all. He probably was petrified of her, or thought she was like Amish or something. "It's fine," she answered.

"No, really it isn't," Brian replied, "It made you uncomfortable."

Emma shrugged. "I'm fine, though," she answered. She didn't know what words to say to redeem herself.

They fell silent until they'd reached Emma's house. It wasn't that far from the school, only a couple blocks, but it felt like an eternity. They stopped on the side walk out front and Brian turned to Emma. "I think it's great," he said quietly, "Wanting to wait until you're married." He licked his lips. "Tracy doesn't think so, I mean... I don't know. But I - I agree with you. I think we're probably the only two people in all of Lexington that feel that way, but... I agree with you. About sex. About marriage." He paused. "I think you're beautiful... for wanting to save yourself like that. I think you're beautiful for..." he paused. "Well, you're just beautiful."

Emma felt butterflies in her stomach.

Brian leaned forward and kissed her softly.

"Thank you," she whispered, "For the dance."

Brian smiled. "Goodnight, Emma Harris." And he turned on the ball of his foot and started walking away. Emma stood watching him fade in and out of the light of the street lamps before she went inside the house.

Chapter Ten

April, 1993


"Soooo... I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this, seeing as you're my girlllll and all," Brian drawled out, flopping against the locker next to Emma's, "But I know you like things all classic and formal and all and..." he grinned, "Emma Harris, will you go with me to the prom?"

Emma looked up from the stack of books she was busily trying to slam into her locker and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She smiled, then turned to her locker and continued pushing the books in. "And what if I already got asked by another cute boy and I already said yes to him?" she demanded.

Brian shrugged, "Then I'd ask who that boy is so I can go tell him you're my girl."

"It was Jake," Emma said.

"Jake? Well I'd beat that homeboy down..." he winked. "Or maybe I'd ask Molly."

Emma got the books into the locker. "You really wanna take me to prom?" she asked, closing the metal door and turning to him. She rested her hands against his letterman jacket and he pulled her against him, pressing their foreheads and noses against each other. He grinned down into her eyes. "Really truly, Mr. Littrell?"

"Really truly, Miss Harris," he responded. He pecked her mouth softly with his own. "Besides, a little bird told me that you and I are one of the couples nominated prom king and queen."

"You're kidding?" Emma laughed.

"I'm not at all." Brian rubbed her back softly.

Emma shook her head, "You're a liar, Brian Littrell."

Brian smirked, "You really wanna take that chance that I'm lying and blow me off and show up at prom with Jake and end up not getting crowned queen?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'll go with you to prom, but I'm not being crowned anything." She kissed his chin.

Brian laughed, "I can just picture you up there with the tiara and the flowers and the big frilly pink dress and --" he paused. "You are going to wear pink, right?"

"I always wear yellow, you know that."

"I thought maybe since it's senior prom you'd go all traditional like."

Emma shook her head, "Have I ever done anything traditionally?"

Brian smiled, "Nawh, not you. You're a rebel."

The bell rang overhead.

"And speaking of rebel, I gotta get me to class or Wilson's gonna skin me alive." He leaned down, with his piercing blue eyes and dropped a kiss on her cheek, his hair hanging over his forehead. His mouth was hot and she could smell peppermint from the gum he was chewing when he opened it against her skin. "I love you," he said in a low, boyish tone.

"Not as much as I love you," Emma sing-songed back at him.

Brian held her out at arms length and studied her for a moment as the hallways began to empty of other students. His eyes faded from amusement to absolute seriousness. "I want to marry you," he confessed. The moment the words were out of his mouth, his ears turned pink.

"You do not," Emma laughed.

"No I do," Brian replied, the seriousness fueling a tone of certainty. He squeezed her shoulders with his hands, "More than anything else in this world, I want to marry you and have lots and lots of babies with you. And have a farm and go to the baptist church every Sunday and thank Jesus for putting you in my life."

"You've gone crazy," Emma answered.

Brian shook his head, "No this is the sanest I've ever been. I can almost picture all them chickens and cows we'd have..."

Emma laughed again, "Okay, enough funny boy. I'm going to class. Go to class before Wilson sticks you in detention." She kissed his cheek, then hugged her book to her chest and started walking away, toward her class. She'd gotten only about ten feet when she felt his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She turned around, their eyes meeting.

"Em," Brian said deeply, thickly, staring right into her. "I know we're only in high school... I know we're just kids and that they all say we dunno what we really want yet... but..." he shook his head and took a deep breath, "But you and me, we're different. We're different then every other person in this school, you know? You and me, what we got it's special. It's forever, you know?"

Emma could feel her heart slamming in her chest. "Brian..."

"Em, I love you," Brian said in a husky voice. He kissed her swiftly as the second bell - the one indicating they were officially tardy for class - rang shrilly overhead. Emma melted into Brian's bracing arm as his mouth pressed against hers. After a long moment, he pulled back, "Emma, marry me."

"Now?" she asked, her voice rising in a panic. "Brian," She laughed, "We're not even graduated yet. People will think we're in trouble."

Brian's eyes sparkled. "I don't care," he answered. He kissed her once again quickly. "I wanna marry you. I wanna love you forever. I will never love another person as much as I love you."

Emma's eyes filled with tears.

"I'll get a job," he suggested, "We can do it, we can get an apartment..."

She laughed, "You're serious."

Brian's eyes smoldered into hers. "Completely," he replied.

*****
It was the night before prom, they were in Brian's truck at a boat landing a town over where Brian knew no cops would look for them. They'd thrown blankets and pillows into the truck bed and were laying amongst them, staring up into the night sky. Brian's arm was around her, and she was clutching his chest. His heart was pounding, but so was hers.

"Did you pack?" Brian asked quietly.

"Yes," Emma whispered.

Brian rubbed her back.

"I can't wait to be Mrs. Brian Littrell," Emma said quietly.

"I can't wait to be Mr. Brian Littrell," he laughed.

"You already are Mr. Brian Littrell," Emma giggled.

"Yeah, but I'll be a real mister," Brian said with a smirk.

Emma shook her head, "You're crazy."

"I think we both are," Brian answered with a laugh.

And it's true. The plan was crazy. Emma, who had insisted on getting a white prom dress despite her mother's insistance that it wasn't traditional, would be picked up for the Tate's Creek Senior Prom the next night - April 17 - but the prom was not where Brian would take her. Instead, they were going to drive to Tennessee - specifically to Nashville. They'd sent applications, forging parental consent signatures, and were going to be married at the Nashville State Courthouse. They were going to go to prom and come back three days later a married couple.

Brian kissed her forehead, then rolled so that he was leaning over her, looking down at her. He stared into her eyes. "I love you," he said thickly.

"I love you," Emma replied.

Brian's mouth was warm on hers, their tongues colliding somewhere in the middle, dancing and swirling together. Brian's hands wandered along her skin, caught hold of the hem of her t-shirt and slid underneath, running against the softness of her belly, slowly moving up until his fingertips brushed the lacy detail on her bra. His fingers moved across her as their tongues moved and she rotated her hips, grinding herself against him. His hands slipped under her bra, fingertips touching her bare breasts and he squeezed them firmly, his hard on growing against her. She pulled away from his kiss and gasped out, "Brian, Brian... stop..."

"Why?" he asked.

"We ain't married yet," she gasped. She could barely breathe, barely see. The stars and the overhanging trees were far off blurs. Brian's hands were still under her shirt, his body still pressed against hers, his breath still hot on her cheek. "Please."

"But... tomorrow..." Brian whispered.

Emma shook her head.

He rolled off her, and they lay there on their backs in the truck bed, breathing hard and staring up at the night sky. Brian bit his lip and tried to think of anything except the lust that was running through his veins.

Emma could feel her body screaming, begging for Brian. She looked at him, laying there, gnawing his lip. Her eyes traveled every contour of him, where the light shone down in patches through the leaves overhead. "What's marriage anyways?" she whispered.

Brian's eyes turned to hers. "What?"

"Marriage," she whispered, "It's a document that says we're married right? It's a piece of paper with our names on it, saying that we promise to love each other forever, isn't it?"

Brian nodded.

"Got a pen?"

Brian stared at her, confused for a moment, then realized what she was suggesting and leaped out of the bed of the truck over the side of it like a wild gazelle and she giggled as she heard him tearing through the stuff in the truck. A moment later, he was leaping over the side again, holding a pen and a yellow legal pad. He bit the cap off the pen and spit it into the corner of the truck bed and quickly started writing.

We, Brian Thomas Littell and Emma-Lou Harris, solemnly swear from this day forward to love each other, heart and soul; to take care of each other, body and mind; to be together in the end of every argument and hardship, to hold each other's hands when we're sick and be there for each other when we're crying...

He looked up at her, "Anything else?"

Emma had tears in her eyes. "It's perfect."

Brian scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page. "I love you Emma," he said, "I'll love you for all of my life, every single day, always."

She took the pen from him and wrote out her own dainty signature. "I love you Brian," she answered.

They lay there on their stomachs, staring down at the page, grinning like silly children. Then Brian turned to her. "I love you, Mrs. Brian Thomas Littrell."

Emma leaned over and kissed him deeply, pulling his face into hers, her hair wrapping around his hair and she pushed the legal pad away. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he rolled to be leaning over her once more, and Emma whispered, "Make love to me."

And he did.

Chapter 11

April 17, 1993

The next morning, Emma felt different. She felt like she was holding a secret. She grinned, the page of legal pad folded carefully and tucked into her purse. The school hallways felt flurried, but they reminded her of the confetti and excitement of Times Square on New Years Eve, and she felt light inside. Brian walked with his arm around her shoulders, whispering love-yous into her ear all the way to her locker, where he kissed her gently.

Emma grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. "You're still planning on making me an honest woman tonight, right?" she asked, smirking.

Brian laughed, "I love you, Mrs. Littrell," he replied under his breath.

She released his shirt and he winked, "I'll see you at lunch."

"Love you, Brian," she called after him as he walked away.

*****
Molly grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her aside in the girls' locker room during second period. The other girls filed around them, heading out to the tennis courts. "What's up with you?" Molly demanded. When Emma flushed, she added, "And don't try to deny anything's up with you; I'm not blind. Dish."

Emma waited for the last of the girls to go by, then she said, "I slept with Brian."

Molly's eyes widened, "But I thought you said --"

"We're getting married."

"What?" Molly's breath was caught in her throat. "Married? What?!"

"Brian and I... we're.." Emma hesitated. "Okay look you can't tell anyone this okay? It's a secret. We're going to Tennessee tonight. Instead of Prom. We're going to Nashville and we're getting married in Nashville. Well technically I guess we're married now - we -" Emma glanced out the door and, deciding they wouldn't be missed, waved Molly back into the locker room where Emma had placed her purse into one of the lockers. She pulled out the legal pad's sheet and unraveled it and stuck it out to Molly.

Molly's eyes filled with tears as she stared down at it, "Oh my God," she whispered. "It's beautiful." She looked up at Emma, and her voice caught in her throat, "Oh Ems, you're so lucky."

Emma grinned, "I know."

Molly wrapped her arms around Emma and squeezed her tight. "I'm so happy for you, Emma."

"I'm so happy for myself," Emma whispered, squeezing Molly back.

*****
Emma was counting moments down 'til lunch. There were only thirty left. She was listening to the most boring history lecture ever given, and twirling her hair around the tip of her pencil. Her teacher's monotone voice washed over the classroom, droning on and on and on, and she found her mind prancing happily over the plans she and Brian were ready to embark upon that night. She imagined the air rushing through the windows, rustling her hair, and the Nashville skyline coming into view...

He was sitting across the room and kept sneaking glances back at her. She could tell the way Chris was smirking her direction that Brian had told his best friend, just as she'd done, and their eyes met more than once. I love you, Brian mouthed to her with a wink.

Suddenly the speaker cackled and a voice interrupted the lecture. All eyes turned to the speaker. "Excuse me, Mr. Morrison," came the secretary's voice, "I need to ask you to send Brian Littrell up to the principal's office. He's got a phone call."

Mr. Morrison glanced Brian's direction. "Go on, son," he said.

Brian's eyes clouded with worry. Emma sat up straighter, and was tempted to follow him but he shook his head, and ducked out the classroom door.

*****
See, to Backstreet Boys fans, the phone call that Brian received that day was the beginning. It was a historical time marker of when Brian became a Backstreet Boy... but for Emma Harris of Lexington, Kentucky, that phone call was the end of the dreams they'd shared together. It was the annulment of a marriage that had never really happened.

Chapter Twelve

"Baylee Thomas Wylee Littrell, you get back here," Brian shouted as Baylee bulleted up the walkway to the front door of the house. "I am not done talking to you."

Baylee grabbed the knob on the front door and slammed it open. He could feel every inch of his skin crawling with anger and hatred. He couldn't even look at his father without wanting to shout and scream. How dare he move away from everything that his mom had worked so hard on, just to come here to Kentucky to move into some stupid girl's house...? Baylee ran for the kitchen and grabbed the wireless phone from its cradle. He was just about to run up the stairs when Brian ducked in his way, blocking the stairwell.

"Baylee!" Brian shouted, "C'mon, I'm not done talking to you."

"Then go talk to Emma," Baylee snapped. He tried to duck around his father, but Brian dodged and blocked again.

Brian shook his head, "Baylee, it's not like what you're thinking okay; I just needed some comfort and this house is -"

"No dad I get it," Baylee yelled, "You needed comfort so you're cheating on mom."

"I'm not cheating on mom," Brian snapped. "If you hadn't gone off on Emma I never would've even talked to her. Don't you get that? I'm here because this house is --"

"Don't lie to me!" Baylee yelled.

"I'm not lying!" Brian yelled back, "Baylee, this house is comforting to me, it's where I spent a lot of my time when I lived at home, it's like home to me itself, without living with my parents, and --"

Baylee ran forward, trying to rush around Brian but Brian caught him and Baylee pushed against him, making Brian tumble backwards onto the stairs. The boys landed in a heap, like a tackle in football, and Baylee quickly regained balance and tried to push up the rest of the way onto the stairs. Brian wrapped his arms around Baylee's waist and Baylee kicked, his foot coming in contact with Brian's stomach, making Brian let go and Baylee used the opportunity to squirm by and rush to his bedroom.

When the door slammed, Brian lay still, staring up at the ceiling and breathing short, ragged breaths. A feeling of guilt flooded him, like a dam that had been opened. He wasn't cheating on Leighanne. He hadn't known Emma was in town, he thought she'd be long gone by now. He'd just wanted a home, something - anything - that was familiar. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled so he was sitting up, hot tears coming to his eyes.

The tears he cried weren't just about the fight he'd just had with Baylee. They weren't just about Leighanne and her absence and the need for a home that wasn't the one he'd built upon with her. But they were also for Emma, for the hurt look in her eyes when she'd said April 17, for the way she looked so frail, his inability to tell her that she looked good. He wondered what paths had befallen her, why she didn't live here in the Harris house, where her parents were, where she was staying, and what stories she had, like he had, that made her the woman that had stood before him today - someone entirely not the girl he had once been in love with.

He felt guilty, too, because the story that she had began with a heart break. He'd never really allowed himself to think about it before - about the plans they'd made and the things he'd taken and given to her - and he'd sunk himself into the Backstreet Boys, into becoming Something and succeeding... but Emma had spent all that time thinking about it, hadn't she? He wondered if she ever got married, if she ever had children...

Suddenly Baylee was at the top of the stairs again, holding the phone out.

"Uncle Nick wants to talk to you."

Brian stared up the stairs at Bayee's figure, at the outstretched arms with the phone... Brian stood up and climbed the stairs heavily. Baylee shoved the telephone into Brian's hand and walked away, slamming his bedroom door. Brian stared at the door a long moment, taking a deep breath, then raised the phone to his ear, and started towards his own room. "Hallo?"

"Bri?" Nick's voice was thick with concern. "Brian what's going on?"

Brian felt his throat swell at the sound of Nick's voice. He turned into his room, closed the door, and sank into his bed, curling his knees to his chest. "I need you, Nick," he whispered.

"What?" Nick's voice was now confused. "Need me? Bri, what the hell's wrong? What happened? What's Baylee squwaking about? Bri?"

"It hurts Nick," Brian gasped out, "I miss my wife, and I'm nothing but a disappointment to my son and to myself and to Emma and --"

"Who the hell is Emma?"

Brian pressed his face into the pillows on the bed. "Nick, please. I need you."

*****
Lauren was sitting on the couch in the living room when Nick came into the room. She looked up, "Hey babe," she said. She patted the cushion beside her. On the TV was a football game and she held out a bucket of popcorn as Nick dropped down onto the couch. He had his cell phone in his hand, and he beat a tattoo against his palm with it as he stared at the TV, thinking. He looked sidelong at Lauren, studying her a moment before her eyes traveled to meet his. She smiled, then, seeing the expression in his eyes, the smile faded. "Nick?"

"I gotta go to Kentucky," he replied.

Lauren sighed and put the popcorn on the coffee table in front of them. She crawled forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Is he okay?" she asked simply.

Nick shook his head, "I dunno."

Lauren frowned. She kissed the side of Nick's head. "You're a good friend," she whispered.

Nick wrapped his arms around her waist. "Will you come with me?" he asked.

Lauren pulled back and he pressed his cheek against her stomach, staring up at her. She stared into his eyes, hesitating. "I- what about work?"

Nick shrugged, "Just for a bit? Please?"

Lauren nodded, "Okay Nick."

He kissed her smooth skin softly. "Thank you."

*****
Jake watched from the couch as Emma came into the house. "Hey Em," he shouted. But she didn't seem to hear him, she rushed by and he heard her footfalls thunder on the stairs and a moment later the guest room door slammed. He started to stand up when Molly came in the house, too. He raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?" he asked.

Molly sighed and kicked her shoes off at the door before entering the living room and climbing onto Jake's chair beside him. He, too, was watching the football game. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her face into Jake's chest, and whispered, "I think she's giving up."

"Giving up?" Jake looked perplexed. "Why giving up?"

"Baylee Littrell yelled at her," Molly replied.

Jake frowned. "She talked to Brian?"

"Sort of."

Chapter Thirteen

Nick reached up and hit the GPS. "Fuck you," he said to it. He pulled the car over. "God damn it." Lauren was biting her lip to keep from laughing. Nick whipped the car door open and got out and leaned against the back passanger door, arms folded. He spit onto the gravel road.

Lauren took a deep, steadying breath - he'd only get worse if she laughed at this too soon - and got out of the car and walked around, leaning against the car beside him. She glanced up at him, squinting against the sunlight. "You could always ask for directions," she said.

Nick glanced sidelong at her. "No," he answered.

Lauren licked her teeth and turned to stare straight ahead, at the wide field across the street from them. They'd passed the same field about a hundred times since they'd left the airport, following the direction the GPS had been giving them to get to Brian's house. Nick spit onto the ground again and Lauren turned so she was back-to him so she could repress another laugh.

"I'm a man, I don't need directions," Nick said, delayed so entirely that Lauren knew he'd been weighing his options in the silence that had befallen them.

Lauren shrugged, "Being man enough to admit you need help is sexy," she said. She turned and walked around the car and climbed back into the passanger side. Lauren peeked out the window to see what Nick was doing. She watched as he paced back and forth a moment, then pull his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Hey Brian, it's me," he said into the phone, "I need directions." Lauren covered her mouth to keep a guffaw from reaching his ears. Nick was too easy. "Dude, I dunno where we are. There's a big ass field," Nick was saying. "I just need directions from the big ass field."

*****
"Well ain't Kentucky a hoot," Nick called when they finally arrived to the house. Brian and Baylee were spilling out of the house to greet them. Nick slammed the driver's side door and came around the nose of the car just as Baylee flung himself at him. Nick shook his head, "Who knew there were so many damn fields?"

Lauren rolled her eyes and smiled, then embraced Brian in a friendly way, "Hey mister," she said. She gently kissed his cheek, then held up her hand for a high-five from Baylee. "Nice hair cut, buddy."

"Yeah, dude, you didn't just get a haircut," Nick said, "You got'em all cut."

Baylee looked at Nick and laughed, "You're crazy, uncle Nick."

"This house is gorgeous," Lauren commented, eyes roving over the detailed work on it. She glanced at Nick, "Isn't it gorgeous?"

Nick glanced at the house, "Uh huh."

Brian and Nick started unloading the suitcases and all as Baylee led Lauren to the front porch, talking animatedly about some stuff he'd been learning at school. Once they were out of ear shot, Nick smacked Brian's arm. "Hey, how're you doin' anyways, Rok?"

Brian sighed, "I'm okay."

Nick hoisted a couple bags over his shoulder. "You look better than you did last I saw you," he admitted. He leaned against the bumper. "So... who's this Emma chick you mentioned on the phone?" Nick raised an eyebrow.

Brian cleared his throat and looked at his shoes. "She was a girl that I dated in high school."

"Nice." Nick's voice was reverent. "She hot?"

"She was," Brian said.

"Missin' a couple teeth? Got Pipi Longstocking hair now?" Nick asked, "Is she a redneck?"

Brian laughed, "You're an asshole."

"But you love me," Nick grinned. "Seriously - was? How do chicks get unhot?"

Brian shrugged, "I dunno. I don't think it's so much as unhot as much as..." he paused. "I feel guilty," he admitted, "Because she looks like someone who's been through hell and I know that I at least started the hell."

Nick gnawed his lip, unsure what to say to that. Finally, he looked up and said, "So this is her house, huh?"

"It was her family's when we were in school, yeah."

"So how come she doesn't live here?"

"I have no idea."

Lauren and Baylee had disappeared inside some time ago, but now Lauren emerged from the front door onto the porch. She stared across the yard at the two boys. "Are ya'll coming inside today or should I get out some sleeping bags for you?"

"Yeah yeah yeah!" Nick yelled, "We're comin', hold ya horses!" Lauren gave him the finger and disappeared into the house. Nick looked at Brian. "I love that woman."

Brian smiled. "Ya'll work good together."

Nick stood up. "You do know that I want full details on this Emma chick, right?" he asked.

Brian rolled his eyes, "I pretty much just told you all there is to tell you."

"I mean details dude," Nick said, wiggling his eyebrows as Brian hoisted a suitcase out of the back of the car. "Did you sleep with her?"

Brian nodded.

Nick grinned.

*****
It was later that night, the star were out overhead. Lauren had gone inside to help Baylee with some homework, and left Brian and Nick reclining in folding chairs in the backyard. The smell of the barbequed chicken they'd had for dinner still hung in the air, the brickquettes not quite dark in the pit, but glowing red ambers rolling as they smoldered and collapsed upon themselves. The two boys each were clutching a tall, dark bottle of beer and Nick had shucked off his shirt. Brian's voice had just faded from the darkness, finishing telling Nick everything about his relationship with Emma, and now Brian was waiting for a response from Nick.

Nick had closed his eyes. He was imagining the version of Brian that had stepped off the plane back in 1993, wearing overall jeans and a basketball jersey. He imagined that Brian in the story he'd just heard, imagined that Brian wanting to run away to Tennessee and get married. "You were just kids," he said at least. "Ya'll didn't really know what you were doing back then."

Brian swallowed a mouthful of beer and shook his head, "No, Nick, we knew. Even lookin' back now, so many years later, I can tell ya that I knew fully what I was talkin' about when I asked her, when I signed the paper, you know? I knew. I - I became a man that day."

"Then why were you a boy when I knew you?" Nick questioned.

"Things are different here in Kentucky," Brian answered. "I was a man here, where problems are things like if there's enough milk in the fridge and whether to mow the law Saturday or Sunday. Where my main goal would be to pay rent each month and take care of a woman that I loved. I was ready to do that stuff." He glaced at Nick, "Then I came down to Florida, got into the music business, and the problems were more complex, and we were knee deep in 'em and I tried to get my brain around it, tried to understand everything going on, but it's hard stuff when you're suddenly thrown into a different world. Lou Pearlman and Johnny Wright and all of'em, they took advantage of all of us because none of us were men in that world." Brian smiled sadly. He took another swig of beer. "But here, I was a man."

Somewhere across the backyard, a heat bug issued its cry and Nick took a pull off his bottle. He sighed deeply. "It's nice here," he admitted. "It's nice to get truly quiet, you know? In LA there's always some noise somewhere, even if its just the ocean rolling or some siren somewhere across the city. It's nice when you stop talking that you can hear your own heart beating here, you know?"

Brian smiled.

"It's nice seeing the stars, too," Nick said, "There's more of them than you realize in the city, you know?"

"Yeah there's a lot of'em," Brian agreed.

"They remind me of the fans," Nick laughed.

Brian laughed, too. "You're crazy, Frack."

Nick smiled. "Plus it's nice havin' you around, Frick," he added after a long pause.

Chapter Fourteen

"Stop rammin' the thing up my heels." Lauren grabbed hold of the cart. "Slow. Down."

"I didn't on purpose, you stopped suddenly." Nick pouted.

Lauren glowered. "Then slow down and walk further behind me so you can stop before slamming the cart up my ankles."

"Maybe you should stop more gradually."

"No I'm serious, Nick, stop it." Lauren started walking again, examining the food on the shelves of the grocery store. Brian rolled his eyes at Nick as Nick cheesed broadly in his best friend's direction.

Brian felt sort of like he used to feel when his mother would take him and Harold shopping in the grocery store when they were children. He grabbed hold of the cart, too, and monitored Nick's stopping ability. He really didn't want to listen to him and Lauren argue. Their relationship seemed built on tiny arguments - that's just the way Nick needed it, though. He'd act like a kid, she'd act like a mother. Nick had always sought that sort of a relationship. The fact that Lauren, too, needed that sort of bonding made Brian realize that maybe, just maybe, this was the relationship for Nick. He smiled to himself.

"What're you all Cheshire Cat about over here?" Nick demanded.

Brian laughed, "Nothing."

Nick was solidly distracted, however, when they turned a corner and found a display of football magazines. He picked up one dedicated to the Tenneesee Titans and picked it up eagerly, abandoning the cart altogether. Lauren grabbed hold of it, and mouthed I'll go finish up, keep him busy and wandered away gleefully.

Brian leaned against a pile of beer and stared at the magazine rack as Nick rifled through the Titans' yearbook magazine. His eyes scanned all the hobby and education magazines - National Geographic, Photographer's Digest, Mac World... And finally he stepped forward and picked up Psychology Today and read the headlines off the front cover.

"I never really had you pegged for a psychology type, Littrell," came a familiar voice to Brian's right. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Molly.

"Molly," he said in surprise. He curled the magazine into a roll nervously and felt Nick's eyes on the back of his head, having obviously lowered the Titans book in interest. "I'm sorry about the other day...with Baylee..."

Molly waved her hand, "It's all right." She took a deep breath, shifting her body weight foot to foot. "Look, Emma would kill me if she knew I was talking to you about this but..." Molly chewed her lip a moment, hesitating.

"But...?" Nick intoned over Brian's shoulder, trying to encourage Molly to go on.

Molly's eyes snapped to Nick. "Nick Carter, right?"

Nick's chest puffed up proudly, "That's me."

Molly turned back to Brian. Brian could almost hear the steam let out of Nick behind him as he deflated. Molly leaned closer, "Emma... she's really... she's scared." Molly seemed to be chosing her words extremely carefully. "She's got a lot going on and -" she licked her lips, "- and she really needs a friend."

"What are you, then?" Brian asked.

Molly's eyes cast downward to the floor and she hesitated, "She needs help. Financial help."

Nick edged closer to Brian's back. Molly looked up at Brian's face. His muscles had tightened around the jaw and he was staring down at Molly with an expression of confusion and worry mixed together. "How much?" he asked.

Nick's eyes shot between Molly and Brian.

"A lot," Molly answered.

"For what?" Nick butt in.

Brian waved him off. "How much is a lot?" he asked, "Thousand?"

"Upwards of a hundred thousand," Molly gushed quickly.

"Oh hell nawh," Nick groaned. He grabbed Brian's shoulder, "Dude, c'mon this is crazy."

Brian didn't budge though. He could feel the guilt of what he'd done to Emma years ago surging through his veins. He stared into Molly's eyes for a long time. "She's sick, isn't she?" he asked.

Molly's eyes filled with tears. "We don't know anybody else to turn to Brian. When I heard you were in town, I just prayed maybe your history with her would be enough to move your heart to make you want to help out to keep her alive. She's basically just waiting to die because she can't afford the treatment and the hospital's been knockin' waiting for their payment on the first couple rounds and she can't - she doesn't have any money and -"

"Come to my house for dinner," Brian said, "And we'll talk."

*****
"Dude some random chick comes up to you in the grocery store and asks for enough dough to buy a freaking house and you're just like 'lets have dinner'? Seriously?" Nick was prancing hyperactively around Brian as they made their way back to Lauren and the cart. Nick's voice was shrill with nerves and Brian's hands were pools of sweat. "You dunno what the real situation is, you dunno if this chick's really sick. Dude, it was sooo long ago that you knew these people. They could be like drug smugglers or something. They could have planes, be flyin' to Mexico or something."

"Nick, not everything is a shitty movie plot, ok?" Brian said, rolling his eyes.

"It's not a shitty movie, thank you, I'm in it."

"Did you watch your acting reel from the film, because I did and Nick, it's shitty."

"It wasn't my best performance, but it wasn't really shitty..." Nick shook his head, "No, wait, this isn't about me and my movie, it's about you and this chick being a con artist. Dude, you dunno what's going on, not really. How do you know they don't just wanna swindle you a hundred grand and take off?"

Brian shrugged, "I don't know that. That's why I invited them to dinner."

"So you're gonna feed'em and give them a hundred grand."

"I want details about what is going on, Nick, I want to know what's happening, what she needs help for, everything like that you know? I told you the other day, she looks like she's been through hell and I was the first hard knock she had, walking away when I'd promised to marry her... Nick, I can't just dishonor her even further. I have the opportunity here to help her, to set things right."

"Giving a chick a hundred grand isn't the same as marrying her, Brian, it's a whole 'nother ball game you're playin' here."

Brian took a deep breath, "Nick, it's important that I do this." His eyes met Nick's and the came to a stop. "Emma deserves at least that I hear her out on what's going on."

Nick shrugged, "Whatever dude but I think you're nuts."

*****
Molly was putting away groceries, telling Jake about the conversation she'd had with Brian. "He said for us to go over there and have dinner with him, and we'd talk about it," she was wrapping up. "I feel like that's the least he can do is hear her out."

"The least who can do?"

Jake and Molly both turned to see Emma in the door way. Jake thumbed over Emma's shoulder, "I'll be... you know... somewhere else." He ducked past her and disappeared quickly into the depths of the house.

Emma stepped further into the kitchen, the sea of discarded plastic bags swishing loudly at her feet. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. "Molls?"

Molly put a box of cornbread mix into the cupboard, then turned to face Emma. She took a deep breath. "Em," she said quietly, "I... ran into Brian today... at the grocery store..."

Emma sucked in her breath, "Molly, what did you do?"

Molly reached out a hand and took Emma's hand gently in hers. "Em, I'm sorry, but - I just want to see you be okay."

"You told him?" Emma asked, her voice shaking.

"Not expressly," Molly replied, "He asked if you were sick and I told him that you needed help with medical bills and that it was important and he asked how much and I told him and he wants us to have dinner with him so we can talk about him helping you out. Emma, I told you he'd want to help out."

Emma's face was ashen and her eyes were wide. "Oh my God," she whispered. She felt mortified. "How could you?" she asked.

"Em, you've been avoiding him like crazy, the closest to talking to him you've done was the other day when Baylee came over, and you need help like yesterday, okay? I'm not gonna let you throw away this chance because you're embarassed to ask for help."

"I'll find a way to pay for the bills, I don't need to be begging around Brian Littrell of all people for help!"

"What're you gonna do to get that much money, huh? Rob a bank or two?" Molly shouted, "It's not like you can go be a prostitute - a chick with no hair isn't going to get anywhere in that world, sweetheart. Even your freaking illegal options are really limited, woman."

Emma's eyes were pooled with tears and she reached up and held her fishing cap tighter to her head, the few strands hanging around her face. She turned, shaking her head, and walked out of the kitchen. Molly sighed and dropped the bag of groceries she'd been emptying onto the kitchen table and hurried after Emma, up the stairs. Jake ducked out of the way from where he'd been standing, listening, as the two girls thundred by.

"Leave me alone," Emma cried as Molly followed her into her bedroom, having caught the door before it slammed behind her.

"I'm sorry, that was really cold of me to say that," Molly said apologetically. She grabbed Emma's shoulders, but Emma twisted and freed herself from looking at her friend. She grabbed her duffle bag from the floor. "Em, c'mon, you don't have anywhere else to go, listen to me a second, okay? I love you so much, you're my sister practically. You're closer to me then anyone else, even Jake, and I can't stand the thought that I'm gonna lose you to some disease that we could've beat if we'd just been given the chance. And Brian Littrell -- he owes you so much anyway. Your entire life would've been so diffrent if it wasn't for what he did to you. Emma, you need to let him help, you need to because if you die I don't know what I'd do. Please."

Emma dropped the duffle bag and tears poured over the rims of her eyes. "I feel so helpless," she cried, "I feel so pathetic. I just want to be strong again and confident again and I don't know how to anymore."

Molly stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her best friend, tears coming to her own eyes. "I love you Emma and we're gonna fix this, we're gonna beat this."

"It hurts so much, Molls," Emma whispered, "Being so dependent on everyone. I can't do anything for myself, you know? And I'm so scared."

"It's okay, Em," Molly whispered back, "It's not forever. It's just for a little while. This too shall pass, my friend."

Emma buried her face into Molly's neck, her shoulders shaking.

Chapter Fifteen

Nick ducked into Brian's bedroom. "Laur and I are just about to head out with Baylee," he said. Brian was doing his tie up in the mirror over the dresser, and Nick noticed he had cufflinks on and his shiny black shoes. Brian had combed his hair all nice-like and was looking like some fancy businessman. Nick leaned against the door frame. "Promise me you won't jump into this without thinking, without analyzing?" he pleaded.

Brian nodded, "Nick, I won't do anything stupid, don't worry."

Nick sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "I just don't want you to end up hurt worse then you already are, you know? You're my best friend, Rok, I just want you to be okay, to be able to get back up on your feet."

Brian turned around, having just completed putting his tie on, and was working on weedling a tie tack through it. He smiled, "That means a lot to me, Nick," he said. "Where are ya'll going?"

"I dunno, Lauren found it. Then we're going to a movie, I guess. That ought to afford you a ton of time to talk this all over."

"Thank you," Brian answered, "It's a huge help. I know Baylee would have a cow if he knew she was coming over, I just didn't want that added drama, you know? I don't know what I'd do without you and Lauren. Ya'll are like angels."

Nick grinned.

"Not that you're innocent," Brian quickly added, "Because you are far from it."

Nick laughed as Lauren's voice called his name up the stairs and he winked. "I gotta split. You relax and make sure you ask all the right questions, okay?" Nick pointed at Brian, "Keep your head on and don't get caught up in all those guilty feelings you keep rambling on about."

Brian saluted Nick. "Aye, aye."

Nick ducked out the door. "I'm coming!" he yelled ahead of himself down the stairs to Lauren, who had been just about to call for him yet again.

Brian turned and looked into the mirror again, studying his own features. He reached for the high school year book that he'd had open on his dresser since he'd first seen Emma again, and stared down at the photograph of them from the Homecoming dance in 1992. She was clutching his arm, and his face was more angular, his jaw more defined than it was now. She had more weight to her, her hair hanging in long, dark curls that almost touched the small of her back. He looked up at the mirror and pushed back his cheeks, trying to see that old, prominant jawline he'd had back then in the reflection. He took a deep breath.

Time had changed things, that was for certain.

*****
Emma took deep breaths, trying to steady her pounding heart. She clutched her purse with her shaking hands and stared out the window as Jake drove down familiar streets between Molly's house and the house that she'd grown up in. She felt her stomach twist inside of her as he put on the blinker and the car coasted up the driveway, coming to stop behind a red truck. The kitchen light was on and Emma imagined, for a split moment, that her momma was the reason it was on, that she'd walk through the door and smell home cooked chicken and broccoli with cheese and macaroni salad.

"Now Em," Molly said, turning around and breaking Emma's imaginative situation, "Remember whatever happens tonight that Jake and I love you a whole lot and we're here for you no matter what, okay?"

Emma nodded numbly.

"You ain't asking for charity from a stranger," Molly reminded her, "But help from an old friend."

Emma nodded again. The situation felt incredibly far-off, like it was happening in a dream or on a movie screen. She couldn't believe the audacity that Molly had had confronting Brian, or the way he must think of her, begging for help like this. Emma couldn't help but imagine Brian sitting inside just waiting to laugh at them all for truly expecting him to cough out that much cash on the drop of a hat.

Molly opened the car door and got out and Jake glanced in the rearview mirror at Emma's face and smiled gently. "C'mon Ems," he said quietly, "It's gonna be okay." Emma nodded and climbed out, too, and Jake followed suit. They all closed the car doors and started heading for the front door. Every step she took felt like she was trudging through quicksand.

The front door opened and there was Brian, silhouetted by the light from the foyer inside. Emma felt sick. She'd seen her dad standing in that same place so many times over the years, usually staring out as Emma and Brian bid each other good night... She wished she had a crow bar inside her head to separate the current situation from the past that she'd seen lived out at this house. It would've made the night so much easier if they'd been anywhere else, anywhere that there wasn't memories lurking on every fiber.

"Hey ya'll, welcome," Brian called as they neared the porch.

"How ya doin, Brian?" Jake called in response, speeding up and taking the steps two at a time. They bumped fists like guys do and Jake waved to Molly and Emma, "Here are the two lovely ladies."

Brian smiled, "Good evening," he said. He held out his hand to shake Molly's hand, then Emma's. His palm was clammy, Emma noticed, and she knew from the past that meant he was nervous, and she felt a little more at ease knowing that he, too, was nervous. He smiled and his eyes moved between the three of them, "Well gosh darn it's half the class of '93 here on my door step, ain't it?"

Jake laughed, "The better half, at least."

Brian laughed and ushered them in the doors to the dining room. "I apologize if the food's a bit whacky," he said, "I cooked myself and other than things from a can or a box I have never quite mastered the whole meal preparation thing, you know?" he smiled.

"I'm sure you've done just fine. Do you need any help?" Molly asked.

"I grilled some steaks," Brian said, "And there's macaroni salad in the kitchen. I suppose if ya'll wanted to set the table..." Brian's cheeks pinkened sheepishly. "I was about to do that before but then I remembered I had to flip the steaks and all of ya'll pulled up and..."

Emma smiled at the color on his face, the way it spread across his nose and cheek bones like it always had, and she looked down at the table top to suppress the grin. She clutched the back of the chair she was standing behind.

"Our pleasure, anything to help out," Molly answered. "C'mon Em."

"Kitchen's right through that door," Brian said, pointing.

Molly nodded toward Emma, "I think she knows where it is."

"Oh. Right. Right." Brian's face deepened in color even further.

"I'll go help Bri with the steaks," Jake called, and nodded toward the back deck, and the two boys went out the back door while Emma and Molly wound their way through the house to the kitchen.

As they walked, Emma stared around at how Brian had set his things in the house. It was amazing how different it looked witth Brian's things in it. But he'd done a fair job of keeping many things the same, for instance he'd put his stereo in a built in book shelf that her father had built in the same place that her mother had put an old record player, and he'd divided his books into shelves arranged by height and color so that they formed a pattern somewhat similar to the one that her father had done. The kitchen, too, had similar things like that; for instance plates, cups, forks and knives were all easy to find because he'd put them in exactly the places her family had kept them so many years ago. Emma stood in front of the silverware drawer, staring down at the plastic white divider he'd put in and twirling a spoon around in her fingertips.

"Is it weird?" Molly asked, "Being here?"

"It makes me miss them more," Emma answered.

Molly nodded and opened the fridge, taking out steak sauce and the promised macaroni salad. She sniffed the salad, "He so used a Suddenly Salad kit."

Emma smiled, "He's a boy, what did you expect?"

Molly laughed, but it was a short-lived sort of laughter, and then her face turned serious. She rested a hand on Emma's shoulder. "It's too bad you couldn't keep this place."

"Yeah." She smiled sadly, "I was just happy I got enough to pay for their hospital bills and the funerals." Emma bit her lip and pulled out the rest of the silverware that they needed.

Molly ran her hand down Emma's back in a soothing sort of way, then collected what she'd gotten out for plates and things and headed back to the dining room. Emma stood in the kitchen, holding her bouquet of silverware, taking deep, shaky breaths. She glanced at the fridge and saw papers magneted to it. She moved to look at them. Mostly they were notices from the school, homework with circled A's and drawings that Baylee had done. But in the top corner of the freezer door there was a magnetic picture frame - that blue pattern from the fancy china with the people and quaint little houses around the edge - and a photograph of Brian and Leighanne.

Emma stared into the brilliantly blue eyes of Leighanne in the photograph, studied the curve of her smile and the long, straight blonde hair that hung to her shoulders. She was wearing a dress that, though Emma didn't know this, was one of her own Wylee designs, and clutching Brian, who was wearing stage clothes, complete with a fedora that was pulled low over his forehead. They looked like a beautiful couple, they looked like they belonged together.

Emma imagined what that photograph might've looked like had it been her in it instead of Leighanne. Would that dress have hung off her as perfectly if she'd married Brian? Certainly he'd never have been wearing those stage clothes. He'd have become a local grocer or something else that was typical, something ordinary. He never would've become what he'd become.

She backed away from the fridge, feeling her skin growing cold and her throat closing up and quickly carried the silverware back to the dining room. Molly had already spread out the plates and napkins and was spooning large amounts of macaroni salad onto the plates. Emma quickly put silverware on the napkins and turned to rush back to collect glasses from the cupboards, not wanting Molly to see her expression.

Despite their dreams and the long periods of heartbreak that she'd suffered because of the way they'd shattered, Emma suddenly realized that it never would've been fair to Brian to keep him here in Kentucky.

*****
Brian had pulled a couple beers out of the cooler he and Nick had left on the porch the night before. They weren't ice-cold like they should be, but they were cool enough from floating in all the melted ice all day. He and Jake each had one in their hands as they stood beside the barbeque pit in the backyard.

Jake was rolling the cap over his knuckles in a way that he'd spent years perfecting the practice of in bars. "So, what's it like, being famous and all that?" Jake asked, "Anything like you used to imagine back in high school?"

"Sometimes it's great," Brian said, shrugging, "Other times it's a bitch to put it plainly."

Jake laughed. "The women must be great, though, right? You could get any girl you want."

Brian took a sip of beer.

"So how old is your son?"

"He'll be nine in November," Brian answered.

Jake nodded.

"You got any kids, man?" Brian asked.

"Nawh," Jake answered. He swirled the beer bottle around. "We've tried a few times but, I dunno. It doesn't quite work. We'd go get some help you know but we're kind of dried out after helping Em and all."

Brian nodded. He took another sip of beer, then asked the question that had been eating at him for some time now. "What's wrong with Emma anyways?"

"The Big C," Jake answered, "Cancer."

Brian put the beer down and busied himself looking at the steaks. "Where's her mom and pop?" he asked quietly.

"Dead in a car crash back in '95," Jake replied. "Her father spent two months in the ICU hooked up to all these machines and such before they had to pull the plug finally. Her momma died on impact..." Jake looked toward the glow of the windows in the house and took a sip of beer. "That's why she sold the house."

Brian bit his lip. He'd been so close to Cindy and Jack Harris that it was like hearing about the death of his own parents years later and another wave of guilt washed over him as he realized what they must have thought of him. "That's sad," he croaked the words out at last.

Jake looked at Brian for a long moment, and, seeming to have read his mind, said, "She never told'em ya'll had plans to get married. In fact, she even told'em you'd said goodbye to her before you left." Somehow this made Brian hurt worse than if they'd thought him to be a monster. He closed his eyes, trying to wrap his mind around how much things had changed, but unable to really comprehend it all. Jake sighed. "She really loved you, she protected you from what people would say."

Brian felt his throat start to close up. "She's a good person," he muttered.

Jake nodded, "Yeah, she truly is."

"She ever get married?" Brian asked.

Jake looked for a long moment at Brian before he answered, "Unless you count that sheet of paper ya'll wrote up that night -- No." Jake paused to let the words sink in, "It's too bad," he added after a long moment, "She would've made a helluva wife."

Chapter Sixteen

The table was quiet aside from the clinking of silverware on plate and the occasional glass hitting the table just right. Brian watched Emma as she pushed her food around on her plate, one hand absently holding the edge of her fisherman's cap. Her lips were pursed, her eyes solidly concentrated on her plate, never wandering up to meet his. He chewed his food, only half hearing what little smattering of conversation Molly was trying to hold up - basically rambling to herself for everyone else to hear. He took a swallow of ice water.

Finally, Brian cleared his throat. "Look it's obvious we're all skirting around the elephant in the room here," he said. He pushed his chair back to a more comfortable distance from the table and folded his hands over the arm rests. He took a deep breath. "Did you bring copies of the medical bills with you tonight? Did you total them up?"

Molly hesitated. "Yes," she said finally.

Emma glanced at Molly. They'd discussed whether they should do that or not and Emma had insisted that Molly not prepare anything. Emma didn't want to look assuming. Molly, however, had done it anyways. Emma gave Molly The Look and Molly shrugged as she pulled a plastic file from her oversized bag and passed it to Jake, who handed it to Brian.

Brian opened the file and glanced inside. He looked up. "Okay, so here's what I want to do," he said, and he tossed the file onto a chair behind him. He looked from Molly to Emma, unsure which of them was the 'spokesperson'. He finally decided on Emma. He stared at the side of her face, even though she kept her eyes adverted from his, even though she stared down at her plate the whole time he spoke, "When you get a bill, I want you to send it here and I'll take care of it directly with the medical provider."

Molly's eyes welled up, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Brian answered, "No cash from my hand to yours, only to the medical provider. Does that sound fair?"

Emma swallowed and folded her hands on her lap. She felt sick to her stomach. She'd never been able to accept things gracefully from people - even birthday gifts and Christmas presents were awkwardly received with Emma. She couldn't bear to look up at Brian, even as her mind coached her how incredibly rude she was being not to be jumping up and down thanking him. She just couldn't do it. She felt petrified and sick and obligated - though what to, she didn't know.

"Thank you," Molly's words were deep, reverent.

Emma stood up quickly and let herself out the back doors of the house into the yard and the night air.

Brian, Molly and Jake all watched her go. Molly turned red, "I'm sorry," she said to Brian. She started dabbing her mouth, "I'll go get her," she declared. But just as she started to stand to go, Brian shook his head.

"No you finish eating," he said, "I'll go." He tossed his napkin down and headed for the doors as well.

Molly looked at Jake, a nervous expression in her eyes. Jake reached over and clasped Molly's hand in his own and gave it a little squeeze.

*****
Emma was standing on the clear opposite side of the land behind the Harris house, her hands wrapped around herself, her head hung and crystal tears slipping down her cheeks. Brian walked up behind her and hovered a few feet away. She could feel him there, knew it was him by the tone of his breathing, though the pace was different than she remembered it. After a long moment, she said, "You breathe differently now."

"More shallow," he agreed. "I had heart surgery in 1998," Brian explained, "And I just never really breathed as deeply as I once did." He stuck his hands into his pockets. "I can't believe you noticed."

"I used to love listening to you breathe," Emma said quietly. "All those times we watched movies or went star gazing... I just sat and listened to your breath. It was so relaxing and comforting." She dropped her arms, "It was one of the things I always imagined when I pictured us married," she said, "I pictured laying in bed on Sunday morning before church and listening to your breathing."

Brian swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "For leaving."

"You followed your dream," Emma answered. "Don't apologize for following your dream. I'm glad you got your dream."

Brian inched closer. "Did you get your dream?"

Emma turned around and smiled sadly, "How could I? My dream was our plan."

Brian felt his heart crack. He stepped close enough to wrap his arms around her, and he stared down at her eyes, "You deserved better," he whispered.

Emma shook her head.

Brian reached for the edge of the fishing cap, but her hands flew up to hold it in place. "Don't," she whispered.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm bald," she whispered, "Other than this." Her finger tips moved the strands that hung in her face.

"I don't care." Brian reached for the hat and pulled it off. Her scalp was pale and covered with the finest downy peach fuzz of hair he'd ever seen. Only a couple of strands remained, the ones that hung out from underneath the hat. If he'd been forced to make a comparison, he would've mentioned Gollum from the Lord of the Rings, but he felt cruel even thinking the words. Emma's eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. He dropped the cap onto the ground beside them and stared down at her. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "Don't cry."

Emma pulled away from him, picked up the hat and pulled it back onto her head before turning away. She wrapped her arms back around herself and lowered to a squat on the grass. She rocked herself in a soft sort of way. "I'm sorry Molly brought this all to you," she said. She reached down and grabbed a handful of grass from the ground. Emma glanced at him. She shook her head, "You're too late."

"I'm not," he answered, lowering next to her, "You're here, aren't you?"

Emma laughed and looked down at the ground. "I already gave up, Brian," she whispered. "I'm not scared or nothing, you know? I just wish it wasn't so hard to let everyone down. Molly, I mean. By dying."

"You can't give up," Brian replied, "Not as long as there are people that love you. Not until those people tell you that you're allowed to give up."

Emma dropped the grass. "You aren't allowed to talk about people who love me, Brian."

"I meant Molly," Brian answered, "And Jake."

Emma took a deep, shaking breath. "Did you even try to call me?"

"What?"

"When you left to go to Florida with Kevin," Emma said, "Did you even try to call me to tell me? Did you even think about everything we'd planned and dreamt of? Did you miss me?"

Brian picked up some of the grass she'd thrown down and started working on tearing it apart. He watched his progress. "Yes," he said quietly. "I missed you." He looked up at her. "The first night I spent in Kev's apartment in Orlando, I laid there on the bed staring up at the ceiling wondering about you."

"Only the first night? How heart broken you must've been," Emma's words came out sharp and sarcastic. She stood up. "Forget it, Brian."

"Em," he reached up for her hand and caught it before she could get too far. "That wasn't the only time, Emma," he said. "It's just -- I can still feel the way your name seared my heart that night every time I thought it."

"So why didn't you call?" she questioned, "Why didn't you give me a chance to join you, to go with you? I mean we were going to go to Tennessee and get married and get an apartment and work for a living. Why couldn't we have done that all in Florida? Why did going to Florida end our dreams?"

"I was scared, Em," Brian replied.

"Scared to marry me?"

"Scared of life," Brian answered, "I was scared of everything unknown."

"So you threw away the only constant?" Emma asked.

Brian's eyes burned with the threat of tears. "I don't know why I did what I did. There's no excuses. If I could take it back... if I could fix it... Emma, you need to believe me that I would. But so much has happened."

Emma sighed. "Brian, I'm sorry. You must feel so caught up in the middle here. Molly had no right coming to you, no right to tell you that I was sick. If she'd just left you alone, you never would've had to know..."

"I would've wondered," Brian said.

Emma shook her head, "I don't believe that, Brian. You don't need to help me, Brian," she said. And with that sentence hanging in the air, she headed back to the dining room.

Chapter Seventeen

Nick stepped onto the deck to find Brian staring out across the lawn in a comatose sort of way, a blank expression on his face. The plastic file sat on his lap and a bottle of beer in his hand, his jaw set in a determined, worried kind of way. Nick lowered himself into the chair beside Brian with a groan and yawned as he stretched his shoulders and legs. He reached over and took the bottle of beer from Brian and sipped it, holding it in his own hands, swishing the liquid around as he moved so he was on the edge of the seat, looking down at his own feet and the bottle between his knees as he moved it.

After a moment, he glanced at Brian. "So," he said, "How did it go?" Brian held out the file as a response, without actually saying anything. "What's this?" Nick asked, putting the beer down and reaching for the file.

Brian took the beer back, "Emma's medical bills." He tilted his head back and drank the last of the bottle as Nick opened the file.

"I thought you said you were gonna think about it before you agreed to do this?" Nick asked in an accusing tone. He frowned as he pulled the papers out and his eyes scanned very large digits and foreign words like chemotherapy, radiation, aspiration, and others. His frown deepened.

Brian got up and opened the cooler, taking out another two bottles of beer and handing one to Nick. "She said she doesn't want me to help her," he said.

Nick took the bottle and dropped the file to the ground between his feet as he opened the wet bottle's cap on the edge of the chair's arm. "What do you mean, she doesn't want you to help her?" He switched bottles with Brian, since Brian wasn't very good at opening the bottles that way, and opened the second one before taking a pull off the bottle.

Brian sighed, "She said she's already given up."

"Given up?" Nick's eyes turned to concern as he stared up at Brian.

"Yeah." Brian sat down and started peeling the label off the bottle. "She said she's not afraid to die."

Nick chewed the inside of his mouth, his eyes downcast. "So... what're you gonna do?"

Brian's jaw flexed with determination, "I can't just sleep through it while she dies," he answered. He closed his eyes - a mere blink, really - and like a nightmare coming back to him, he could hear the phone ringing in the dark the night Leighanne died, hear the tinny tone of the nurse informing him that there'd been an accident. He could smell the ER as he rushed through the doors, hear the footsteps in the corridor as the doctor led him to the ICU, hear the beeps and smell the sterile environment of the unit, see her pale skin, feel her icy hand... "I can't just let her die," he said as his throat throbbed with emotion.

Nick leaned back in the chair, "Fair enough," he said.

*****
Lauren was looking through a cookbook on the kitchen table when Nick came inside a couple hours later with four empty beer bottles tucked under his arm. He chucked them into the recycling bin and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Turning around, he realized Lauren was watching him, eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked slowly, hesitantly. Lauren closed the magazine's cover, crossed and recrossed her legs the opposite direction, cleared her throat and was just about to speak when Nick interrupted, "Oh God, this is something I don't wanna hear, isn't it?"

"I just think Brian's drinking too much," Lauren said. "And you, too, actually." She reached to poke his stomach but Nick ducked to one side.

"Bri's goin' though a hard time," he answered.

"Exactly," Lauren stressed the word, "He's going though stuff and instead of dealing with the stuff he's going through, instead of working through it and getting over it and healing and working through the grieving process, he's covering it up with alcohol with you on the back deck."

Nick blinked several times before he could wrap his mind around what Lauren was saying - he was, after all, ever so slightly buzzed at the moment - and scrunched up his nose. "It's just a normal part of bein' hurt, though," he argued, "I mean it's what us guys do. You girls, you do your own thing and we do ours."

Lauren shook her head and turned back to the magazine, "Whatever you say, Nick." But he could tell she wasn't gonna let it end that easily.

Nick hesitated, unsure if he wanted to persue the topic now and get it over with, or if he wanted to let her leave it the way it was and deal with it another night. He mentally weighed his options, then, deciding he had bigger and more pressing topics to deal with at the moment, he let it slide and threw himself into a chair, scooting it closer to her until he was practically sitting on her lap.

She never even looked up from the magazine, "Yes?"

"This Emma chick," Nick said, "She told Brian not to help her."

Lauren flipped a page in the magazine. "I thought that's what you wanted? For him not to help?"

Nick shrugged, "I dunno what I want," he answered. He leaned back so he wasn't quite in-her-face and rubbed his chin. "I don't want Brian to get used or hurt, that's what. But he seemed really crushed about it."

Lauren looked up at him slowly. "And?"

"And... I dunno," Nick said. "I think he likes her."

Lauren closed the magazine again and reached over, taking Nick's hands into her own. He wiggled in the chair to be closer to her. She stared into his eyes. "Nick, Brian's gotta do this on his own. I know you want to help him heal, I know you think drinking beer with him and getting involved in stuff like this thing with Emma and trying to psychoanalyze him and stuff is gonna help, but I'm telling you -" she took a deep breath, "He has to do this on his own."

"Matchmaking wouldn't hurt, though, right?"

Lauren's voice dipped into a warning tone, "Niii-iiick. No. Do not try to match-make Brian right now. Let him be."

Nick pouted. Lauren dropped his hands and stood up. He grabbed her hands, and looked up with her with sad-puppy-dog eyes.

"C'mon, you poor abused pup," Lauren said, pulling her hands back.

"I am a poor abused pup," he whimpered, "No cookies, no biscuits, no bones..."

Lauren giggled as he caught her into a crushing hug. "On the contrary, Mr. Carter," she said, "I think you do have a bone."

Nick grinned. "Race you upstairs."

Chapter Eighteen

Sarah was twenty-two and she'd just started in the position of secretary at the hospital billing department. She was still in the process of decorating her cubicle. It was a small one, granted, but she wanted it just right. She'd put a picture of her husband and newborn baby in a frame in one corner, and one of those desktop-sized calendar pads, which she had color coded system for making appointments on. She had a vase with a sunflower in it - a fake sunflower, but it looked real, just less messy and no heartbreak when it died. Plus, it would be there in the dead of winter, too.

The point is, though, that in her entire life Sarah had never seen a stack of money as big as what was sitting on the other side of her desk. She stared at it, speechless, dumbfounded.

"This account, right here." Brian held out Emma's medical bill, pointing at the billing account number. "All of it."

Sarah reached for her phone. "I have to have my superviser count the money..." she murmured, "He has to approve all cash transactions over $100."

Brian glanced at the stack. It was made of hundred dollar bills. He looked back up at Sarah, "Well, it's a bit over that."

*****
Molly was sitting on the couch painting her toenails bright green, her knee hugged to her chest. Emma sat beside her on the cushions. The TV crackled with audience laughter on the background of The Wonder Years as Kevin Arnold got into some misunderstanding with Winnie, as always.

Suddenly, the phone rang, piercing through the mundane soundtrack of the room. Molly glanced up. "Em, can you grab that? I can't move..." she waved her hands at her feet.

Emma sighed and launched herself over the arm of the sofa and grabbed the phone from its cradle. She clicked answer, then held it out to Molly, who took it eagerly. "Hellloooo?" Molly sang into the mouth piece. She paused. "Sure, hold on just a second." She lowered the phone from her face.

"What? Need me to go get Jake?"

Molly held the phone out, "Actually, it's for you. It's... your doctor."

Emma stared at the phone for a long moment, then hesitantly reached for it. She put it to her ear. "Hello?" Molly stared at her, trying to strain her ears to hear what was being said as Emma's facial expression changed from concern to deeper concern. "Thank you for letting me know," she said quietly after a long pause. She took a deep breath, "Yes sir, it's... excellent."

The moment Emma had hung up, Molly asked, "What happened?"

Emma looked up at Molly. "My bill was paid in full this morning," she whispered.

Molly's eyes widened.

Emma shook her head, "I - I told him not to do it..."

"Well," Molly said, "I guess he did it anyway."

*****
Baylee and Nick were playing Boggle - which Baylee was winning by a mile - while Brian worked on balancing his checkbook and Lauren paced the kitchen talking to her mother on the phone when the door bell rang. Baylee leaped up off the floor, "I'll get it!" he screamed, and bolted for the door.

Nick quickly reached across the Boggle game and grabbed Baylee's list of words and read them. Brian looked up from his checkbook and raised his eyebrow. "Really, Nick?" he asked.

Nick's cheeks turned red.

A moment passed before Baylee returned to the room and sat down on the floor. He picked up his notepad, not noticing that Nick had peeked at it, and grabbed his pencil. "Okay, restart time."

"Who was at the door, Bay?" Brian asked as Nick reached to upright the little hour glass.

Baylee scowled, "Nobody." Nick looked at Baylee, then glanced at Brian with a raised eyebrow. Brian met his eyes. The door bell rang again. "Ignore it!" Baylee shouted as Brian stood up. "Daddy, just ignore it please!"

But Brian ignored Baylee and stepped into the foyer, pulled the door open and found Emma standing on the welcome mat. She had tears in her eyes. "I just... I just wanted to thank you," she whispered. She turned and started to run from the door, but Brian took the width of the porch and the stoop in a couple quick strides and grabbed hold of her elbow.

"Don't give up," he whispered.

Emma stood frozen, back-to him. She took a deep shaky breath. "I don't know how not to."

"I'll do everything I can," Brian said, "Anything I can. Anything at all."

Emma turned around and their eyes locked and Brian felt something deep inside himself stir. He bit his lip staring down into her eyes as she stared up at his. After a long moment, she whispered, "Come out to dinner with me... So I can thank you."

Brian nodded numbly.

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure."

Emma smiled sadly. "Perfect," she whispered.

*****
"Who was at the door?" Lauren called when Brian re-entered the house. She was leaning around the door frame fo the kitchen. Baylee was scowling up at Brian from the carpet. Nick craned his neck trying to see a new set of words he'd just written on his memo pad.

"Emma," Brian replied.

Nick looked up. "Emma?"

Brian nodded.

"What'd she want?" Nick questioned.

"To thank me for paying her medical," Brian replied. "To ask me to go to dinner so she could thank me."

"Nice," Nick commented, grinning cheesily.

"Am I the ONLY ONE that remembers my MOM?" Baylee yelled, as he suddenly threw down his paper and stormed out of the room. Moments later, his bedroom door slammed shut.

"Well shit, he's not very happy for you," Nick commented.

Chapter Nineteen

Nick knocked on the bathroom door. "Dude I'm sure you look great, c'mon out so I can take a leak!" He banged on the door with his fist.

"I'll be out in a sec!" Brian yelled back, his voice faught with nerves. Nick sighed and leaned against the wall across from the bathroom door. After a five minute interval - checked and rechecked every 30 seconds by Nick - the door opened and Brian stepped out.

Nick choked as a toxic amount of aftershave came out like a calvary. He waved his hand in front of his face, and looked Brian over head to foot. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, "What're you doing? You look like fucking Prom Night Ken."

Brian looked down at his black-tie attire. "Too much?"

"Dawg, you look like a penguin," he said.

Brian sighed, "I don't know how to dress," he admitted.

Nick shook his head, "Sure as hell not like that."

Brian reached to undo his tie and, frustrated, ripped it off and threw it into the bathroom sink. He sighed. "Nick, I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know. I feel conflicted. I feel guilty because this is like a date, isn't it? Isn't it like a date? But at the same time it's not. It's not," he insisted as Nick raised an eyebrow.

"So what if it is?" Nick questioned.

"My wife just died," Brian answered.

"Like six months ago," Nick replied.

Brian fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. "It's not a date," he whispered. "I don't know how to dress for it."

"C'mon," Nick grabbed Brian's hand, "I'll help you."

"I dunno Nick," Brian said, hesitantly, looking at Nick's bright red gym shorts, which he'd paired with a button down flannel shirt in earth tones. He had on sandals.

"Trust me," Nick said.

Brian followed Nick into his bedroom and Nick pulled open Brian's closet and started rummaging through it. Brian glanced at the clock, knowing he had to leave in a half an hour. Within fifteen minutes, Nick had an assortment of clothes separated into outfit choices. They all included t-shirts and jeans. One was even a wifebeater and jeans. "Trust me," Nick repeated, "You'll look great. All the fans love you in this," he tossed a grey wifebeater to Brian.

"I think this says casual date," Brian said, holding it up and staring at it, "Or workout video." He threw the wifebeater onto the bed and stared at the other outfit options Nick had assembled.

Lauren walked past the open bedroom door, pushing the vacuum cleaner. Seeing Nick proudly holding aloft the outfits, she turned the vacuum off and poked into the room. "What's this?" she asked, waving a hand at the outfits.

"Brian's options for his non-date," Nick replied.

Brian looked at Lauren with pleading eyes.

Lauren rolled her eyes, "Please. You," she pointed at Nick, "Go finish vacuuming. You're like the worst person ever to ask about this." She turned to Brian, "He showed up for one of our dates once in swim trunks and a t-shirt that said Grabbabootie & Pinch on it. Do not trust him."

"It's not a date," Brian stammered.

Nick shook a finger at Lauren, "You liked that shirt, thank you."

"Not when we're going out into public," Lauren answered, "It would've been good for the stage."

"I wore it on stage!"

"You also wore it to The Ivy," Lauren pointed out.

Nick frowned, "So?"

Lauren waved her hand at him in a shooing manner. "Go finish the vacuuming, you're clueless." Nick wandered out the door of the room, grumbling to himself about picky women and a moment later the hum of the cleaner filled the air again. Lauren turned to Brian's closet. "Here," she said, quickly pulling out a red and blue plaid button-up shirt and a pair of khakis. She pulled open one of his dresser drawers, came up with a fresh undershirt. "Wear this. Keep the shirt unbuttoned part of the way. Wear your sneakers."

"Thanks Lauren," Brian said, taking the clothes from her.

"No problem." Lauren smiled and started for the door. She paused in the door frame. "Never let Nick dress you," she advised. "Ever."

*****
Emma came down the stairs wearing a light green sundress with a wide belt around her thin waist. Her fishing cap still on her head, she had applied some make up around her eyes and was carrying a small brown leather purse with flipflops. She stood in the kitchen door way. Molly looked up from the food she was preparing and smiled, a flour smudge on her cheek bone. "You look good, Em," she said, smiling.

"Thanks," Emma answered, blushing.

Molly winked, "Soooo," she said, turning back to the food, "Are you sure this isn't a date-date?"

"Positive," Emma answered.

"Did you say it was a date?"

"No."

Molly poured some oil into the bowl she was working with. "Did you say it wasn't a date?"

Emma hesitated, "No."

Molly smirked.

"It's just to thank him," Emma assured her. "Really."

"Uh huh."

"I wouldn't want to be with Brian now after... everything."

"Uh huh."

"Besides," Emma continued, "It wouldn't be fair to him. He already lost his wife, he doesn't need to--"

"You're going to get better," Molly interrupted her.

Emma sighed. "He just doesn't need that in his life right now."

Molly wiped her hands on the apron she'd tied around her waist. "Don't sell yourself short, okay? Don't assume because you're sick that nobody loves you. Don't short chance Brian because of the past."

"I won't, but it's not a date."

The sound of a car door slamming interrupted them and they both quickly turned to look out the window at the walkway to the front door. Brian was just coming around the corner of a large bush that blocked the view of the driveway when Emma's eyes locked on him. Molly looked at Emma, "He's dressed nice. You're dressed nice."

"So?"

"Honey, it's so a date."

Chapter Twenty

Emma opened the front door of Jake and Molly's before Brian could knock. His eyes traveled up and down her and he was thankful Nick and Lauren had intercepted him before he left in his Prom Night Ken attire. He smiled, "You look gorgeous," he said. The reverence in his voice almost made Emma believe him.

Jake and Molly appeared behind Emma suddenly. Molly standing on her tip-toes to look over Emma's shoulder, the flour smudge still on her cheek bone. "Hi Brian," she called.

"Hey," Brian answered.

Jake folded his arms over his chest, "Now don't forget curfew," he said in a fake-deep-dad-voice. "I plan to be sitting on my front porch with my rifle and if she's even a minute late, so help me God, Littrell..." They all laughed at the tone, which was uncannily like Mr. Harris' had been...

The first time that Brian had ever taken Emma on a date, back in 1983, when he'd picked her up at the house, Mr. Harris had made a point of sitting on the rocker on the front porch, cleaning the barrell of his gun while Brian waited on the steps for Emma to come out. "Have a whole collection of these," Mr. Harris had muttered as he polished it, "And a whole shit load of ammo. And a shovel. Catch my flow?"

Emma waved good-bye to Jake and Molly and followed Brian down the walkway to the truck. She smiled as they walked, "I don't know where you want to go," she stammered, "But it's my treat wherever." She clung to the strap of her purse.

Brian laughed, "Why thank'ya m'lady." He reached for the door of the truck and pulled it open and gave her a hand up into the truck. "Watch yer digits," he drawled as he closed the door before climbing in behind the driver's side. He looked at Emma. "I don't know where to go, to be honest, though."

Emma shrugged, "You have to pick, I can't pick."

Brian backed out of the driveway, "Well," he said, "Let's head that way and we'll see what sounds good when we get there, how's that?"

"Whatever rocks your boat," Emma said.

As the truck rolled along the streets towards the restaurants, Emma glanced around the inside of the truck, at the air freshener hanging off the rear view mirror and the phone charger stuck in the cigarette lighter. The truck was so old it had a built in tape-deck, which was clicking as it played whatever was in there. "Let's see what Brian Littrell listens to, shall we?" Emma reached for the volume dial and the truck filled with the sounds of Tim McGraw. She smiled, "I always loved Tim."

Brian laughed, "He's a good guy."

"Yeah," Emma smiled. She looked at Brian. "You didn't have to help you know."

Brian's eyes stayed on the road. "I know," he answered.

"So why did you then?" Emma asked.

"I don't know," Brian answered.

"You must know," Emma pressed.

Brian shrugged, "I'm not sure." He paused. "Can I take a rain check on that answer?"

"As long as I get an answer one day," Emma said.

Brian nodded, "You will."

When they arrived to the restaurant side of town, Brian drove slower and they looked at all the different options they had, but none of them were terribly appealing. Brian pulled over after their third drive by the whole lot of them. He rubbed his chin. "Hey, remember Maryfield Farms?" he asked, "The place with the ice cream and the cows? How about sundaes for dinner?"

Emma laughed, "Are they even still open? God, we used to go there when I was a kid - me, my mom and my dad." She smiled.

"Harold gave me a black eye there once," Brian laughed, "Because I stole the cherry off his sundae." Emma laughed heartily. "Plus," Brian said quietly, "I took you there a few times." He paused. "The goats probably miss you."

Emma smiled sadly, "Oh well, we don't want the goats to miss me."

"They're probably new goats anyways," Brian pointed out. "I don't think goats live that long."

Emma laughed, "Now that's depressing."

Brian laughed, too. "Well I don't know that. Maybe goats outlive human beings, like those parrots people get."

"Maybe that's why they have beards," Emma laughed.

"So let's go see if Maryfield Farms is still open then," Brian suggested, pulling back into the flow of traffic.

Once they were back on the road, Emma watched the cassette deck count down the time lapse on the tape playing and hummed a couple times with the music. The silence was thick. After a pause she glanced up at Brian again. "What was it like?" she asked.

"What was what like?"

"Leaving Lexington," she answered, "Escaping."

Brian considered. "In a lot of ways, it was amazing. In a lot of ways, it was heaven. I had the time of my life, I'm not gonna lie. I followed my dreams, I got to see the world, meet Nick, meet Leighanne, have Baylee... But in other ways, this simple life here in Kentucky... in other ways this is what I missed. This is what I wanted more than anything. The simplicity."

"I'm glad."

Brian smiled, "What's your story, where did you go?"

Emma looked out the window as her eyes watered slightly. "I got back on my feet after you left..." she paused, "And then..." She looked at her lap. "I went through a - a um - a really hard time." Emma bit her lips, her fingers moving nervously around each other.

"A hard time?" Brian asked gently.

Emma nodded, "I had to move in with my folks for a bit because I was - was a little - well I was depressed."

Brian frowned, "Because of me?"

"Because I had an abortion," she whispered.

Brian felt his blood run cold. "You were..."

"Pregnant?" Emma asked, interrupting his hesitation. "Yeah."

Brian paused. "W- who's?"

Emma took a deep breath, "There was only you, Brian."

He reached for the blinker and pulled the truck over on the side of the road. It was a long, winding back road, overhung with trees, going out away from the city to the back country where Maryfield Farms was located. He put the truck in park and turned to look at her. "Why didn't you call me?"

Emma's eyes welled up, "I was scared, too."

Brian closed his eyes and a single tear crept down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Emma whispered, "I didn't really want to tell you, I dunno what made me tell you just now."

Brian shook his head, "I'm glad you did."

Emma had to admit that it had taken some of the hurt and pressure off her chest just to tell Brian. She took a deep breath, "I was only just getting over that when my parents died in 1995," she said. She ran her hands across her knees. "And I moved in with Molly and Jake until I got sick and then I went to a clinic in Virginia," she played with the edge of the belt. "It hasn't been very impressive," she whispered, "My life, I mean."

Brian's heart ached for her. She'd encountered one hardship after another, a chain sequence of events... a sequence that he'd kicked off. He wished he had something wise and comforting to say, but nothing came to mind at all. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be sorry," she answered. "It all happens for a reason, doesn't it?"

But it seemed the more Brian had a reason to say those words, the less he was able to believe them.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brian had never been so relieved to see goats before in his entire life.

They'd rode in silence so thick that he was pretty certain it was a blackhole in the universe, sucking in all the matter around them and leaving behind only thick, empty air. He wanted nothing more than to run home, lock himself away in his room, and simply never come out again, but not wanting to be rude, he drove onward through it, his knuckles white around the wheel. He pictured what Nick would say later when he told him - if he told him - about Emma having been pregnant before.

"Dude," he could almost hear Nick's voice echoing in his head, "You knocked up a chick?"

Nick in all his eloquent glory.

But as the truck broke through the trees and trundled up the sloping dirt road to Maryfield Farms, they discovered that not only had Maryfield stayed in business all these years, but they'd actually expanded and offered more than just ice cream, and goat petting now. The lot was jammed and the sound of fiddle and banjo music wafted over the grounds.

When Brian cut the engine, they sat in silence, the music humming in a muffled, far-off sort of way. Emma stared straight ahead, her mouth curled into a disgusted sort of look and Brian felt his fingers getting restless. He started clenching and unclenching a fist and took deep, warbly breaths. After a long moment, he said, "Are you okay?" he paused, then added, "Now, I mean?"

Emma nodded.

The awkward silence continued. Brian felt like he was drowning. He was about to open his mouth to ask if she was angry with him when she let out a squeal and the passanger door banged open and Emma jumped out of the truck. Brian's eyes swung to see what she'd seen and his eyes landed on what hers had and he laughed, grabbed her purse from the abandoned seat and climbed out to join her at the fence that separated the field from the parking area.

Emma had climbed up onto the lower wrung of the fence and was leaning over it, eagerly patting a large butterscotch colored goat, whose eyes were encircled with patches of great, and had one grey-furred leg. Brian stepped up behind her and raised an arm to guard block her as she reached for the goat. He watched the curve of her body, frail and suddenly seeming tiny to him. He couldn't explain it, but he had the sudden desire to grab her up and tuck her into his pocket for safe keeping, to protect her from the world he'd once abandoned her in.

Completely unaware of Brian's emotions, Emma felt the wirey fur of the goat slip beneath her fingertips and his boney frame pressed against her hands hard and dry feeling. Old feelings were crawling back up inside her, reawakened by having rehashed the past with Brian. They were new wounds for him, but old for her. She wondered what he was thinking, and she knew that she'd been right when she'd kept it from him and his parents. He would've come back, she could feel that much radiating off him, and he never would've had his career. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help but feel like that would've been wonderful. If he'd come back.

Brian helped her down off the fence a moment later, and his hands on her back, on her arm, which he used to steady her descent felt like fire. She imagined the connection between Harry and Voldemort's wands in the fourth Potter movie and imagined that touch was something of what it might've felt like for the wands. Only less evil, more heart racing.

They walked together in silence past the other parked cars to the large barn where the Maryfield Country Store was in full swing of celebration. Brian reached for the door and as it swung open the sounds of the music swelled out like an ocean wave and engulfed them. They stepped inside the store and the smell of sweet apples and cinnamon filled Emma's nostrils and she stopped a couple steps in, her eyes wide and marveling at the ceiling, where thousands of twinkle lights hung to illuminate the room. They sparkled like the stars in the darkest night sky. She smiled brightly.

Brian's voice broke the silence between them finally, "Beautiful," he said.

Emma looked at him. He, too, was staring up at the twinkle lights and she watched them twinkle in his eye's reflection for a moment as she studied the curve of his jaw and angle of his nose. "Yeah," she replied.

Brian looked down at her and smiled and motioned toward the ice cream counter and Emma moved numbly that direction. Something was freezing her up inside and she couldn't put her finger on the emotion. It wasn't sadness, she could tell that much. She was so used to feeling tragic that it was a bit of a surprise to be feeling something else, but it was, no mistaking, something.

They approached the counter and waited in line, Brian's eyes scanning the menu, choosing what he wanted to eat. When it was their turn, he ordered a medium sundae with butterscotch on chocolate ice cream with a cherry and nuts. Emma ordered a regular sundae and reached for her wallet to pay, but before she could, Brian had already forked over the money and taken the change. Emma stared at him, dumbfounded as the attendant turned to prepare their food.

"I was supposed to pay," she protested.

Brian shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

"But --"

"Em, shhh," Brian cut her off.

The fact of the matter was, Brian wanted to pay because in his old-fashioned views... that made this a date. And that scared the bejesus out of him that in the split second it'd taken him to grab his wallet out and pay, he'd wanted it to be a date. And now... well, now... after having made it a date, the guilty feelings were rushing in on him and he could feel his heart thrashing around, trying to make sense of everything.

Their sundaes were up and they each grabbed their cup of ice cream and a spoon and walked further into the barn, the music getting louder the further back they wandered. The band was set up on a stage-like apparatus in the back of the barn and in front of them was a group of dancing people who were two-stepping about like it was a sock hop out of the 1950s, or American Bandstand or something. Brian hovered by the edge of this, eating his ice cream, watching and smiling.

Emma stood beside him, eating hers, too. "Is this what it's like at a Backstreet Boys show?" she asked.

Brian laughed, "Uhhh," he shook his head, "Not at all."

Emma laughed, too. "It must be amazing," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"Was?"

A long pause followed Emma repeating that word as Brian concentrated fully on his ice cream. In the back of his mind, he imagined the expression on Nick's face as he'd begged Brian to come to Los Angeles and tape some new BSB stuff... and the way it'd fallen when Brian had said no.

"I can't sing anymore," Brian answered quietly. He stuffed a large, sticky scoop of ice cream into his mouth to avoid explaining further.

Emma felt aghast. She looked at him in shock. "What? Why?"

Brian swallowed. He took a deep breath. He fidgeted.

"Brian?" she reached out a hand and with fingers cold from touching the cup, she touched his arm.

"Because -" he felt a lump rise in his throat, "I miss my wife." His Kentucky accent was thicker than thick, and he stared downward at his feet.

The band reached the end of a song at that exact moment when he'd spoke and their sudden silence was punctured by the crowd of dancers clapping, whistling and shouting praises for the band. Brian turned and tossed his mostly-empty ice cream cup into the trash barrell, basketball style. He turned to her. She was looking at him, stunned like she'd just been slapped in the face and he felt even more guilty. He gnawed his lower lip. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You can't stop singing," Emma protested.

Brian couldn't reply.

The band started playing again, and life around them kept moving.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nick was out the door and to the driveway before Brian had even cut the ignition. When he opened the truck door, he hit Nick in the gut by accident, having not seen his descent on the truck. Nick, however, only stumbled back a couple feet, clutching his stomach, and was not deterred from his original mission, despite Brian's profuse apologies.

"What happened?" Nick demaned, yelping over Brian's voice.

Brian stopped apologizing and looked stunned a second, shook his head - trying to clear the weirdness of Nick out - and stammered, "Happened?"

"Yeah," Nick raised an eyebrow. "What went down?" He glanced at the truck, as though expecting to see evidence of the evening all over it.

Brian paused. "We... went to get ice cream... we talked..." he shrugged. "She pet the goat."

Nick looked simultaneously interested and disgusted. "The goat?"

"At the ice cream place."

Nick's face contorted. "At the ice cream place?" he asked, "Dude, weren't there like kids there?"

Brian stared at Nick for a long moment before it dawned on him who he was talking to. "The goats is an animal Nick, not a perverse innuendo."

Nick looked crestfallen. "Oh." Brian rolled his eyes and started to walk toward the house. Nick trotted after him, "So alls you did was eat ice cream and talk?" he asked. "You paid off her medical bills and you didn't even get laid?"

Brian stopped short and looked at Nick, "You're sick," he said.

Nick shook his head, "Dude, you paid off her medical bills, she owes you more then an ice cream cone. You aren't a boy scout."

"Actually," Brian hesitated, then changed his mind. "Nevermind."

"What? Actually what?" Nick demanded. Brian shook his head. Nick's mind rewound the last couple sentences they'd said and snapped two and two together. "You paid tonight, didn't you?"

"That's what gentlemen do!" Brian retorted.

"I let Lauren pay for dinner all the time!" Nick replied.

"Exactly like I said," Brian snapped back, "That's gentlemen do."

"No," Nick answered, "That's what dudes trying to get the girl do." He eyeballed Brian. "You still love her, don't you?"

"Shut the fuck up," Brian took the steps of the porch two at a time, practically leaping, and wrenched the door open. Nick's long legs enabled him to catch up quickly, though, and soon Brian felt his tall blonde friend breathing down his neck as he rounded the living room doorway and found Lauren sitting in a chair reading a book. She looked up as the two boys came in and Brian dropped onto the sofa. Nick stayed standing.

Lauren's eyebrow raised at Nick's expression of triumph and Brian's flared nostrils. Especially as Brian leaned his head back and groaned, clutching his forehead like he had a severe migraine. "Either of you want to tell me what went on?"

"Brian's in love with the girl he went on a date with tonight," Nick replied, his voice smug.

"It wasn't a date," Brian groaned.

"He paid," Nick supplemented.

Lauren looked at Nick. "We go on dates all the time and you don't pay --"

"That's what I said!" Nick cried.

"-- the guy paying doesn't neccessarily make it a date anymore," Lauren didn't even stop when Nick interrupted, "Maybe it did in the fifties, but not anymore."

"It wasn't a date," Brian said again.

"But he loves her," Nick said. "He said so."

"Actually I said to shut the fuck up was what I said," Brian pointed out.

Nick shook his head, "Same thing."

Lauren rolled her eyes at Nick, dog-eared her book, and dropped it onto the table beside her before kneeling on the couch beside Brian. She tilted her head to look at his eyes. "Ignore Nick," she said quietly, gently. "What's the matter?"

Brian took a deep, shaking breath. "I miss Leighanne," he whispered.

Nick threw himself into the chair Lauren had just vacated. Pleased it was still warm from her body heat, he nestled into it and sat on his hands, watching Lauren and Brian closely, feeling a bit helpless. He chewed his lip. He also felt a little guilty. He hadn't realized Bri was still feeling bad about Leighanne... if he had, he wouldn't have pushed the Emma thing so hard.

"I know you do sweetheart," Lauren said quietly. She put a hand on Brian's arm in a comforting sort of way. "It's going to be okay."

"She had an abortion," Brian choked the words out.

Lauren paused, unsure who Brian was talking about.

"Emma was pregnant. I got Emma pregnant before I left... and she never told me," he covered his eyes with his hands, "She didn't feel like she could because I was gone in Florida for the band and she didn't want me to - to abandon all that, and..." he felt his throat closing up, words becoming harder to get out without squeaking.

"Dude, you knocked up a chick?" Nick's voice piped in.

"Nickolas," Lauren snapped, turning to wave a hand at him as though she were smacking him away, like a fly.

"What!?" Nick asked, incredulous, "It's a legitimate question!"

"It's rude," Lauren scolded, turning back to Brian.

Nick stuck out his tongue as soon as Lauren's back was turned.

But in the exchange, Brian had started to laugh. It was exactly what he'd envisioned Nick would say when he told him. His head felt like it was swimming in some kind of crazy laughing gas and tears came to his eyes as he laughed so hard and silently that his stomach started to ache. He clutched his stomach.

From the outside, it looked like he was crying. Lauren was perplexed, "Oh my God, don't cry Brian, Nick's mouth is too big for his own good. It's okay..." She turned back to Nick, who was now sitting forward in his seat, concerned at the word cry and staring at Brian with wide eyes. "See what you did, you heartless wildebeast?" she demanded.

"What I did?" Nick sounded affronted but he knew it was his fault.

"Yes, you -- You and your big impossible mouth... running off like you were raised by wolves or something..."

"I might as well've been raised by wolves!" Nick snapped.

This was only making Brian laugh harder and he finally managed a strangled guffaw.

"Dude seriously don't cry," Nick said, standing up and coming over.

"You're -- you're ridiculous..." Brian wheezed the words and finally the outburst of laughter came and Lauren looked shocked.

She looked up at Nick. "You've finally done it," she said, "You've made him go crazy."

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Brian needs to get laid," Nick said into the dark an hour and a half later, as he and Lauren lay on their backs in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Nick rolled to his side, crunched the pillow up forcefully, and flopped back down, making Lauren's side of the bed jiggle. He stared at the side of her head.

"Sex isn't the answer to every man's issues," Lauren answered, "Just because it's a cure-all for you doesn't mean it is for him."

Nick shook his head, "Nawh, I know Brian. Brian needs sex. Brian needs wild, crazy, kinky sex." He rolled back onto his back, groaned and flipped over, punching the pillow. "Think Emma's got like chains and whips and shit?"

Lauren raised an eyebrow. "You're joking, right?"

Nick continied punching the pillow.

"Okay, look, Mike Tyson, lay the freakin hell down."

"I can't sleep."

"Well you're not going to sleep having a boxing championship with the damn pillow."

Nick flopped onto his stomach and pressed his face into the pillow. He sighed deeply. Lauren closed her eyes, figuring the conversation was over now that he was still. But it was only a brief pause. He turned his head to look at her. "Do you think he loves her?"

Lauren kept her eyes closed. "You never stop loving your first love," she replied.

Nick thought about that for a long moment. "I don't still love my first love," he said quietly. Lauren smirked. After a pause he asked, "Do you?"

"Mmhm," Lauren hummed.

Nick sat up. "You do?" he reached for the lamp on the bedside table. "What?"

Lauren kept her eyes closed.

Nick glowered. "Dude, seriously? You do?"

"I told you, nobody ever stops loving their first love."

"I did."

"Your first love was Cindy Crawford, it doesn't count when your six and your correspondence with the person is your mom."

"Nuh-uh," he muttered, even though it was totally true.

Lauren took a deep breath. "His name was Keith and he was a football player."

"A football player?" Nick demanded. He paused. "I sang the National Anthem for the Buccs."

Lauren smirked. "Singing for a crappy team doesn't compare to being QB one at the high school. Especially not when you're a color flying rally girl."

Nick stared at her. "Crappy?" he asked.

"You know they're crappy, I don't have to tell you that."

"That's it." Nick rolled over and faced the wall. "I ain't talkin' to you no more." He pulled the blanket up to his neck and curled his knees up into his chest.

"Good, maybe now I'll get some sleep," she teased him.

Nick stayed still for exactly thirty seconds. "What the fuck kinda name is Keith anyways?"

"Drop it, Nick," Lauren laughed.

"I can't," he whined. "Do you love Keith more than me?"

Lauren opened one eye, "Nick. Whose bed am I laying in? Yours or Keith's?"

"Technically the bed belongs to Brian."

"Nick."

"Okay okay."

Lauren closed her eye again. Nick flopped back down for like the one-millionth time. He reached over and turned off the lamp and they fell into silence. After a long lapse of time, Lauren heard Nick's voice hoarsely whisper, "Lauren?"

"What?" she whispered back.

Nick snuggled closer. "My egos bruised."

Lauren rolled and looked at Nick's shape in the dark, barely able to see his features. "You need a fix-all?" she asked quietly. Nick nodded and she laughed, kissing his chin softly.

*****
In the next room, Brian was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, a glass of Jack beside him on the dresser, and the high school yearbook open on his lap. He stared down at Emma Harris in the yellowing pages. Most Likely to be the Next Michaelangelo. He took a long swallow from his drink and pulled a face as the burning liquid slid down his throat.

When he closed his eyes, he could still remember every detail of that night in the back of the pick-up truck. He'd never really told her that it had been his first time, too. He could still hear her ragged breathing, see the rise and fall of her chest, the faces she made, the sounds, the feeling of her skin as the sweat built up...

Brian opened his eyes and shook the vision out.

He closed the yearbook and dropped it onto the floor, his eyes travelling across the room until he spotted the one photograph of Leighanne that he hadn't tucked away in a box in the attic. It was from the 10-year wedding anniversary party, in her dark blue gown. He felt a lump climb into his throat and take up residence. He could still feel Leighanne, too. He could feel her hand, safely tucked into his, and hear her tinkling laughter.

It occured to him that both of these women - the Emma he'd known and the Leighanne he'd married - were gone. Leighanne's life, her personality, now consisted of a granite stone with a simple epitaph. Emma... well, she was buried within herself. Neither of them were ever going to return.

Brian took another long swallow of Jack. Next door, he heard Nick shout something and he downed the rest of the glass.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emma was sitting in the clinic the next morning, her purse on her lap, staring out the window with wide eyes. Outside, it was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and she could see the streets below as cars drove along. She shifted her weight and a long, low sigh escaped her. A moment later, a nurse came in the room, wearing dark green scrubs. She smiled cautiously at Emma, as though she wasn't sure what to expect from the girl, and said, "Do you have transportation?"

Emma nodded. "My friend's coming to pick me up," she answered quietly.

The nurse rolled her blood pressure apparatus over to where Emma sat by the window and slid the cuff onto her arm. She puffed the air in and watched the monitor. Emma continued staring outside. "A litte high," the nurse commented, making a note in Emma's chart. She was quiet a moment as she looked it over. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm just...great," Emma whispered, "Just great."

"Do you want a psych consult? We can recommend you to one and --"

"No," Emma said, "There's no point in that."

The nurse finished her business and left the room. A few moments after she'd gone, the door creaked open and Molly came in, followed by Jake. Molly sat down in the chair across from Emma, while Jake hovered by the door, staring at his feet, his hands in his pockets. Molly touched Emma's knee. "Em," she whispered.

Emma looked up. "It's fine," she said, "Let's go home."

Molly took a deep breath, "Em, what's the matter?"

Emma laughed bitterly, "Nothing that we didn't already know," she answered.

Molly's throat constricted. "The treatment didn't help?"

Emma shook her head, "Nope."

Molly leaned back and tears filled her eyes. She looked at Jake, holding his gaze for a long moment. Jake took a couple steps closer. He laid a hand on the back of Emma's chair and sighed, "What're we gonna do with you?" he asked quietly.

"Bury me," Emma answered in a raw voice.

Molly choked.

Jake shook his head, "We're not going to bury you, don't be crazy."

Emma's voice was level. "According to the doctors you are," she answered.

"They're wrong," Molly snapped, an edge to her voice that made Jake jump. Emma had been half expecting an outburst from Molly, and didn't react at all at the pitch as Molly continued, "They're wrong, we need a second opinion." She was beginning to sound panicked, an almost desperate tone taking over her voice.

Emma stared down at her hands. "Molls - they aren't wrong, I can feel that much."

"Don't you dare, Emma," Molly said, standing up, her voice shaking, "Don't you dare say that like you've given up."

Emma didn't look up at Molly, but studied her fingernails.

"Don't you dare give up," Molly repeated. "Not after everything we've been through trying to help you. There's got to be something they can do."

"What? More treatment so Brian can pay off more bills? I didn't want him to pay what he's already paid," Emma argued.

"He said he wanted to help out," Molly replied, "Emma you have to at least try!"

"I did try, and it didn't work," Emma snapped.

"Just because it didn't work this time doesn't mean it won't next time," Molly argued.

"I don't want to make Brian pay for that, it's too much."

Molly shook her head, "This is bullshit."

Jake sighed, "Molls, c'mon, that's not gonna help."

"Well it is, it's bullshit," she looked at Emma. "Brian wants to pay for the treatment. He gives a damn about you. I give a damn about you. Why don't you give a damn about yourself?"

"I DO!" Emma yelled. She stood up and faced Molly. "I do give a damn about myself. I want to take care of myself, though. I have pride, I have dignity. I don't want Brian paying everything off for me left and right like some kind of bank."

"He's a friend," Molly argued.

"No he was a friend, he used to be someone I could depend on without feeling stupid. But he's not anymore. He left me, Molly. He left. He didn't want to be a part of me anymore."

"But he's back now," Molly argued.

"He didn't come back here for me," Emma argued back, "He came back to get away from a gravestone and a memory, not to come rushing in and play Robin Hood, okay? He's not here to save me."

"He can save you, though," Molly said, "And you're not letting him!"

"HE CAN'T SAVE ME!" Emma shouted, "Fucking hell Molly, I'm dying, my body is eating itself." She took off her hat and whipped it at her friend's chest. "I'm bloody bald, Molls, I'm not getting better."

Tears were flooding Molly's face. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Jake stepped closer and wrapped her tightly into him, her face pressing into his shoulder. He rubbed her back and sighed as she started to shake. Emma stared at him for a long moment and he finally mouthed, I'm sorry.

*****
Emma went to bed early that night. They'd sat through a tense dinner of spaghetti, and Molly had barely touched a bite, still bleary eyed from their argument at the hospital. Emma couldn't even look at her without feeling guilty. Guilty for dying. Jake had tried several times to start up light hearted conversation, but each one ended sourly or had not been responded to at all, and finally he gave up on the attempts.

Molly listened as Emma's footsteps disappeared up the stairs to the second floor. Molly set her jaw. She looked at Jake. "I refuse to accept this," she said quietly.

Jake folded his hands in a steeple formation over his empty dinner plate. "I know she's your best friend, Molls," he said quietly, "But... maybe it's time to let yourself accept the possibility..."

"No," Molly answered firmly. "No. I refuse." She stood up. "I refuse to accept it and I refuse to sit by and do nothing whatsoever about it." She grabbed her plate, kicked her chair into the table and went to the kitchen with a certain air of determination. Jake recognized that look on her face - it was exactly the same as the one she'd had when she'd approached him about a dance date the very first time they'd ever met. That face never led to an outcome of Molly not getting what she wanted.

Jake sighed.

In the kitchen, Molly put her dishes into the dish washer and grabbed Emma's purse off the counter. She held it for a long moment, her hands shaking. She looked at the kitchen doorway and didn't see Jake looming anywhere, so she reached for the zipper and opened the bag. Inside, Emma's things were all in a jumble. Molly fished around for a moment and came up a moment later with the cell phone.

Flipping the phone open, Molly felt more confident as she opened up Emma's contacts, typed in Brian's name and quickly wrote down the phone number.

Jake came in the room. He looked at the bag, at the cell phone and at Molly's expression of concentration. "Oh God," he said, "What are you doing?"

"Something I should've done seventeen years ago," Molly answered.

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Why is Uncle Nick dropping me off for school again?" Baylee asked for like the thirteenth time as he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his backpack on, his thumbs hooked behind the shoulder straps.

Brian was hurriedly pouring coffee into his thermos. "Because I need to meet up with someone --"

"Is it that girl?" Baylee interrupted.

"-- about business," Brian emphasized.

Baylee crossed his arms over his chest and glowered angrily. "Why can't you meet her after I go to school?"

"Because she's not available then," Brian said shortly. He grabbed the thermos and his keys off the counter.

"So don't meet her then," Baylee said simply. "You don't need a girlfriend," he added.

"She isn't my girlfriend."

"What is she then?"

"She has cancer Baylee, I'm helping her pay her bills."

Baylee rolled his eyes. "Mom would not like you going out with her."

"Your mother isn't here, is she?" Brian snapped.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them as the two Littrell boys faced off and the words Brian had spat sank to the floor. Baylee turned and stormed out of the room, almost running into Nick.

"Excuse you," Nick said as Baylee barrelled by. Nick was still in his sloppy pajama pants and a dirty t-shirt. He stard at Brian for a long moment. "Shit," he said, connecting Brian's nice clothes with the day, "I'm driving Baylee in, huh?" Nick looked down at the sweatpants that were so dirty they probably crawled out of the laundry hamper and onto his body on their own accord. "I don't gotta go in, do I?"

Brian nodded, "Yeah, you have to make sure he goes to class."

"His teacher hot?" Nick asked.

"Go change," Brian answered.

Nick nodded, "Okay." He turned back around and left the kitchen.

Brian followed Nick out of the kitchen, screwing the cap onto his thermos in the foyer as Nick jogged up the stairs. Brian kicked on his sneakers and pulled his jacket out of the closet. "Nick?" he yelled up the stairs. "Nick? Baylee? Be good at school today, okay? And Nick have him there on time."

Nick's head popped around the corner of the stairwell. "Dude, relax, it's me," he said, "What could possibly go wrong?"

Brian stared at his friend for a long, withering moment.

"Okay so a lot of shit could go wrong," Nick conceeded after a few beats. "But it's not going to," he added. "I got this. Go."

Brian hesitated.

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly, don't worry," came Lauren's voice.

"Okay, thanks. Bye guys! Bye Baylee!" Brian headed out the door.

"Dude!" Nick yelled, "Why'd you believe her but not me?!"

*****
Brian pushed open the door to the diner and looked around. Molly was sitting in a corner booth, staring into the table, her face sad and solemn. Brian gestured to the table as a waitress asked if he needed any help and he slid into the seat across from Molly, who looked up as he lowered into the booth.

"Thanks for coming," she said, her voice thick.

"What's going on?" Brian asked.

Molly took a deep breath, but before she could answer him, a waitress came over. "How are you two this morning?" she sing-songed to them.

Molly didn't look prepared to answer, so Brian looked up at the waitress, smiled, and answered, "We're doing well. How're you, ma'm?"

"Good, good," she clucked. She pulled out her little notepad. "What can I get you two?"

Brian glanced at Molly, then turned back to the waitress. "How about two plates of steak and eggs, two cups of coffee, two glasses of orange juice and an order of toast to split?" he asked. Molly's eyes travelled to Brian's face. "On me," Brian assured her. He smiled, then looked at the waitress again.

"Sure thing dollface," she answered, scribbling down his order on her pad, then turning and scrambling away.

Brian looked back to Molly. "You look like you haven't eaten yet."

"I haven't." She paused, "I didn't last night, either." Molly sighed. "Look, Brian, I know I can come off really bitchy and pushy..." she gnawed her lip a moment, trying to decide where to go next.

"You aren't bitchy," Brian laughed, "You just know what you want."

Molly's eyes met Brian's. "Emma's sick."

"I know," Brian answered. "I paid the bills, remember?"

Molly suckered a deep breath. "She had a check up to see how the last round of treatment was helping her out," she said slowly, "And... they discovered it's not... helping."

Brian frowned, "Not helping?"

"Not even a little bit," Molly answered. She reached for the bundle of silverware on the table and started unravelling it from the napkin it was packaged in. "She's - she's discouraged. The way she's talking, she's ready to give up. I'm scared."

Brian reached across the table and took Molly's hand. "It's okay," he said quietly, "It's okay to be scared."

"Jake's irritated because I refuse to believe that Emma could die," Molly confessed. She looked into Brian's eyes. "I knew if anyone would understand me about how scared I am of that, it'd be you."

Brian nodded slowly.

"Brian," Molly's voice shook nervously. "There's... there's this one thing..."

"Yeah?"

"I was looking online and they say that having the treatment for more than one wave is crucial. It's detrimental. Most patients don't show results on only one cycle." Molly stared up into Brian's eyes. "She needs to go a second round."

"So book it," he answered, "Consider it paid."

Molly had to admire Brian's solid lack of hesitation. He hadn't even blinked at the thought of paying out another bucketload of money to appease Emma's doctors. Molly swallowed. "Well, see," she said slowly, "Emma doesn't want you to pay it."

Brian's eyebrows cinched together, "What? Why?"

"She feels weird accepting charity," Molly explained.

"It's not charity," Brian said.

Molly shrugged. "She refuses to let you pay out of pocket for this expense to go through another round. She didn't even want me to confront you about the whole thing. She didn't want you to know about her still being sick and all..." Molly paused.

"So what are you suggesting? Anonymous donation?"

"She'd know it was you," Molly replied.

"So..." Brian looked cluelessly at Molly, "So what then? What're you suggesting?"

"You have health insurance don't you?" Molly asked.

"Yeah," Brian replied, "Of course. What's that got to do with anything?"

Molly's mouth flew as quickly as she could get the words out, "I thought maybe if you married Emma she'd be on your insurance policy and she'd be covered and the treatment would be covered and she wouldn't have to think about you paying it out of pocket because your insurance would cover the bill and she'd be able to get better."

Brian stared at Molly, dumbfounded.

"Here's your food, sweets," the waitress sang, returning. She stood at the end of the table with her tray and slowly started unloading plates of steak and egg and mugs and juice and butter tray.

Brian felt like his mind was gone, stolen away. He stared at Molly, who stared back at him, and as the last plate dropped onto the table before him and the waitress hugged her tray to her chest, Brian could only just barely gasp out the words, "Thank you very much."

"Say something," Molly pleaded as soon as the waitress was gone.

"Marry her?" Brian asked.

Molly blushed. "I know it's crazy, it's extreme, but... you're - well, frankly, you're single right now, right? Why not?"

"Do you know how pissed off my son would be if I got remarried?"

"Nobody has to know about it," Molly answered, "Just a buzz buzz quick quick thing at the City Hall and some paper work saying ya'll are married and she's covered and that's it."

Brian could barely believe the words he was hearing.

"Don't act like you don't know how City Hall marriage works," Molly laughed, "Don't forget that's what you were going to use twenty years ago."

"Are you crazy?" Brian asked.

Molly shrugged, "Maybe," she answered, "But don't try to tell me you wouldn't have done this, too, if it could've saved Lorraine."

"Leighanne," Brian corrected her, his throat closing up. "My wife's name was Leighanne."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brian was driving around aimless coutry roads in the silence of the cab of the truck, thinking about Leighanne and everything Molly had said. Beside him, on the passanger seat, sat his entire untouched breakfast in a styrofoam box. He gripped the wheel tightly as his tires spun across the dirt.

Ever since the night with the bottle of Jack after visiting Maryfield Farms, Brian had been thinking of a particular conversation with Leighanne. Her voice was echoing in his head. He could still smell her perfume, still see the low cut, lacy black camisole she'd been wearing in the heat of summer, her skin-tight jeans slung low on her hips... Her hair was wet from the shower and she smelled warm, like laundry fresh from the dryer. She'd sat across from him at the table, held his hands in hers, and asked him if he'd ever considered the fact that they'd never had wills made up.

"So what?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"So what happens if something happens to one of us?" Leighanne asked frankly. "What happens to Baylee, what do we do with our assets?" she paused. "Don't you want to plan and ensure, legally, that every base is covered?"

"We don't need wills to ensure that," Brian answered. "Even if I dropped dead, you'd still be here for Baylee."

"What if we both drop dead?"

"Those odds are so slim..."

"What if we're in a car accident and we'd both killed in impact?" she demanded.

"Leighanne, that's not going to--"

"You don't know that."

Brian pulled the car to the side of the road and turned off the ignition. He was parked in the middle of no where, but he'd found a field that stretched off almost as far as the eye could see, and he stared out the window at it. The grass rolled along off into the distance. It felt strangely comforting.

Brian touched his mouth, practically able to feel the heaviness of her lips on his mouth. He sat quietly like that, his fingers hovering just off his skin. He felt a shiver slither down his spine. He hadn't wanted to hear it then, and he still didn't want to hear it now. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. He reached for it off the dashboard, and looked at the caller ID. Tate's Creek Elementary & Middle School.

Brian groaned.

*****
Baylee was sitting in the principal's office, his arms folded across his chest, with angry tears in his eyes. He looked up when Brian entered the room, nearly forty minutes after the principal had called him. The other kids' parents had already come and gotten him. Baylee felt like he'd been forgotten, or worse - overlooked. He shifted his weight to indicate anger at Brian, and stared at the corner of the ceiling.

"Baylee," Brian's voice was stern, "What is going on?" he asked.

Baylee shrugged.

The principal's office door opened and Nick came out, looking sick to his stomach. When he spotted Brian, his face drained of all color. "Um hey," Nick said sheepishly.

"What the hell happened?" Brian demanded.

Nick looked at Baylee, then back to Brian. He could feel his throat swelling. He wondered if it swelled all the way if that could be considered a medicial need and Brian wouldn't be able to be pissed at him anymore. Nick reached for his throat, about to put the drama into effect, when the principal stepped out of her office behind him and said, "Baylee was in a fight this morning."

Brian's eyes widened. "A fight?" he asked, spinning on his heels to look at Baylee, who had turned to glare at the wall. "What were you fighting for?"

"He and another boy had a disagreement," stated the principal.

Baylee whipped around, "They said you killed mom," he yelled at Brian. "He was teasing me saying you got away with killing her because you're famous."

"What?" Brian demanded, "Who would even say that?"

"All the stupid kids here at school," Baylee answered, "All the people here. You're too busy thinking about that cancer girl to even notice that this whole town is stupid and thinks you killed my mom. I hate it here," Baylee added.

Brian turned wild-eyed to look at Nick and the principal. "What is he talking about?" he demanded.

Nick shrugged, clearly clueless, but the principal's cheeks pinkened just a tad. "Well there has been a - a rumor," she answered quietly.

Brian felt his heart start racing. "A rumor?" he asked.

Nick's eyes widened in shock, "You people think B-Rok killed her?"

The principal sighed, "I don't, but there's a rumor."

"She was in a car accident," Brian snapped, "She was in a head-on collision with a truck -" Baylee's face crumpled as Brian spoke. "She didn't have her seat belt on right, and she flew through the windshield. They wouldn't even let us see her --"

"Daddy stop it," Baylee whispered.

Brian's voice caught in his throat at the sound of Baylee calling him daddy again. It'd been awhile.

Nick was staring at his sneakers.

The principal's voice shook just a bit, "I'm sure the rumors are -- unfoundeed..."

"To say the least," Nick hissed.

"...but Baylee still shouldn't be fighting on the school grounds."

Brian looked at Baylee. "No more fighting, buddy, okay?"

Baylee nodded.

"Problem solved," Brian snapped at the principal. "C'mon, Baylee, let's go."

Baylee got up and grabbed his backpack from the floor and hurried to Brian's side. "C'mon Nick. I have some bones to pick with you, too, about this." Brian motioned for Nick to follow. Nick's feet felt like led as he did so.

*****
Lauren's face was pale when Brian recounted what the principal had said about the rumors. "That's crap," Lauren answered, shaking her head, "Good God is that crap. You're like the last person in the world ever that would do something like that."

Brian shrugged, "Tell the entire town of Lexington that, apparently."

"That's ridiculous."

"You should write an article about it or something," Nick suggested, "In the paper, to detonate the rumors."

"Detonate?" Brian asked.

Nick shrugged, "I dunno, whatever word I meant."

Lauren turned on Nick, "And you," she said, furrowing her eyebrows, "You taught Baylee how to fight?"

Nick's lips puckered out in a thoughtful way. He hesitated, "Erm, well. Yes."

"What in the world were you thinking?" she asked.

"Well he was getting picked on because his scalp looked like a giant pube and..."

Lauren rolled her eyes, "Oh my God, so the answer to bullies is fighting?"

Nick shrugged. "That's what I did to get by."

"You also spent more time in the freaking principal's office than the principal did. I've heard the stories." Lauren let out an agitated sigh.

Nick's face fell and he looked at the floor, clearly abashed. Brian sighed, "Just don't teach him anymore moves, okay?" he asked, trying to diffuse the situation. "It's fine, he just needs to learn that fighting isn't the answer, that's all. Think you can handle telling him that, Nick? Since you're the reason he thinks otherwise."

Nick nodded solemnly, then trotted up the stairs with a salute, as though on a mission.

"I'm sorry he's such a frickin' idiot sometimes," Lauren apologized when Nick was out of hearing range.

Brian sighed, "Honestly, I have bigger things on my mind than Nick's idiocy and Baylee fighting." He turned and wandered into the kitchen.

Lauren followed, and when Brian opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, she pushed his hand back into the ice box. "You don't need alcohol to deal with things," she reminded him. She steered him toward the kitchen table's chair. "I'll make you hot chocolate." Lauren walked by him and started pulling ingredients together. "So what's on your mind, Brian?" she asked as she poured milk into a small sauce pan.

Brian grabbed hold of the placemat on the table and spun it slowly. He looked up at Lauren, at her brown hair swishing as she moved, adding chocolate and sugar into the pan and stirring it with a whisk. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her dark green eyes flecked with gold and worry. She raised one eyebrow.

"I think I'm going to have to marry Emma Harris," he said quietly.

Lauren almost flipped the pan off the stove in shock. She righted it and turned around to star at Brian, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "What?" she demanded.

Brian recounted the whole story about what Molly had said at the diner. The entire time, Lauren's eyes grew wider and wider and more and more surprised. "What a nerve," she gasped at the end of his tale. "That takes a lot of balls to ask you to do something like that..."

"She cares about her friend," Brian answered quietly. "I'd have asked Nick to marry Leighanne if it would've saved her."

Lauren's mouth curved into a frown and she turned to look at the stove again. She sighed. "He wouldn't have done it," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Nick, he wouldn't have married her."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a jackass," Lauren answered.

Brian sighed. "I'm just using it as an analogy."

Lauren poured the hot chocolate into a mug and turned around, placing it in front of Brian. She poured the rest into a second mug and lowered herself into a chair, too, and stared at Brian for a long moment. "Are you going to do it?" she asked.

Brian took a long mouthful of the cocoa. He lowered the mug and stared down at the pattern in the swirling foam. "I can't very well let her die," he said quietly, "Can I?"

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Emma's voice filled the house. Jake looked up from the TV show he was watching, a sinking feeling creeping into his stomach, and turned the volume up on the set. Thundering on the stair well told him that however loud he turned the TV up, he wasn't going to get out of being involved in this argument, though.

Jake grabbed a handful of popcorn in self defense and shoved it into his mouth, rendering himself incapable of speech.

Emma burst into the living room. "Do you have any idea what your wife did?" she bellowed, standing between Jake and the TV set. Molly followed Emma into the room, her eyes wild and hair frizzy from nerves. Emma pointed at Molly. "She told Brian Littrell to marry me so together, wedded in holy matrimony, we can essentially commit insurance fraud."

Jake blinked rapidly, thinking to himself how quickly the popcorn cover was going to abandon him and force him to respond. His mind scrambled for an appropriate answer that wouldn't make either of the two livid-looking women before him slaughter him in his sleep.

"Emma needs to keep going with the treatment," Molly shouted before the last granules of popcorn slid down Jake's throat. "She can't give up now! Research proves with this treatment option that you have to go through multiple cycles before results show."

"The treatments are expensive Molly," Emma yelled, turning to look at her frazzled friend, "Money does not grow on trees!"

"Neither do lives!" Molly yelled.

"Maybe I'm supposed to die!" Emma yelled back.

"Why?!" Molly's voice squeaked and Jake reached for more popcorn and muted the TV set. "Because you can't afford it? Brian is perfectly willing to drop a check right now to pay for the bill."

"I don't want Brian footing my bill!" Emma yelled.

Molly's eyes narrowed, "Which is why I went to him and asked him about his insurance policy. It's a way to get the treatment and not have Brian pay out-of-pocket for it!"

"I don't want to be endebted to him anymore than I already am," Emma replied, "He didn't want to be a part of my life, so he doesn't need to be. Don't force the guy to do shit he doesn't want to do."

Molly whirled to look at Jake, who'd just swallowed his second mouthful of popcorn, and asked, "What do you think, Jake, as a man?" Emma turned to look at him, too.

Jake's eyes travelled between Molly and Emma slowly. He ran his tongue along his teeth. They stared at him, waiting for a response. "Em... you do need the treatment..."

Emma threw her hands into the air, "You're actually siding with Match Maker Mary over here?" she demanded.

Molly turned to Emma, "Well he is my husband."

"Get your balls out of her pocket, Jake," Emma snaped, and stormed out of the doorway.

Jake stared after her, dumbfounded. "And here I thought I found the one neutral thing I could say," he stammered.

Molly crawled onto the sofa beside him. "She's being irrational," she said.

Jake hesitated.

Molly looked up at him. She'd felt the muscles in his chest tighten with the hesitation. She raised an eyebrow. "What aren't you saying?" she asked.

Jake wanted to crawl into a hole and becoe invisible to all people. He cleared his throat, "Just... that maybe... I don't know. Maybe proposing to Brian for her was a little off-the-chart?"

Molly made a noise that meant she didn't like what Jake had just said, and climbed back off the couch, disappearing into the kitchen. Jake let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding since the words had eked out of his mouth, and slid down against the seat cushions.

*****
Baylee was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, when Nick knocked and let himself into the room without waiting for Baylee to invite him. Nick poked his head in the doorway. "Hey can we talk?"

Baylee glanced over. "Whatever," he answered.

Nick closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair at Baylee's desk backwards, resting his chin on the seat back. He stared at Baylee a moment, then spun around in the chair a couple times. Baylee watched from his pillow, an eyebrow raised.

"What do you want?"

Nick stopped spinning. The room warbled a little bit. He decided that was enough spinning and grounded his feet. "So it's like this," he said, "That fighting stuff I showed you? Can we like, delete it from your brain?"

"They were making fun of him," Baylee said.

"Yeah, but --"

Baylee sat up. "He's my dad," he said simply, "That's all I got left now. My dad and how I remember them being. And those kids were dumping all over that."

Nick nodded slowly. The room was still spinning just a little bit. He gnawed the inside of his mouth. "I get that," he said after a moment.

"He didn't kill my mom," Baylee said, "Why would they say that? It's so mean."

Nick shrugged. "Because people are mean in general sometimes," he said, "I mean, not all people. But some people." He studied Baylee. "People say crap about me and your dad and Kev and Howie and AJ all the time," he said, "Mostly it's because they're jealous we have this great relationship and they aren't a part of it."

"Like they're jealous?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah, I guess." He leaned back against Baylee's desk, still holding onto the chair back, and looked up at the ceiling. "In a way, I guess that's kinda what's going on here. They don't understand how your dad feels, they don't get how great your parents were together. You know? So they feel like they gotta rip it up, what little bit is left of it, you know?"

Baylee sighed, "That's dumb."

"People are dumb."

"Yeah." Baylee picked at his fingernails. He looked back up. "Do people pick on you and Lauren like that?" he asked.

"Yeah but we ain't married," Nick answered.

Baylee didn't miss a beat. "Why not?"

Nick shrugged.

Baylee laid back down. "I don't like the cancer girl," he said.

"Emma?" Nick asked.

"Whatever her name is," Baylee answered. "He doesn't belong with her. He belongs with my mom."

Nick sighed. "Yeah, but your mom's not here anymore. So... your dad's just making new friends is all. It's not like he's gonna marry her or anything."

"You promise?" Baylee asked.

Nick made the cross my heart an hope to die motion, then dramatically enacted the stick a needle in my eye part, ending with the flourish of falling onto the floor, clutching his eye socket. Baylee laughed and rolled onto the floor where the two boys started wrestling.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nick came rumbling down the stairs an hour later after having started a video game with Baylee and found Lauren sitting alone, reading in the living room. He turned into the kitchen, planning not to interrupt her reading, and whipped the fridge open and pulled out a couple bottles of Canada Dry and snatched a bag of chips from the counter. He paused in the hall when he didn't see Brian's shoes in the foyer. He ducked into the living room. "Hey Laur?" he said. When she looked up, he asked, "Where's Brian?"

"He went to see Emma," Lauren replied. She glanced back down at the book.

Nick hovered in the doorway. "They're going on another date?" he asked.

Lauren hesitated. "Well. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Lauren lowered her book to her lap. "Look, he didn't want me to tell you what's going on, he wanted to tell you himself."

"There's something going on?" Nick questioned. He stepped into the living room. "What's going on?"

Lauren sighed. "Nick..."

"You shouldn't hint to shit if you don't plan to tell me, it's just mean. You know I can't handle that." He inched closer. "C'mon, it's not like you can't tell me secrets. I'm a good secret keeper. I'm practically Dumbledore, for crying out loud."

Lauren drew a deep breath, "Well, Emma needs more help with medical bills," she explained slowly, "More than Brian really can pay for out of pocket."

"He need help out payin' it?" Nick asked, "We could probably swing a couple grand..."

"No because he's going to put her on his insurance," Lauren answered.

"Oh." Nick nodded, "Well that makes sense. Fair enough. What's the big deal about that?" He laughed and turned, started to walk out of the room, then stopped short. He stood stock-still for a long moment, then turned around. "Wait. Wait a second."

Lauren bit her lip.

"Ohhhh no - no - no - no -nonono," Nick groaned, "He's not - he's not -"

"He is," Lauren said.

"Noooo," Nick whined out, returning and dropping into a chair. His heart was racing, the room spinning again like in the desk chair upstairs.

"You're awful opposed for someone who's spent countless random hours suggesting Brian get laid," Lauren pointed out.

"There's a difference," he said, "Between laid and --" Nick palm-smacked his forehead, "Oh crap," he muttered, "Oh shit, oh shit-shit-shit."

"What's the matter?"

Nick lowered into a chair. "I literally just promised Baylee he wouldn't get --" Nick paused. "You know. The M-word."

"You can't even say marriage?" Lauren asked.

Nick blushed. "I just - you know, I hate the concept." He cleared his throat, "He's seriously marrying her?"

"He's seriously going to suggest it," Lauren answered, "Whether she agrees or not is another story."

"He didn't even run this by me? Or by Baylee, for that matter?" Nick demanded.

Lauren shrugged, "Its not like a real marriage, Nick. He doesn't plan for her to move in or anything, just gain the benefits of his insurance."

Nick paused. "You mean he's gonna get married and still not get laid?"

Lauren sighed. "Can you think with any other body part besides your pecker?"

Nick shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe."

"Try it sometime," she suggested.

Nick sighed. "Dude, Baylee's gonna be ripped shit."

"He'll get used to the idea," Lauren supplied, "Just let it roll."

"No seriously, he hates her."

"Has he even met her?"

"I dunno," Nick answered, "That's not my job to monitor that. Wait, no he had to have met her. Brian said he like embarassed the crap out of him at the food court in the mall the first time he talked to her again."

Lauren shrugged, "He'll get over it. Right now, the whole thing of losing his mum is still heavy on his mind. He'll overcome that eventually and learn to appreciate Emma."

"I just wish he would've included at least Baylee," Nick said, "And by the way, can we just say that this is crazy? Marrying someone off the cuff like this?"

Lauren stared at Nick. "You said once the only way you'd marry me was if it was unexpected and off-the-cuff."

"That's different," Nick replied.

"How?"

"Because that's like ear-loping. This is like... he hasn't seen her in years and years and decades and shit and bada-bing-bada-boom, they're hitched because she's dying and needs insurance. I dunno, it seems random. It seems weirder than getting ear-loped."

"Uh- huh."

Nick stood up and waved the ginger ale at Lauren, "I gotta go before these get warm," he said by way of an excuse. He hated when the M-word topic came up. Specifically when he'd been dating a girl for a while, as he had Lauren.

"Run off then," Lauren teased as he gathered his stuff up.

"I'm not running off, Baylee's just waiting for me is all."

"Uh-huh."

Nick scurried for the door.

"And Nick?" Lauren called, "Don't tell Baylee. Let Brian do that."

Nick nodded, "Oh believe you me," he said, "I'm definitely not treading that ground myself. That is all Brian."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jake answered the door when Brian knocked and stood in the doorway for a moment, rocking on his feet, just looking at him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Molly's head peeking out from the kitchen and waved Brian back so he could step out onto the porch himself. He pulled the door shut behind him. He stuck his hands in his pockets, "Look I'm gonna say this fast because we have about twelve seconds before Molls opens the window to listen in, so get your mental pen ready. You don't have to do this, whatever Molly said. Emma isn't your responsibility. Helping her isn't going to bring your wife back."

Brian blinked in surprise at Jake's words. He glanced to his left as a window cracked open and the curtains fluttered as Molly ducked back behind them. He looked at Jake solemnly, "Thanks, man."

"I figured someone had to say it," Jake said with a shrug.

"Is Emma home?" Brian asked.

Jake nodded, and turned for the door, swinging it open and waving Brian inside. Molly reappeared in the kitchen door. "Brian," she said, swiping a lock of hair behind her ear, "How are you? I didn't even know you were here." She smiled.

Brian glanced at Jake who smirked, then turned back to Molly. "Yeah, I'm here. Is Emma here by any chance?" he asked.

Molly nodded demurely. She pointed at the stairs, "Right up there." As Brian trotted up the stairs, he distinctly heard Molly hiss, "What'd you tell him before I got that window open?"

"It's not important," Jake replied.

Brian knew somehow Jake hadn't heard the end of Molly's curiousity on that subject, though. He wondered how long he had before she'd be at Emma's bedroom door with a glass, listening there, too. He decided he and Emma needed to go somewhere to talk because he'd do nothing but fumble and stutter if he thought Molls was listening in.

Emma's door was easy to find, it was open and light was spilling into the hallway from it. He edged to the door frame and peeked inside. Emma was sitting at an old fashioned roll top desk, bent forward, moving in wide motions as she finger painted. He leaned against the frame and watched her. Her bucket hat was abandoned on the mattress behind her, revealing her bald head. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans combo with fluffy grey slippers shaped like kittens. Her eyes were closed as her hands moved.

Then she opened them and caught sight of Brian out of her periphial vision and let out a shriek.

"I'm sorry!" Brian called, stepping in quickly and catching a small cup of paint that she'd knocked from the desk. Somehow, none of it managed to spill on the powder blue carpet underneath it. He put it on the desk, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Why the hell are you sneaking in like that?!" she cried, "My God, you gave me a heart attack." She had paint on her cheeks where she'd grabbed her face when she'd screamed. Brian bit his lip to keep from laughing at the colorful marks on her skin.

"I'm sorry. You were concentrating," he said, "I didn't want to disturb you." He glanced down at the painting and saw a swirling mass of color and shapes that, though they were too abstract to really identify the subject matter, seemed to tell a story in their intensity. "This is interesting," Brian commented, tilting his head to look at it more.

Emma blushed. "It's not finished."

"What's it about?" he asked.

Emma had never had anybody ask her what her paintings were about before. Plenty of people asked what they were, but never what they were about. She thought she was the only one that understood that her paintings told stories, that they lived and breathed with emotion and plot. She hesitated.

Brian glanced at her, "You don't have to tell me," he said, "Art can be really personal sometimes."

"It's about a fight I had this morning with Molly," she said quickly.

Brian glanced back down at the paint. Sharp edges, flaming colors, with a subtle blue speckled throughout. He could see it. He could hear it. The contrasts had taken on an almost audiable element that seemed to shout at him.

"Do you paint?" Emma asked.

A noise in the hallway made them both glance at the open door, but nobody was visibly there. Remembering his thought to go somewhere else, Brian looked back at Emma. "Are you hungry by any chance?" he asked.

Emma hesitated, the argument with Molly flooding back into her mind, recalling what they'd been fighting about. "I -"

"I just want to talk," Brian said.

Emma drew a deep breath. It would be easier to talk to Brian sensibly without Molly listening to their every word, she told herself. She could picture Molly barging in and interrupting them and making sure things went her way. Emma nodded, "Yeah, let's go eat."

Brian followed Emma into the hall, where they almost ran into Molly, who was scrambling to get up from a crouching position by the doorway. Molly had turned beet red and kept her eyes downcast to the floor, refusing to make contact with either of them.

*****
Emma had forgotten how hard it is to eat spaghetti in even a semblance of grace until she was sitting across from Brian at a restaurant and there was no going back. She coiled the spaghetti as tightly on her fork as she could, but every time ended up with this extra strand she had to suck into her mouth which always managed to deposit a twinkle of sauce onto her nose.

Brian had ordered lasangna and didn't have the same dilemma she did. He watched her eating, though, thinking about the scene in Lady and the Tramp.

After a long pause of chewing and silverware clinking, their eyes met over the table and Brian took it as a cue. He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to begin a speech he'd prepared on his way to the house, but Emma interrupted him.

"Whatever Molly told you to do tonight," she said, "You can just forget."

Brian paused, thinking of the painting and the fight and realizing Molly must've told Emma what she'd done, meeting Brian at the crack of dawn to suggest marriage to him. She must've given Emma a heads-up. Brian pressed his fingers together and thought for a moment, then he said, "Is it true that the treatment you're getting needs a second cycle?"

Emma stared at her plate, absently pushing a meat ball around with her fork. "Yeah," she whispered, "But it's ridiculously expensive." She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to refresh, and looked up at Brian. "I refuse to allow you to spend that kind of money on me."

"Without the treatment you're going to die," Brian said slowly.

Emma shrugged, "Not neccessarily. Lots of people live through cancer," she pointed out.

The waitress came by and replaced their basket of bread sticks.

"You're a brave woman," Brian said quietly, "You're brave because clearly you aren't afraid of death."

"I'm not. I know where I'm going."

"But you're a stupid woman because you're not trying to avoid it."

Emma stared at him for a long moment, feeling slightly abashed. She cast her eyes downward. "Don't judge me," she said.

"I'm not judging you," Brian replied, "I just think you need to think this over. Like really think about what it means. I know the whole argument some religious sects have over medicine and all being that God will allow only His plan to happen, but maybe the medicine being available is what His plan is."

Brian felt weird, talking about God and His plan again. It'd come out so natural, so freely. He hadn't talked about God - or thought about God, for that matter - since Leighanne had died. But it felt so right, the words he'd said. Medicine had flat out failed Leighanne. There'd been nothing they could've done for her, there was no way to save her.
"Then he needs to give me a shitload of money, doesn't he?"

"Or insurance."

Emma's eyes met Brian's. "Don't," she whispered.

Brian set his jaw, "Emma," he said quietly, "Don't you feel like I owe it to you? Don't you feel like, if nothing else in my life, I could at least do this much for you?"

Tears filled Emma's eyes, "Brian, it just doesn't work like that. You can't make up for the past with some good deeds now and expect it to be all gone."

He reached across the table, "I don't expect it to be gone. I know what I'm doing is essentially using an eyeddropper to put out a flame that I lit years ago..." he gripped her hand in his and rubbed the top of it with his thumb gently, soothingly, their eyes connected. "But Em, I want to do at least this much."

Her throat felt tight and she felt her lower lip quivering. She closed her eyes, fighting more tears from falling. She took in a ragged breath, then looked up at him. "I wanted to marry you twenty years ago," she whispered, "I wanted to run away to Tennessee and be your wife and have your children, and the part of me that wished for that fairy tale feels broken that this - this is how it's going to be... The part of me that wished for that fairy tale is screaming that it's too close to the dream to have it not be real." She bit her lip.

Brian felt his chest tighten. "Emma, please," he whispered, "Just this once, can't the prince on the white horse just rescue the maiden without the happily ever after?"

Emma swiped her eyes with her free hand, "I don't want to force you to be in my life."

"Nobody is forcing me to do this, Em," he replied, "I care about you. I do love you. And I just want to help you. We get married, you get insurance, you can get the treatment. When you're all better we can file and get this whole nightmare erased and you can find a real prince with a real kingdom to give you."

Emma could feel her heart breaking as he spoke. It'd all been reduced to this - to a fake wedding proposal for a fake marriage so she could be healed and go on to live a fake life with someone who was her fake soulmate... when her real soulmate was sitting right there, right across from her, wearing a strained smile.

"Please Emma," Brian whispered, "I already lost one woman I love, don't let it be two."

Chapter Thirty

Nick was sitting on the front porch, staring into the dark yard. His cell phone weighed heavy on his lap. He stared at the empty space in the driveway where Brian's truck belonged and sighed. The door creaked open and Lauren came out onto the porch and lowered herself down beside Nick. "Are you coming inside?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself to protct from the chill.

Nick glanced at her and shrugged, "I dunno," he confessed. He pressed the unlock button on his phone and saw it was after one o'clock. Lauren leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her far arm, then pressed his face against the side of her head and pulled her tight into his chest. He closed his eyes.

They both jumped when his phone started singing Lights by Journey. Nick looked at the caller ID, didn't recognize it, and a sinking feeling swelled in his gut. He pulled back from Lauren and she looked up at him, nervous.

"Hello?" Nick answered it.

The voice on the other end of the line was a bit panicked. "Is this Nick Carter?" she asked.

Nick hesitated. "Erm..."

"Is Emma there?"

"Who's this?"

"Molly, Emma's friend?" Nick was about to ask how the hell she got his number when she blurted out, "Its after one o'clock - they said they'd be back by ten."

Nick glanced at Lauren nervously.

"Did they show up there?" Molly asked.

"No," Nick answered. "They ain't here."

*****
Brian's headlights sliced the darkness of the highway. He was laughing loudly, as was Emma, about a memory from high school they'd brought up. "What about the time," she said, "When Jake made the winning goal on the wrong damn net?"

Brian was practically wheezing, "Wrong way Gretzky," he choked out, "I forgot we used to call him that in school."

"The announcer? Jacob Evans breaks away from the hustle by the net...he's taking the puck to center ice... to enemy ice... what in the world is this boy doing!" She was dissolving into giggles. She looked at Brian, "Poor Jake, he still won't talk about this."

"It was his most embarassing moment," Brian laughed, "He did a speech on it in Public Speaking."

"He got hounded for weeks in the caf," Emma said.

"The hockey players are always brutal to each other," Brian answered.

Emma sobered up. Are? She turned and looked at the window, as street lamps flashed by and the more pernament scenery of the towns loomed, glowing in amber beyond a thin line of trees that blockaded the highway. She turned back to Brian. "I keep forgetting how crazy this is," she whispered.

Brian glanced at her, then turned back to the road. He gripped the wheel tighter. For a split second...he'd forgotten twenty years had passed.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do, Brian?" Emma asked, her voice nervous.

It had all developed so quickly. One moment they'd been eating pasta, the next they'd agreed if they were going to do it, then they should do it like they'd been going to do in high school. Emma had even kept the old, faded license to marry from Tennessee curled into the 'contract' that she and Brian had written up, lodged deep in her purse. Brian wasn't completely convinced they'd accept it, though, but honestly, the idea of getting it done and over with -like pulling a bandaid- was more appealing than waiting to find out, and they'd jumped into the vehicle and started off.

Now, Emma was forcing him to slow down, to think about the fact he was about to sign a paper marrying himself to her. It wasn't like a band aid if he had to think. He gnawed his lip and kept his eyes trained to the road ahead of them. "I don't want you to die," he answered after a long pause.

Emma looked at her fingertips, entwined around each other on her lap, and whispered, "I'm sorry if you feel forced into this."

Brian shook his head, "I don't."

Emma licked her lips. "Did you ever dream," she laughed, "That we'd be here now, going to do what we planned, twenty years after?"

"I did once," Brian confessed.

Silence fell between them, and he could feel her eyes on his silhouetted face in the darkness. She felt a bubble of air caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallowed back thick nervousness and asked, "You - you did?"

"In 1998," he said slowly, "I had an operation... on my heart..."

"I prayed for you every moment," she whispered. "I saw it on the news, and I was so scared of what might happen..."

Brian took a deep breath, "And while I was under the anesthesia, I was having all these whacky dreams and one of them..." he laughed, "One of them was that I was with you, driving to Tennessee, just like we'd planned, like I'd never left. I wasn't a part of the Backstreet Boys anymore, I was just driving along with you in the dark, laughing and talking and singing like old times." His eyes watered up. "I woke up and I remembered the dream and I - I guess I talk in my sleep a bit because - apparently..." he felt a lump grow in his throat, "Apparently I proposed to Leighanne." He laughed again, nervously. "Trying to propose to you in my dream, I proposed to Leighanne."

Emma blinked in surprise. She'd always envisioned some romantic candlelit dinner and Brian swooping to his knee with a rock the size of a small planet. She'd always pictured them being one of those super couples, the type that could check every box off on a list of perfect couple things. But he hadn't even meant to propose?

"She told me I had to ask again, of course, because I'd been under anesthesia, but I took it as a sign and I got the gut up and asked her within six months."

Emma could barely believe what she was hearing. Basically, she was the reason why Brian had married Leighanne Wallace.

"But yes," he said quietly, "I have dreamt it before."

"Me, too," Emma confessed. But it had never required anesthesia for her... but in day dreams, fully controlled.

From the ash tray, Brian's cell phone rang. He picked it up and handed it to Emma, "Who is it?" he asked.

"It says Frack," Emma answered.

"Oh Lordy," Brian murmured.

Chapter Thirty-One

Nick looked at Lauren as Brian's voicemail outgoing message clicked on. "He's not answering," he muttered, frustration bubbling under his voice. Lauren scowled. "Hey this is B-Rok, leave me a message..." "Aw hell no," Nick said into the phone as it beeped in his ear. "You're answering your phone, Littrell." He hung up the cellphone and quickly hit resend on the call. It started ringing again.

"Is it really going to help calling him again and again?" Lauren asked.

"Yes," Nick answered firmly. "Eventually, he'll get sick of listening to it ring. And I ain't gonna be the first one who caves." He settled himself down onto the chair. "I have all night."

*****
"I don't think he's going to give up," Emma said as, once again, Brian's phone vibed in the ash tray.

"He'll give up. Nick doesn't have the patience to out wait me."

"Why are we avoiding his phone call again?" Emma questioned.

Brian hesitated. He wasn't really positive anymore. The ringtone was slowly but surely wearing on his nerves. At this point, though, it was more to do with winning and the principle of beating Nick than it was about anything else.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Zzzzzzzzzzzt.

"You should probably answer it," Emma suggested quietly, "What if it's an emergency?"

"Nick doesn't have emergencies. Nick has blonde moments. Nick has hand-stuck-in-a-pickle-jar moments."

"Stuck in a pickle jar?"

Brian nodded. "Like I said."

"How does one --" Emma paused, "Nevermind. He sounds... unique. But isn't he watching your son?"

Brian paused.

"What if it has something to do with Baylee?" Emma asked.

Brian whipped the wheel to the side of the road and put the car into park, the emergency lights flashing and snapped the phone out of the ash tray as it vibed yet again. He held it to his ear. "What's going on? What's the matter?" he demanded.

Nick's voice was flat from the boredom of having sat there waiting for him to answer the phone for so long. "I knew you'd pick up."

Brian frowned. Neither of the two boys were very good losers. "What. Do. You. Want."

"Lauren informed me you're thinking about gettin' hitched."

Brian glanced at Emma. "Not... exactly," he said.

"Not exactly?"

Brian shifted to look out his door window and whispered, "It's not like that, you know?"

"Uh huh..." Nick paused. "What is it like?"

"Nick."

"Brian."

Brian sighed. "You know what it's like." He could feel Emma's eyes on the back of his head. He reached for the door handle and climbed out. Cars rushed by, the air ruffling his hair. He ducked to the back of the truck and leaned against the bed.

"What the hell is all that racket?" Nick demanded.

"I was on the highway," Brian said.

"And now where are you? The sideline of the Indy 500? Jesus."

"I'm outside the truck," Brian said, "I didn't feel like discussing this with you with Emma listening to me. Look, ultimately this isn't really your choice, you do know that right? And it's not really your business....really."

"How is it not my business?" Nick questioned.

"Because it isn't," Brian answered.

"Dude. Since when is my best friend getting hitched not my business?" Nick demanded. "I'm pretty sure that, as your best friend, I should be, like, your best man or whatever."

"I told you, it's not like that, Frack."

"How can you get married without a best man? What about a bachelor party?" Nick questioned, "You realize you're ripping me off a perfectly good stri---" he stopped mid-word. Brian heard the mouthpiece get covered by Nick's hand. "No, I'm not talking about strippers," he said. He uncovered the mouthpiece. "Dude you got me in shit with the woman."

"I don't need a bachelor party or a best man, Nick," Brian said, "It's not a real wedding."

Nick sounded annoyed, "Of course it's a real wedding. Aren't you in love with the chick?"

"Nick."

"Brian."

"I'm not marrying her because I love her. I'm marrying her because she needs insurance and I have insurance and it's a crying shame if she dies because she didn't have insurance when I have plenty of insurance."

"But you love her."

"I used to," Brian said.

Nick sighed. "Plus, you didn't talk to Baylee about this. Don't you think it's kind of important for Baylee to be aware of the fact that he has a stepmother?"

"Nick, it's not like she's moving in with us, okay? This isn't going to be conventional. Basically, I'm a signature on an insurance form, that's it." Brian rubbed his forehead.

"If he finds out," Nick said slowly, "And you aren't the one to tell him, the shit is gonna hit the fan and it's gonna explode all over you."

Brian rolled his eyes, "There is no shit, and there is no fan."

"Oh there's shit," Nick said in a reassuring voice, "And there are plenty of fans."

Brian's eyebrows furrowed, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just -- I'm --" Nick stammered. "Ugh. Forget it. Where the hell are you anyways?"

Brian rubbed the back of his neck. "On the highway."

"The highway?"

"Uh-huh."

There was a long pause while Nick figured out the implications of the highway. Brian waited for it. He could feel the explosion impending. He bit his lower lip. Finally, it came. "Jesus you aren't on your way to Vegas or some shit like that are you?" Nick crowed.

"Tennessee," Brian corrected, "We're going to Tennessee."

"Oh motha-fu----" Nick cut himself off and Brian heard a muffled thumping, followed by Lauren's voice on the other end of the line.

"Brian? Where are you?"

"Lauren?"

"Where are you?"

"On the way to Tennessee to get married," Brian replied.

Lauren was silent for a long moment. "Are you sure you're making the right choice?" she asked.

"Yes," Brian answered, "I am. It's the right-est choice I've made in a long while."

"Okay." Lauren took a deep breath. "Then good luck."

"Thanks."

When Brian got back into the cab of the truck, Emma was turned in her seat to look at him. He put his phone back into the ash tray and he gave her a tiny little smile - not really forced, but not truly natural either - and started the truck back up. "Next stop," he said, "Tennessee."

Chapter Thirty-Two

They arrived in Nashville a little after five in the morning, and Emma was asleep in the passanger seat as the truck rolled into a Marriot parking lot. Brian killed the ignition and looked over at her, leaning against the window, her hat tilted, providing a barrier between her head and the cold window. A small smile was resting on her lips as she slept and Brian wondered what she was dreaming about. He reached over and laid a hand on her hand softly, running his fingers over her knuckles. "Em," he whispered, "Emma, we're there."

She stirred and blinked her eyes open. She looked around herself, clearly disoriented, and sat up quickly, her hat falling off in the motion, and when she looked at Brian and her eyes widened. "Where are we?" she asked.

"The Nashville Marriott," Brian replied, "It's quarter past five, I figured we could get some sleep."

Emma nodded. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds good." She reached for the door handle. Brian reached over and put her hat back on her head. She reached up and grabbed the brim, "Thanks," she said, her voice quiet and mumbling.

They got out of the truck and walked across the parking lot. Emma was wobbly as she walked, and Brian quickly came up alongside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. This is how they walked into the lobby, where Brian greeted the receptionist with a joke and asked for a room for the rest of the morning. The receptionist handed him a room key and Brian guided Emma to the elevator and they rode it to the third floor where their room was waiting for them.

Brian opened the door and Emma stumbled in. Brian hit the light and followed her. As he came around the corner, though, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was only one queen-sized bed. Emma had come to the same realization and stood on the opposite side of the room, staring at the same problem. She looked at Brian. "Now what?"

Brian sighed, "I'll call the receptionist and see if they have a room with two beds," he replied.

Emma nodded and lowered herself into the chair by the desk and opened her purse. She started fishing around in her bag for her pill box, and came up triumphant. She disappeared into the bathroom to get a cup of water while Brian spoke to the receptionist. When the bathroom light switched on, Emma stared at herself in the mirror. Her narrow cheek bones stared back, her eyes blood shot and bagged from the long night, and her lipstick smudged a bit on her chin. She grabbed a tissue and blotted away the lipstick and washed her face with a complimentary soap.

Brian knocked on the door, "They only have the one room available," he called in, "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Emma stared into the mirror at the bags under her eyes. "No," she called back.

"I don't mind sleeping on the floor," Brian offered. She heard him walk away from the door.

Emma rubbed some cool water on the skin under her eyes before she came out of the bathroom. Brian was taking the extra pillows and blanket out of the closet by the door. "You aren't sleeping on the floor," Emma said, "That's stupid."

"But -"

"Brian it's not like we're having sex, we're just sleeping." He watched as she crawled onto the bed, pulled the sheets down and slid under, staying on the left side of the bed. She looked at him. "Well?" His mouth felt dry. He nodded and walked over slowly, pulling down the right side's blankets, and lowered himself down into the blankets, too. Emma pulled the blankets up over them. "Good night, Brian," she offered.

"Actually," he murmured, already feeling sleep coming on, "It's morning."


*****

Emma could feel Brian's breath on her skin when she woke up. His arm was around hers, his face buried into the nape of her neck, their knees bent together. She could feel every muscle in his toned arm, feel every curve and bump of his body pressed into hers. Her heart started racing. She'd woken up in this exact position once before - twenty years ago - in the bed of Brian's truck, under the stars.

Her eyes travelled to the tiny alarm clock on the bedside table. It was after noon. They'd slept for a long time. She shifted her weight and he woke up and rolled away from her quickly, his absence leaving a definite chill in the air around her. Emma sat up. Brian got up off the bed completely and disappeared into the bathroom, mumbling to himself.

Emma hugged her knees to her chest.

When Brian came back out, he leaned against the wall. "I just realized we don't have any toothbrushes," he said. "Or clothing changes. And I don't have my meds." He frowned.

"Yeah, we didn't plan this very well," Emma agreed.

Brian sighed and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. She watched as he fished through it. "Luckily I can call my doc and he'll send a prescription to a drug store here," he muttered. "We'll go buy some clothes..." he pulled out an index card with phone numbers on it.

Emma laughed.

"What?" Brian looked up.

"You still use an index card in your wallet for your numbers," she said.

"Yeah? So?"

"So you used to do that in high school," Emma laughed, "And now you have a big fancy cell phone that can hold more numbers than you can dream and you still have everything on an index card."

Brian laughed, "It's easier."

Emma watched him pull out his cell and dial the number to his doctor's office. He spun around and started pacing as he talked to the doctor. She stayed where she was, hugging her knees to her chest, and patiently waiting. When he'd finished the call, he turned back to her. "Okay, they're sending it to the Walgreens. I gotta ask the receptionist where that is and we'll ask her about a mall or something, too, and get some clothes..." he tucked the index card back into his wallet and pocketed it.

"I can't afford any cl--"

"I'll buy, relax," he said. He paused, "Breakfast. We need food."

"I didn't want you spending more money," Emma complained.

Brian raised an eyebrow, "I'm about to marry you," he said, "I think I can buy you some clothes and breakfast."

Emma bit her lip.


*****

An hour later, Brian had picked up his pills and they'd found the mall. They were sitting in the food court, breakfast from McDonalds nearly fully consumed, the remaining wrappers and cups on a plastic tray in front of them. Emma ripped apart the wrapper on her straw and stared at the little pile she'd made, while Brian chewed the last of the hash browns. "You ready to get some shopping done?" Brian asked her as his straw made the noises of sucking up the last of the orange juice from his cup. He shook it, like that might make more juice appear, and tried again, but still nothing, so he put the cup down and wiped his hands.

Emma nodded.

They chucked the wrappers and replaced the tray on the stack at the McD's counter and Brian led the way into the mall. They turned into an American Eagle store and Brian told her, "Whatever you like," and disappeared to the men's side.

Emma's fingers slid over the different fabrics. She picked up a pair of jeans and was looking at sweatshirts when she realized she was picking the outfit she was going to get married in. She put the sweatshirt back on the shelf and glanced over in Brian's direction. She was selecting a polo shirt and shorts. Still, she didn't want to get married in jeans and a tank. She found a nice white peasant-style blouse and a camisole and was looking at the jewelry -specifically at a pair of earrings shaped like feathers- when Brian came up behind her.

"You want those?" he asked.

Emma shook her head, "This is too much already. I'm just looking."

Brian ducked around the side of the jewelry display. "What ring size are you?" he asked.

"Brian -"

"You can't get married without a ring," he said.

Emma shook her head, "I don't need a ring..."

"I'll guesstimate seven, then," he said.

Emma sighed. "I'm a six actually."

Brian smiled and started fishing through a little basket of rings. He pulled one out - a gaudy looking thing that looked like a class ring. He laughed. "How about this?"

Emma shook her head, "Oh God no," she laughed.

Brian paused. "Actually, no, I know just the ticket." He grinned. He pulled out his wallet, and handed Emma a credit card. "Seriously, get whatever you want... I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

"You'll see."

"Brian, you're not getting a fancy ring," she said, nodding at the basket, "A ten dollar AE special is already more than enough."

Brian smirked, "Relax. I'll be back." He shoved the credit card into her hand, put his purchases on the counter, and told the sales girl, "Help outfit this one up in whatever she wants, okay? She's got my card and the sky's the limit." He winked at Emma and ducked out the door of the store.


*****

When Brian came back a little more than twenty minutes later, Emma had managed to stand her ground and only had caved at the offer of soft brown moccasins, a new hat, and the feather earrings to add to her pile. She'd resisted several gorgeous dresses, sweaters, and, the thing she really considered a triumph, the softest pair of sweatpants known to mankind. Brian was empty handed, but his face was glowing triumpantly.

Emma handed him the bag with his jeans and polo in it, and said, "Why do you look like the Cheshire cat?" Brian didn't answer, instead he led the way to the truck.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Nick woke up on the couch, where Lauren had banned him after they'd fought the night before about Brian and Emma. He groaned, his back killing him from sleeping in a U-like shape on Brian's tiny two-seater couch. He rolled off onto the floor with a thump.

Baylee appeared at the doorway. "Where is my dad?"

Nick lowered his head and pressed his forehead to the cool floor. He'd drank the remaining beer in Brian's fridge before settling into the U-shape sleeping position and now he had a headache from hell. He closed his eyes and groaned.

"Uncle Nick?" Baylee came into the room and stood in front of Nick's head. Nick stared at Baylee's sneakers, trying to piece together something to say. Anything. "Where's my dad, Nick?"

"Business trip," he gurgled.

"Business trip?" Baylee asked, skepticism rising in his voice. "He didn't say bye or nothing."

Nick rubbed his forehead, "You were already in bed when it was time for him to leave."

Baylee stared down at Nick.

"He didn't want to bug you. It came up unexpectedly."

"He doesn't even work," Baylee argued, "How could it be a business trip?"

Nick hadn't thought of that. He struggled to his feet, yawning in the process, his mind racing for answers for Baylee but, in his half-asleep state, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He shrugged. "He'll be back and he'll explain when he gets back where he was, okay?"

Baylee scowled. "Great. Now I don't have any parents." He turned and started to storm out of the room.

"Whoa dude, hold up," Nick said, waking up a bit with Baylee's words, "That's not so. He's gonna be back in a couple --" ...days? hours? Nick realized he didn't have a freaking clue when Brian was gonna be back. He shut his mouth. "The point is you still have your dad."

"Not if he's gonna lie to me and sudenly disappear for no reason," Baylee retorted hotly.

Nick wondered if it was physically possible to not get Brian in deep shit about now, no matter what he said about the entire escapade.

"Don't bother," Baylee said, heading for the stairs, "You can't defend him."

Once Baylee's bedroom door slammed, Nick decided the next thing he should do is kiss and make-up with Lauren. He wondered if the making up would involve sex. He decided he needed Advil before he even thought about sex, and waddled into the kitchen to find Molly and Lauren sitting at the table. They stopped talking the moment he walked into the room.

"What's Baylee slamming around about?" Lauren asked, "What did you say to him?"

Nick squinted at the bright sunshine coming in the windows over the sink. He opened the drawer and pulled out the bottle of Advil. He glanced at Molly, then back at Lauren. "What's she doing here?" he asked, his tone similar to Baylee's.

Molly looked up at Nick, "Well somebody's a grouchy-pants," she chided.

He stuck out his tongue at her and turned to Lauren.

"Mature," Lauren commented. She sighed. "We're talking about Brian and Emma, if you must know."

"You mean the matrimony morons?" Nick asked. He pulled the fridge open, popped the lid off a bottle of orange juice, and proceeded to drink right from the bottle. Lauren made a face. Nick belched. Molly raised an eyebrow. "What about'em?" Nick asked.

Molly turned to Lauren, "He's just the epitomy of the males species, isn't he?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nick demanded. He glanced between Molly and Lauren. "What the hell is a pit-to-mee?"

"Why don't you worry about getting Baylee to agree to go to school now that you've pissed him off, rather than butting in?" Lauren asked.

Nick recapped the bottle of juice and slid it back into the fridge. He put his hands on his hips. "You're being kind of a --" he stopped mid-sentence. He'd been about to say bitch but had realized before the actually word slipped out that girls tended to react a bit on the hormonal side when he called them that, and quickly replaced it with, "-- meanie butt."

Molly choked on the water she'd been sipping.

Lauren fought back a laugh when a pained expression. "I'm being a meanie butt because you were an asshole last night," she replied.

Nick, honestly, had no idea what really had happened last night - other than after hanging up with Brian, they'd had a fight, and it had involved some colorful word choices. He wasn't positive, but he may have already called her a bitch in the last 24-hours, even. He rubbed his chin. Despite not being able to remember it, he was still pretty damn sure that he'd been right.

"Well whenever you feel like sayin' sorry to me," he announced and he turned and left the room.

Lauren rubbed her forehead, exasperated.

Molly laughed, "And you're complaining that this man won't propose to you?" she asked Lauren, nodding in the direction Nick had gone.

Lauren rolled her eyes, "I know, I must be out of my frickin' mind to want to spend the rest of my life dealing with him." She laughed and shook her head, "But God do I ever." A smile crossed her face. "Did you feel that way about your husband?"

"Oh yeah," Molly nodded, "Jake was a real jackass when he wanted to be. Still is, really. But you know, they're men. They do stupid crap."

Lauren sighed "You know of all the guys I've ever known the only one that's never done anything really stupid was Brian? I wish Nick would grow up a little bit, like Brian did."

"Oh Brian's done plenty of stupid," Molly laughed.

Lauren's eyes sparkled, "Oh?"

Molly shook her head, "Uh-uh... What happens in high school stays in high school. Besides, Brian knows way more crap about me than I do him, if he ever found out I'm the one that dredged up high school stuff he would so beat me at that game."

Lauren laughed and got up and got pitcher of water out of the fridge to refill their glasses, then took the orange juice container, shook it, declared, "Empty," with an eye roll and threw it out before returning to her seat. She sipped her water. "So," she said, "Do you think they'll do it? Get married, I mean?"

"God I hope so," Molly admitted. "I've been waiting for that fairy tale to come true since the late 1980s."

Lauren smiled. "I'd like to see Brian happy again. Ever since Leighanne died..." she stared down into her water. "He's just been so sad, you know? He's such a good guy, he deserves something good in his life."

"You aren't asking me if I think they'll get married then..." she said, "You're asking me if you think they'll fall back into love."

Lauren nodded.

Molly laughed, "Honey, I don't think they ever fell out of it completely."

Chapter Thirty-Four

Emma let herself into the hotel room. She was exhausted. Every muscle in her body was groaning for relief. Brian had dropped her off so she could relax while he went to get take-out Chinese food for dinner. They hadn't been able to get married - the license had expired long ago, but they'd reapplied and Brian had managed to talk the girl at the City Hall into fudging up the dates on the paperwork a little bit so that their license would be good in two days time.

Two days and she'd be married to Brian Littrell. The thought sent shivers down Emma's spine. She'd waited for that day for twenty years.

She lowered herself onto the bed and kicked off her shoes, rubbing her feet, gently massaging the arches. She glanced at the clock - the food was going to be 40 minutes, plus Brian would have to drive back to the hotel, so she figured she'd have time for a quick shower. She stood up and pulled the white blouse off carefully and hung it up in the tiny closet, and did the same with the new jeans Brian had bought. She wanted to keep that outfit nice for the day they went back to City Hall. She tossed her hat onto the chair and headed for the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she studied her frame in the mirror. She'd lost a considerable amount of weight even since the last time she'd gone shopping for new lingerie. Her bra, even on it's tightest hook, was loose and she frowned at the pronounced shape of her hip bones protruding from her sides. She felt like she was an Ethiopian child on one of those Save the Children ads.

Save the Emmas, she thought to herself.

Shedding her underpants and bra, she reached for the water faucet and quickly ducked into the shower, humming to herself as she soaped up and the room filled with the minty smell of the hotel-provided body wash. The water felt so good, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, and felt as though she could have fallen asleep right there in the shower, standing up, with the warm bullets of water pelting her back. After along time allowing the water to strike her skin, she turned the water off and patted herself dry. She looked in the mirror at her scalp. A fuzzy layer of dark hair -like a five o'clock shadow- had begun to surface on her head an she ran her fingers over it softly. She pulled her underpants back on and refastened her bra and looked around before she realized she didn't have any other clothes in the room with her. They were hanging in the tiny closet.

She pulled the bathroom door open and walked out into the room to grab her stuff from the closet.

The smell of Chinese didn't hit her nose until she'd already rounded the corner in just her lingerie. Emma froze in place, a deer in headlights, and her heart rate quadrupled in speed. Brian was half bent over the table, the take out cartons of Chinese spread all over the table he'd dragged up to the end of the bed. Brian looked up and his eyes fell on her body, and his jaw dropped. He stood up right, dropping a bag of egg rolls onto the table, his eyes glued to her.

Emma flushed, "I'm sorry I didn't know you were back, I just was getting my clothes and -"

Brian's eyes met hers.

She turned, her hands shaking with embarassment, and grabbed her sweater and old jeans. She dropped the pants to the floor and went to pick them up, but Brian swooped over and down and got them before she did. He rose from the ground, staring into her eyes, and stepped closer, holding out her jeans. A lump rose in her throat. His arm moved to hand the pants to her, and she was about to take them, when he suddenly threw them to one side, stepped closer, and put his hands on the small of her back, pulling her into him. The full length of Emma's body pressed against his, and he leaned closer, pressing his mouth into hers.

Emma gasped into his mouth as he kissed her, his hands sliding down over the curve of her bottom and pulling her up, closer into him. He tasted like the spearmint gum he'd been chewing moments before, and Emma's hands moved to the sides of his face. He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he turned them, moving quickly and tumbling onto the queen-sized bed.

"Oh," Emma groaned as Brian's mouth slid from her mouth to her jaw to her neck and her collar bone. She reached for the hem of his polo shirt and pulled it up over his head. He paused in kissking her skin only long enough to duck out of the shirt. She had no idea where the shirt landed when she threw it - by that time Brian's mouth was on the orb of her chest, and his hands were moving up and down her sides in a rhythmic pattern. She reached for the button of his jeans and he wriggled out of them, scooping her body up and moving them further onto the bed.

Every touch of his skin on hers was electric and Emma's mind spun out of control, trying to comprehend what was happening. It all seemed so impossible that Brian was here, so close to her, so adamently tasting her skin. She ran her fingers down his spine and clutched his shoulders as he slid his hands behind her back and unlatched the bra. Emma's back arched as his mouth came in contact with her chest and she moaned loudly. "Oh shit," she murmured.

Brian couldn't believe how alive she felt under his touch, how strong the electricity there was. Every move he made, every brush of the skin, elicited such a response from her that he felt almost god-like, like Zeus or Midas and he relished the power that seemed to reside in his fingertips, in his lips. He liked the soft, soapy taste of her skin and the silky smoothness of it. Emma had never disappeared from his memory, as much as he'd tried to forget her over the years, and the excitement and chemistry of their connection was rushing back into the forefront of his mind.

He could remember worshipping the girl. He could remember being unable to imagine a life without her in it. It was like a flood of memory, a revival of unrelinquished feelings and loose ends. She'd set fire to him by standing there - a vision that he'd imagined since he was young but had never seen. Even the night they'd made love in the back of the truck, it'd been dark and he hadn't really seen her body...

Brian hovered over her, their eyes meeting and he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers and slid inside her. She gasped into the kiss and he gently rocked against her, his hands cupping her head beneath the pillow protectively. He disengaged the kiss and watched her face, the curves of her mouth, the fluttering of her eyelids, as he moved rhythmically. She kept her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands clutched his biceps.

"Brian," she moaned, biting her lip.

He kissed her neck.

By the time they'd finished, she was panting and flushed and his forehead was a sheen of sweat. He collapsed beside her and she curled into him, her arms wrapping around his chest and clinging to him, one leg wrapped around his hips. She kissed his chin, his nose, his forehead excitedly. The smell of the cooling Chinese food wafting over them, forgotten, as they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter Thirty-Five

For the first time in a long time, Brian dreamt of Leighanne.

In the dream, they were sitting in one of the Mad Hatter's Teacups at Disney World and Brian was clutching the spinning handle in the middle for dear life, even though the ride wasn't actually moving. Leighanne was sitting across from him, wearing a navy blue dress with white polka dots on it, her long blonde hair tied up in a red kerchief. She smiled at him serenely and he felt a flood of guilt fill his senses.

"I cheated on you," he said to her.

Leighanne laughed, "You didn't cheat on me."

"I did so," Brian said, "I cheated on you. I slept with another woman."

"You slept with Emma," Leighanne said, nodding, "I know."

"No I mean just now," he said. "Just before I came here to see you, I slept with her. We're getting married." His knuckles were white from clutching the steering handle.

"I know, Brian," Leighanne said quietly. She reached over and touched his hand, "I'm so happy for you," she said, "I'm happy that you've found someone who loves you and wants to be with you." Her voice was gentle.

Brian's eyes welled up, "I don't need anyone else... I have you."

"You had me," Leighanne corrected, "You don't have me anymore."

Brian gritted his teeth, the tears spilling over his eyelids. Breathing became a big more ragged, harder to get a full breath. He shook his head, "I don't want anyone but you. Can't you just... come back? Can't we just stay here, like this?"

"But you hate the tea cups," Leighanne pointed out.

"I hate most things that spin," Brian answered.

"Brian, do you remember the day we talked about the wills, about what we would do if one or both of us died?" Leighanne asked.

Brian nodded.

"Do you remember what I told you that day?"

He nodded.

"You deserve love, Brian... you deserve the best a woman has to offer and more. Don't settle for less, don't sell yourself short, waiting for something that's not there anymore. You deserve better than that."

He stared at his fingers. "But I'm afaid," he whispered, "I'm afraid to lose you. I'm afraid that you'll be gone forever."

"You can let go, Brian," Leighanne answered.

He looked at his hands. "You know I hate this ride," he argued.

"Brian," she persisted, "It's over. You can let go."

He clung tighter.

"Brian, let go."

Her voice echoed... over and over again... and suddenly he was falling backwards, through black space and with a snap ---

Brian sat up in the dark hotel room. His quick motion rolled Emma over, but she slept heavily enough that she didn't wake up. He gasped into the night, his heart racing, and glanced at the alarm clock. It was eleven o'clock. The Chinese take out boxes seemed to glow in the pale lunar light that was filtered by thin white hotel room curtains. He looked down at Emma, her pale, smooth stomach and the curve of her breasts. Her head was nestled gently in the pillow, one hand resting on her hip, the other stretched up under the pillow.

He felt a lump rise up his throat, and his stomach clench and knew he was about to throw up.

Kneeling on the tile in the bathroom, Brian retched over the toilet for what felt like a decade before he felt he'd been run over by a Mack Truck. He flushed the toilet and rolled to sit, leaning against the bathtub, and slouched until he was almost laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the cold tile on the backside of his body. He groaned. The headache that was coming on was a killer, and he closed his eyes tightly.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up. Emma was standing in the door way, clutching a hotel robe closed around her body. He'd pulled on his boxers on the way into the bathroom, and was glad he had. He let out a low, shudder of a breath, and nodded shakily.

Emma came into the bathroom and sat down beside him, mimicking his posture. Her hand searched for his and she entwined her fingers into his. "Talk to me," she whispered.

"Do you shave your knees?" he asked.

Emma paused. This was a weird question, she thought. She shrugged. "I guess so."

"We were doing a video shoot, for our song As Long As You Love Me, and Nick and I were fooling around trying to hang up a basket ball hoop on the set. We'd comandeered this ladder and I was up on the ladder trying to hang the thing up and these girls - these extras for the set - they walked in... And there was this one girl, and I thought she was amazing and I scrambled down the ladder and I told Nick so, and he told me to go for it, but I felt really shy..." Brian was staring at the little bumps in the ceiling tiles. "So Nick gives me this pep talk and finally I decided to go over and talk to the girl. So I wander over and she has this amazing brown skirt on and a blouse and she's talking to another girl, sitting on this couch and I stand there all stupid-like in front of her, and she finally notices me there and she looks at me and shes like, 'What?', you know because I'm standing there and it's awkward... So I tried to tell her she was beautiful, tried to find some specific feature to compliment on her, tried to get out that I thought she was a goddess, and my eyes landed on her knees and she had like this sheen of peach fuzz on them because she had blonde hair and it was nearly invisible... So in my stammering, blubbering mess of noise, I manage to squeak out, 'Oh my gosh, you're knees are so hairy!'"

Emma choked back a laugh. "Oh my God," she gasped, "You didn't!"

"Uh huh," Brian nodded, "I did."

Emma busted out laughing. "That's too funny," she said, "Oh my gosh. What'd she do?"

Brian laughed, "Well," he said, "She went to her hotel and shaved her knees and came back that afternoon and showed me and I asked her out and we went out and one day, when I was coming out of anestesia..." he smiled sadly, "I asked her to marry me."

"That's how you met Leighanne?" Emma asked, blown away. Yet another thing she could uncheck and remove from their Check List of Perfect Couples in her head. She studied Brian for a long moment, and realized that he hadn't had it perfect, either, out there in the world without her. She looked away as he glanced at her.

"I had a weird dream," he muttered.

"A weird dream?"

"Yeah..." he moved his hand and grabbed onto hers. His eyes slid shut.

Emma turned to look at him again, "What about?"

"The Mad Hatter's Teacup ride at Disney World."

Emma blinked in confusion. She'd been expecting some nightmarish response. "The teacup ride?"

Brian nodded. "It was haunted," he added, "'Cos I was talkin' to a ghost."

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Think it's still good?" Brian peered into the open Chinese cartons curiously. He picked up a chopstick and poked an egg foo yung. He looked up at Emma.

She shrugged from the bed, where she'd perched. They were both in undergarments only now, having felt weird getting fully dressed or staying naked, and having no pajamas really made a middle ground impossible. But it was okay - Emma was enjoying the view of Brian hovering over soggy Chinese food in boxers with cartoon characters all over them. Where exactly, she wondered, did one find boxers with Spongebob Squarepants' pants printed on them in grown up sizes?

"I dunno Bonnie," Brian drawled in his best impression of Clyde's voice, "It looks kind of suspect to me." He was quoting a Bonnie and Clyde play they'd performed in together. Well, sort of. They'd been the understudies for Bonnie and Clyde, mostly they'd practiced on each other and that was about it until the girl playing Bonnie - a leggy blonde cheerleader - had broken her ankle during a pep rally and Emma had to step up.

Emma laughed, "It's been sitting there awhile," she said sadly. "I'm sorry," she added, "You probably spent a fortune on all this food."

"And there's starving children in Africa!" Brian wailed in yet another impression - this one of his mother. He realized suddenly in some subconscious part of him, that he hadn't done impressions in a really long time - his heart had been too weighed down. He smiled and jumped up onto the bed and crawled across the mattress to her. Emma fell back onto the pillow as he leaned over her like he was doing a push-up around her and lowered himself to kiss her nose. "It was completely worth it," he whispered.

"Drop and give me twenty, soldier," Emma giggled. Brian did a couple quick push-ups, kissing her nose on each descent, making her giggle harder. She smiled up at him when he stopped, and he rolled away and sat up.

"I'm hungry, though," he confessed.

"Vending machine?" Emma asked.

"There's gotta be something open still," Brian mused. He jumped up and went to the desk and took his phone up. Emma sat up and watched him in the blueish glare from the phone. "No clubs though, some place quiet..."

Emma hugged her knees. "Is there an IHOP around?"

"IHOP!" Brian cried out, his eyes brightening, "Yeah there is! Donnie and fellas and I went there when we were here on the tour." His fingers flew over the screen of the phone until he'd found it and tapped in a request for directions from the hotel. He looked up, grinning. "Let's go."

"Whoa, hold up there," Emma laughed, "Unless you want to go in your knickers we gotta get dressed."

Brian looked down, then scanned her. "Oh yeah," he laughed. "Although you eating pancakes like that wouldn't be so bad..." he winked.

Emma smirked, "You're a dirty old man, Littrell," she accused. But while she got dressed, Emma couldn't help but wonder what the hell had gotten into him, though. Twenty-four hours before, he'd been sullen and moody and had been negotiated into this arrangement. Now, the way he was acting, Emma could almost imagine that this was twenty years ago, that this was how it was supposed to turn out.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were walking down the sidewalk, past the traffic and the lights. Music spilled out of random windows, a mixture of every genre. Emma could completely understand the term music city being used for this place - it seemed to throb with a heart beat of song. Brian clasped her hand as they crossed a main intersection and forgot to let go. Girls in spikey heels past them, glancing twice at Brian, then looking Emma over in an appraising sort of way, as though wondering how someone like her was holding the hand of someone like him. Emma clung to his hand tighter.

When they finally arrived at IHOP, the neon flourescence poured into the parking lot they were crossing through tall, wide windows and Emma could smell the pancakes and maple syrup even from where they stood. They trotted across the lot and Brian started naming all the things he was going to order, "Croissants, coffee, orange juice, sausages, bacon, hash brown, curly fries, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, western omlet..."

Emma laughed, "You're ambitous."

"I'm starving," he corrected.

They opened the doors and went inside the little restaurant and the strength of the pancake smell quadrupled. Brian was practically frothing at the mouth and Emma laughed at the look of longing he gave a seven year old with a plate of strawberry pancakes. He bent low in her ear as a hostess approached and whispered suggestively, "Maybe I'll get some of those strawberries to go..."

Emma felt a tingle of adrenaline shoot through her body.

"How are we tonight?" asked the hostess as she reached them. She picked up two menus and two sets of silverware from the station by the door. She smiled, "Two?"

Brian looked around himself, "Well by jimminey, yes."

The hostess nodded, and mumbled, "Okay, right this way."

Brian shrugged at Emma and they followed along behind her to a booth by a window and she put the silverware packs onto the table and dropped the menus. She motioned for them to get into the booth, so they did - the leather squelching under their bottoms as they went. Brian started to giggle, but the hostess didn't look amused, so he stopped abruptly. "Your waitress will be Katie and she'll be along shortly." The hostess disappeared.

"Well she was a treat," Brian commented.

Emma laughed, "She probably didn't know how to handle your enthusiasm."

"I'm not sure I do," Brian replied.

Emma was about to respond when a squeak at their side made them both look up, just as their waitress dropped the stein of coffee she was carrying. Brian made a quick lunge for it, and caught it before it hit the floor, but a good quantity of it had spilled onto the floor. He put the stein down on the table. "Oh my God," stammered the waitress, whose name tag did indeed read Katie, "You're - you're - Brian Littrell."

Brian nodded, "All my life that's what they've told me." He smiled.

"Oh my God," the girl stammered. She looked down at the floor, at the coffee everywhere, "Oh God," she added, less enthusiastic this time. "I'm such a klutz."

Brian looked down at the floor, "Got a straw?" he joked. Both Emma and Katie cracked up at the quip. He smiled, pleased with the boisterous reaction he'd gotten. He'd forgotten the rush he used to get when people laughed at things he said, when they smiled about things he did. He forgot about the excitement of meeting a fan, of getting to make their dreams come true simply by existing.

"I need to get a mop, I'll be right back. I'm so sorry." Katie rushed away, flushed and starry-eyed.

Brian looked at Emma, "I think she may be a fan," he said.

Emma smiled, "She may be."

"She seemed sane enough, though," he added, "I don't think you've got anything too much to worry about."

"What?" Emma asked, "What do you mean I don't have anything too much to worry about? What would I worry about?"

"I don't know - rumors or something," Brian answered, "Pictures on the web."

"Why would they put pictures of me on the web?" Emma asked. She instinctively reached for her fishing hat and pulled it closer to her head, curling the back flap around the nape of her neck. "I'm not interesting."

"Because you're with me," Brian replied, "We're here together, the fans go nuts over that type stuff. G'Lord there's probably a million pictures of me and ---" he stopped mid-sentence, then reconstructed it, "Fans take pictures of us with our friends and family everywhere," he said. "Airports, malls, restraurants..."

Emma felt herself slink lower in her seat, as though she could make herself invisible. Luckily, Katie returned at that moment with the mop and Brian didn't get a chance to go any further into detail about the fans and their photography habits.

*****
Brian had ended up signing about thirty autographs before they left IHOP and every time someone approached him to ask for one, Emma had prayed they hadn't been taking pictures of them at the table before they'd come over. She picked at her blueberry pancakes, but was feeling far too nervous to actually eat. She sipped her cranberry juice and scanned the dining area for evidence that her photograph was being taken and posted on fan sites instead.

"Good Lord that felt good," Brian said into the cool, dark air as they walked back to the hotel. They were strolling now, the need to arrive less urgent than it had been several hours before. "I didn't realize how much I missed that."

How anyone could miss being interrupted every five seconds at dinner was beyond Emma's comprehension, but to each their own, she supposed.

Brian laughed, "This one time in Rio," he said, "We were driving on this bus and like half the city mobbed it. The bus couldn't even drive smoothly, there were so many people around it, like running after it and pressing against it, and we were really scared the bus was going to end up tipped over because they were all climbing on it and banging on it and stuff... Then we get to the hotel and it turns out the door of the hotel's on the left of the bus and the door of the bus is on the right of it, and we had to cut through the crowd to get into the hotel... I was so fricking terrified," he shook his head, "There was a final head count over 10,000 in the street that night."

Emma's eyes widened, "Ten thousand people?"

"Mmhm," Brian nodded. "All crammed into this little street in Rio, around our hotel. We did a performance from the hotel roof. It was killer."

Emma was at a loss for words. "I know stuff like that happens for like Bono and Michael Jackson," she stammered, "I didn't know --"

Brian smiled. "There was a time it did here, too, but it was rather brief. I mean we still can't go to South America without it happening. South America is intense. So is Japan."

Emma hadn't really thought about the whole Backstreet Boy thing, not really. She knew the phenomenon more as the time when she couldn't get away from Brian Littrell's face than as the Millennium craze that it had been. She'd tried to block as much of it out as she could because it hurt too much to see him and not be with him. It hurt too much to be reminded what she'd lost and why. She'd never thought about the fact that the man she was pining for wasn't just a man anymore, but was literally a pop culture icon.

"I need to talk to Nick about rejuvinating the recording thoughts again," Brian mused, "Lord I miss singing." He looked at Emma and smiled. "I miss it with the whole of my heart."

Emma smiled. "I remember when you used to just randomly belt out New Kids on the Block songs," she laughed. "And everyone thought they were my favorite band, even though they were your favorite."

Brian laughed, "Do you know the kind of crap people would've given me over that if they knew?"

"The kind I gave you, you mean?"

"Yeah!" Brian crowed. His face crumpled in a laugh, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. He took a deep breath. "Thank you."

Emma looked up, "For what?" she asked.

Brian smiled, "For making me feel like this."

"I didn't do anything."

Brian shrugged, "You're helping me to let go."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Two days had passed and Lauren still wasn't talking to Nick - but he wasn't talking to her, either. Honestly, he couldn't really remember why, only that they weren't speaking to eachother, and being a stubborn ass kept him from ending the argument. He might not remember what he was right about, but he knew for damn sure that he was right.

Conseqently, when Nick walked downstairs the morning they were expecting Brian and Emma back from Nashville and Lauren was making toast in the kitchen, he was surprised when she turned around and greeted him with a sing-songy, "Goooood morning!"

Nick leaned against the doorjamb and ran a hand through his hair, eyeing her suspiciously as she opened the fridge and pulled out butter, jam, and the orange juice that she'd bought to replace the bottle he'd finished off. She put the stuff on the counter and asked, "Toast?"

He raised an eyebrow. Clearly, the woman was up to something, and he wanted to know what.

Lauren turned around and looked at him. "Nick? Are you deaf? Toast?"

He nodded. He refused to break the code of silence. What if it was a ploy? What if it was part of her evil plot to win the argument? Seduce him with her magical delicious toast, fuck him silly, then steal the title of argument winner. He was onto her. Nick lowered himself into the nearest chair at the kitchen table, not taking his eyes off her.

The toaster popped and Lauren replaced the toast with bread and restarted it, smearing butter and blackberry jam onto the popped toast, putting it on a napkin and placing it in front of Nick. She pulled out a glass, filled it with juice, and put that by him, too. Nick stared at the food. Maybe, he thought, it was poisoned. He looked around the kitchen for the arsnic can.

"What's the matter with you?" Lauren asked over her shoulder, as she pulled another napkin from the rooster shaped holder on top of the microwave. She retrieved a second glass and filled it with orange juice, placing it on the table opposite Nick, at her place. Nick eyeballed her glass, then looked at his. He switched the glasses while her back was turned. "You aren't still angry about that stupid fight we had like three days ago, right?" she asked.

Nick hesitated. "Nawh, I ain't mad," he drawled. He sniffed the orange juice he'd taken from her place. He thought about that scene in the Princess Bride where the one guy pours poison into the cups and the other guy has to wiggle them around and figure out what one has the poison in it. That guy ended up keeling over, he remembered. Nick glanced at the juice she'd originally given him, and switched the glasses back, just as Lauren turned around with her toast.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

Nick hesitated. He looked at the glasses. "The one you gave me had a lot of pulp," he lied. "I don't like pulp."

"You love pulp, what the hell are you talking about?" Lauren sat down.

Nick decided aversion was the key out of an awkward explanation that he didn't want to go the way of Cedric the Giant or whatever that guy had been named. Inconceivable! "I thought you were mad at me," he said by way of changing the subject.

Lauren was still eyeing the juice glasses suspiciously. He felt like telling her that he hadn't poisoned it, either, but he figured that would jump right back to the Cedric the Giant topic that he'd just managed to cleverly change away from. Lauren shook her head, "I'm not mad."

"Good," Nick said. He picked up his toast and took a bite, feeling more confident that she wasn't trying to slay him. "I don't like it when you're mad."

"I'm going home tonight."

Nick choked. Toast and jam remnants fell out of his mouth and onto the chest of his Journey shirt. He swiped them away with his fingers, smearing the blackberry jam into a dark purple stain on Steve Perry's forehead. He swallowed, took a mouthful of juice to wash down what hadn't fallen out, and choked the word, "What?"

"I said I'm going home tonight," Lauren repeated, "After Brian gets back from Tennessee with Emma. I booked a flight this morning to go home to Los Angeles." She nibbled on her toast like she was a squirrel. Nick blinked in disbelief for a long moment. Finally, Lauren said, "No amount of time staring at me like that is going to make the words change, you know..."

Nick blinked and looked away, shoving more toast into his mouth. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He looked at Lauren. "Why come you're leavin' for?"

"What?"

Nick realized that the sentence had come out all wonky and said, "I mean, why're you leavin', exactly?"

Lauren shrugged, "I need to get back to work, Nick, you knew I wasn't going to stay here the entire time you were out here. I already stayed longer than I originally planned to stay."

Nick squinted at her. "Is this because we had that fight?"

"No," Lauren answered, "It's because you've been moping around like a sloppy monkey and I'm bored out of my mind. Plus I'm running low on money and all that and I really need to get back to work."

"I have money..."

"You don't have to brag."

"Well I mean, you can use my money, I don't care."

"It's your money, Nick," Lauren answered, "I don't want to use your money."

"It's our money," he answered.

Lauren shook her head, "No it isn't."

"Sure it is," Nick replied. He reached for his wallet in his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a couple credit cards. "Here." He slid them across the table.

Lauren laughed, "Nick, keep your damn credit cards. I'm just going home, okay? Relax." She stood up, her toast gone, and put the orange juice and butter back into the cupboard.

"But I'll miss you," Nick whined, "I don't want you to go away. I'm willing to like pay you to stay here, basically."

"Great, so I'm a hooker?" Lauren grabbed the sponge out of the sink.

"Noooo," Nick wailed quickly. He hadn't meant it like that. "Laurennnn," he whined, "Don't go awayyyyy."

Lauren sponged the toast crumbs up off the counter and into her hand. She threw them into the trash and tossed the sponge into the sink. She leaned over and kissed Nick's forehead, then headed for the door. As she left, though, she called over her shoulders, "You'll be fine, Nick, it's not like we're married or anything..."

Nick raised an eyebrow at the table. He heard Lauren's footsteps fading away up the stairs and he sighed. "God damn you, Brian," he muttered under his breath, "You made all the women bride-zillas."

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Emma smoothed her shirt and took a deep breath. She'd just finished touching up her make-up in the bathroom at the City Hall and was now appraising herself. She looked nervous, but that was to be expected, and other than that - well that and the bucket hat, but again that couldn't be helped either - she looked good. It felt surreal... all of it did. But surreal in a good way.

She'd been up all night making love to Brian over and over and over again until he'd finally fallen asleep in her arms, curled into her, his cheek pressed against her chest and his eyes fluttering with dreams she hoped were of her.

As she stepped into the hallway, she felt him stand up at her elbow. She turned and smiled up at him and he leaned close and kissed her forehead. "You scared?" he asked quietly.

Emma shook her head, "No."

"No?" he asked, pulling back. He looked at her curiously.

Emma shook her head, "If it was anyone but you I might be."

Brian smiled. "Plus," he said quietly, "It's not a real marriage right?"

Emma nodded, but inside she'd gone numb like someone had dumped ice water down her spine. It wasn't? She knew originally it hadn't been real, but when Brian had taken hold of her in the hotel room and made love so passionately to her - and so many times - she'd assumed that the dynamic had changed, that it had crossed the line. She suddenly felt stupid, and she looked at her toes as Brian wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Part of her wanted to push him off her, to tell him to go to Hell, and run away... but the other part of her knew that at this point that'd be silly, she really did need the insurance help, and what was so wrong with being Brian Littrell's booty call, really? She wondered if there was anything wrong with it.

Of course there is, her heart answered, Because you don't want to be a booty call, you want to be his wife.

Brian led the way to the waiting area outside the office where they'd sign the papers to finalize this thing. Emma sat down on a bench, feeling a little dizzy from the new revelation and fanned herself with her hand.

Brian paced. He was gnawing on his lip. He'd expected Emma to say that it was real when he'd said that. He hadn't expected she'd nod and agree that it wasn't real. He, too, had thought everything had changed over the past two days - he'd put so much effort into trying to make her feel it, but she'd felt nothing. He wondered if she'd really felt nothing or if she'd just acted like she felt nothing, so she could get out of talking to him about it without breaking his heart.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and felt the box. He pulled it out, his back to her, and lifted the lid, looking in at the ring. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

Emma was sucking on her lower lip when Brian suddenly spun around, dropping to his knees in front of her. He grinned up at her, with his bright blue eyes glistening. He held out his hands and set in his palm was the open ring box, the bright blue stone set in heavy stearling silver that she recognized so well. Brian's 1991 graduating class ring, with the music note on the left of the stone and the baseball on the right. She felt a lump grow in her throat.

"I know it's not a lot," he said, "And it's not a diamond but -" he paused, "This seemed more appropriate. Considering everything."

Emma's eyes filled with tears. "It's perfect," she whispered.

Brian moved to sit on the bench beside her as she took the ring box from his hand and pulled out the ring. Brian had gotten it polished and bought a chain for it to hang on and she slid it around her neck. It settled against her chest, low enough she could hold it and look at it, but not too long to be annoying. She wrapped her hand around it and looked up at him.

"It looks good," he said.

Emma gathered up her fears and opened her mouth to ask him if it would be so horrible if it was a real marriage... when the door to the office suddenly opened and a short, pear-shaped man came out and glanced around. "Brian and Emma?" he called.

"That'd be us," Brian said, turning away from Emma.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and followed as Brian stood up and led the way into the little office beyond. It was decorated in mostly dark green and brown and Emma felt a bit intimidated by it. The walls were covered with book shelves with heavy books about law filling them. She reached for Brian's hand and he grave hers a squeeze.

A few short words and they'd be married. Whether it was "real" or not, Emma still couldn't help feeling like she was quite possibly the luckiest woman in the entire world.

*****
Nick and Baylee were playing football in the yard in the dying evening light when Brian's truck rumbled into the yard. Nick had just released the ball and Baylee charged away from the game to meet the car, abandoning the ball to go sailing into a bush. Nick trotted after it while Baylee ran toward the truck.

Brian slid out of the truck just as Baylee reached him. "Where were you?" Baylee demanded without so much as a hi for a precursor. Across the yard, Nick tucked the football under his arm and started over to the truck himself.

"I was in Nashville," Brian replied. He pulled a small bag from the dashboard and handed it to Baylee. Inside was a ton of hard candies from a general store he and Emma had stopped in on their way home. "I stole a root beer barrell on the way home," Brian confessed.

"What's in Nashville?" Baylee asked, pawing through the bag.

"Just some work I had to take care of," Brian answered.

Nick was staring at Brian, his eyes squinted.

"Work?" Baylee asked. "That cancer girl wasn't there, was she?"

Brian sighed, "Don't call her Cancer Girl, buddy," he said. "Her name is Emma."

Baylee turned and headed inside quickly before either Nick or Brian could stop him.

The moment the front door closed, Nick turned back to Brian. "You got laid."

Brian blinked in surprise. "What? How the hell do you know that?"

"Because you're happy," Nick said, "You're glowing. You had sex with the Cancer Chick."

"So you're where he learned that phrase," Brian said in an amused, accusing sort of way.

"Dude, you so had sex."

"So?"

Nick grinned, pleased with himself for having been right. "Ah Brian, I knew getting you laid would help." He patted Brian's back as Bri grabbed the shopping bag of dirty clothes out of the front seat and slammed the car door shut. Nick paused. "So...er... did you - you know, did you get --...?"

Brian nodded, "Yeah I did it."

"Already dropped her off, huh?" Nick asked.

"Yep. I told you, Nick," Brian said, "It's not a real marriage."

"Uh huh. But you got laid."

"Yeah."

"By your wife I presume."

Brian felt a fissure run through his heart, and his felt droopd for but a split second. Nick's eyes lit up - he'd noticed. Brian quickly started for the door.

Nick trotted alongside him. "Hold up, hold up," Nick chanted, "Wait. It isn't more than just the insurance bit-thingy right?" he asked, "I mean... yanno, you're still just there for that, right? It's not like more, right?"

"No," Brian said, "It's not more."

"Then what was that face about."

"What face?"

"This face." Nick imitated Brian's expression. "What was that about?"

Brian hesitated.

"Oh shit," Nick muttered. "You want more...but she doesn't?"

Brian had to hand it to Nick... as much of a stubborn dumbass as he could be, he wasn't terrible on the upbring in such conversations. It could only leave Brian to wonder how it was that Nick always managed to fuck up his own relationships when he could so easily read everyone elses. "It doesn't matter," Brian said, "She doesn't want more than this."

"Chicks always want more," Nick answered, thinking of Lauren inside packing her crap up to go back to Los Angeles.

"Not this one," Brian answered.

"I'll trade'ja," Nick muttered.

Brian studied Nick for a long moment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Lauren's bringing up the M-word," Nick answered. "And yeah, thanks for that Mr. Romantic."

"How is this my fault?" Brian asked.

"Cos Emma and that Molly chick have been talking a lot since you've been gone and it's usually on the topic of you and Emma and how great ya'll are and I think Lauren decided she wants to get married. She's never brought marriage up before. I blame you."

Brian laughed, "Well you have been together forever," he pointed out.

Nick shook his head, "Oh hell nawh," he said, "You can stop right there. You know me. I ain't never gettin' married." Nick shook his head. "Never."

Brian shrugged and pushed open the front door.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick demanded, following him into the house.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Okay, tell me again - exactly what happened?"

Nick looked up from the table top, where he'd rested his cheek. Brian uncapped a beer and put it at his hand. He'd been laying there mumbling and moaning after bursting through the door and hurriedly announcing that Lauren had just broken up with him. Now, he was in the wallowing stages. He grabbed his beer and chugged it. When he drew it away from his mouth, it foamed and he quickly inhaled the foam from the bottle neck. "She dumped my ass and left the pieces of my broken heart scattered on the floor..."

Brian sat down across from Nick with his own beer. Normally, they would've been outside under the stars on the deck, but the air had grown chilly. Brian took a pull off his beer. "But what happened? What did she say? What did you say?"

Nick swirled his beer around a little. "Well I carried her bags into the airport for her and we were by gate security and I was saying bye and went to kiss her and she pulled back and she looked at me in the face, you know? With those big green eyes..." Nick sighed, "I love her eyes, man."

"I know. Keep going."

"Well then she was like asking me if I ever planned to get married to her or if our relationship was just like going nowhere and we'd reached the peak, you know? And I told her that I don't really believe in marriage. You know how I feel about marriage."

"Uh huh..." Brian's eyebrow was raised. "And then?"

"Well then she said that she didn't want to be in a relationship that wasn't going anywhere, and she brought up..." Nick took a deep breath, then said slowly on the exhale, "She mentioned children."

Brian bit his lip.

"And I said I'd gladly have kids --"

"Did you say kids or sex?"

Nick paused. "Okay so I said that sounded fun and I was definitely up for the sex. But that's besides the point. Anyways, she got pissed and said that I needed to grow up and realize that she wasn't gonna just be here and that I took her for granted and never listen to her and yadda-yadda-shit-like-that."

Brian stared into the beer. "Then what?"

"I dunno, then she said good-bye, hugged me, and told me to call her. Then she got on the plane." Nick shook his head, "She totally broke up with me."

"It sounds like she wants you to commit to her," Brian pointed out.

"Marriage is shit," Nick replied quickly, "More people divorce than get married, seriously."

"That's physically impossible, Nick," Brian said, "You have to be married to get a divorce. If more people had divorces than got married nobody would be married at all and there'd be people that had never been married that had gotten divorced."

Nick rubbed his nose. "Shut up, you know what I mean."

"I think you're chicken shit," Brian said, swallowing beer.

Nick raised an eyebrow, "You wanna talk about chicken shit, let's talk about you. Dude, you just married a woman -speaking of marriage- and you don't even have the balls to tell her you love her. What the hell is that about?"

Brian picked at the label on his beer bottle. "She doesn't feel the same way, Nick, it's not like I don't want to tell her it's just I already know she's going to be like 'oh you're so sweet but yeah no'."

"Chicken shit."

Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair as Nick took a sip of his beer. "I guess we're both just a couple of chicken shits then," Brian muttered, looking up at the light on the ceiling.

"Yep."

Brian looked at Nick thoughtfully for a long moment. He sat up. He reached across the table and took Nick's beer away from him. "Nick?"

"What? Gimme my beer back, you bastard." Nick reached for the beer.

Brian held it out of Nick's reach. "Listen to me...and listen good, 'cos this is important, ok?"

"Um... ok."

"Twenty years ago, I fell in love with Emma and I threw it away... and then eleven years ago, I fell in love with Leighanne and it got taken away." Brian took a deep breath, "And now... now I can't love either of them because they're either gone... or they just don't feel the way that I do anymore. And I miss that. I yearn for that feeling, that feeling of being loved and cherished and cared about like every man needs to be.... Love isn't something you get do-overs in, Nick. Don't throw away what you have with Lauren because you're chicken shit to get a divorce. What's so scary about a divorce? Really? I mean, so you try and you fuck up and you end up signing papers to undo it if it's a mistake. But Nick, what if it's a mistake to not get married? What if it's a mistake to let her walk out of your life?"

Nick was chewing the inside of his lip.

"What if you were taking her for granted and she's the most important thing in your life? What happens when you figure out that she was not only the woman who loved you but your only source of oxygen or joy? What if when she's gone you feel your heart crushing itself within you?"

Nick's eyes met Brian's. "Are you describing how I could feel or how you do feel?"

"Both, if you lose Lauren," Brian replied.

Nick drew a deep breath and released it. It came out shaking. He stared at his hands.

Brian put the beer back down on the table, "Now, you can finish that beer up, or you can get in the car and go to the airport and get your ass on a plane and fix this before it's too late and you're standing in a kitchen, twenty years later, drinking beer, and realizing that she is everything - everything - you need... and that you can't ever have her."

Chapter Forty

Emma was sitting in the outpatient chemo clinic, reading a magazine while the chemicals poured into her blood stream. Sometimes in this outpatient clinic, she couldn't help but think about those ladies that sit in hair stylist salons and gossip with their hair in rollers and space-alien looking drying contraptions. It felt eerily similar, until she looked up and met the eyes of another one of the people who were further deteriorated than she was thanks to their disease, whose lips were chapped and eyes were sunken in. She tried not to look up, though. The hair salon thought was much more comforting than the truth. She stared at the page intently.

Molly suddenly appeared at Emma's side, dressed in her work clothes, and handed Emma a bottle of vitamin water - the dark pink kind, which was Emma's favorite. She pulled up a chair from the wall and sat down, facing Emma and twisted the cap off her own bottle of water. "How're you holding up?" she asked. She'd come to pick up Emma when the treatment session was done.

"I'm okay..." Emma answered. She unscrewed the cap. "I'm a little nauseated, but not too bad I guess, considering."

"I'm glad you decided to do this," Molly said, motioning to the bag hanging from the IV pole at Emma's side.

Emma glanced up at it. "I wish I could say the same, but right now I'm pretty bored and my ass feels like it has blisters from being used for so long." She laughed.

"Well blisters or no blisters, I'm glad." Molly studied Emma while she stared down at the label on the vitamin water. After a moment, Molly reached over and lifted the ring from the end of the chain around Emma's neck. She studied it a moment. "This is Brian's," she said.

Emma's eyes locked with Molly's. "He gave it to me," she said, "In Nashville."

"As a wedding ring?" Molly asked.

Emma shrugged, "I guess. I mean, not really because it's not a real marriage, like he so casually reminded me like thirty seconds before he gave it to me..."

Molly stared at the ring. "Are you sure he wasn't asking if it was a real marriage?"

"No, he was definitely saying it wasn't," Emma answered, shaking her head.

Molly shrugged, "It just seems like a big gesture for something trivial," she said, dropping the ring. It landed on Emma's chest, heavy and cold, and she instinctively reached up and wrapped her hand around it. "Why would he bother with a ring at all if he didn't want it to be real?"

"Because he's Brian," Emma said. "And it's not like he went out and spent a lot of money on it, he already had it."

"But Emma, that's his high school ring," Molly said.

"I know," Emma answered.

"Jake never even gave me his ring," Molly said. She paused. "And just for the record, a lot of Jake's statements are questions. Boys are stupid, don't forget. They say things in statements that they mean as questions because they want you to correct them so they don't sound dumb expecting more than you do."

Emma frowned, "I really, really wish it was like that, Molls..." she looked up. "But it's not."

"Lauren thinks it is."

"Who is Lauren?"

"Nick's girlfriend."

"Nick... Carter?" Emma blinked in surprise. "How - what - why were you talking to Nick Carter's girlfriend?"

Molly shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Moll..."

"I called Nick when you went MIA on us," Molly replied after a couple beats. "I wanted to see if you'd gone there with Brian, and Nick said you weren't there but that he'd call me when he found out what was going on and Lauren called me and Lauren told me what she knew and we got together and voila. She thinks Brian's in love with you still."

"That's crazy. He's in love with Leighanne. You know he told me one of the nights we were gone about how they met?"

Molly shrugged, "I don't know Em."

"Brian's over me," Emma answered, "He's been over me since the moment Kevin called Tate's High in '93 and told him there was an opening in the band. He's over me. He's just doing this because he feels guilty about leaving back the way that he did. He feels guilty and that's why he gave me a ring." Molly sighed. The IV machine beeped beside Emma and she looked up. The chemo bag was empty. A moment later a nurse appeared and started unhooking Emma's IV.

*****
Lauren was in the bath tub, neck-deep in bubbles, Igby laying on a towel in front of the sink basin, when she heard the door downstairs slam. She sat up. Igby's ears seemed to stretch even higher into the air than they normally did. Bubbles slid across her skin as she stood up and grabbed a towel from the hook. Igby stood up and started barking. Lauren could feel her heart pounding.

Pulling on a robe, she tied the waist band tight and opened the door. Igby went rushing down the stairs. "Igby!" she hissed, but he was long gone. She imagined a robber-slash-attacker sneaking into the house and a rush of fear for Igby went through her senses. She looked around for a weapon of some sort, but only found her hair dryer. Deciding that was good enough, she rolled the cord around her arm and held it in front of her like a gun before slowly descending the stairs, dripping bubbles along behind her as she went.

She could hear Igby's claws ticking on the wood floor in the dining room and she took a deep breath, held her hair dryer high, and stepped into the dark room. The shadow of the intruder was a couple feet away and she swung the dryer ferociously. A muffled umph! followed the swing as she caught the intruder in the face.

"Ow, God, what the hell?"

"Nick?" Lauren gasped. She reached for the light switch by the door. "What the -- Oh shit." Blood had exploded from his nose and down onto his chest. His hands were covering his nose and his eyes were squeezed shut. "Oh my God, I'm sorry Nick, I thought you were an intruder..."

"An intruder with the keys to the front door?" Nick asked. His voice sounded pinched.

"I don't know, I didn't think about that." Igby's tail was wagging excitedly from the doorway, where he watched the two of them like a tennis match, his head bobbing one way, then the other.

Nick's eyes were bloodshot and a bruise was already travelling up into his eye sockets. He looked at the hair dryer, "Really? That's your weapon against intruders?"

"I was in the bath, what did you expect me to bring?"

"Something that could do actual damage?"

"Well obviously I did - either that or you're just randomly bleeding from the face for no reason."

"Well it's not like I was armed," Nick said, "If I was an intruder, you never would've got near me with that thing."

"Yeah I would've," Lauren argued.

"Besides, you just got lucky," he added.

"Yeah I got lucky and that's why your honkers broken." Lauren's face paled, "Oh my God, it's not broken is it?"

"I dunno," Nick admitted, "It hurts like a son of a bitch."

Lauren dropped the dryer, "C'mon." She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen and pushed him into a chair, pulling his head back. "Stay like that," she commanded, "And pinch the bridge, that'll help stop the bleeding."

"But now bloods gonna go down my throat or something."

"No it isn't," Lauren answered.

"Yeah huh, I'm like a cannibal. Or a vampire."

"You don't sparkle."

"Yeah well."

Lauren ran the sink water until it was warm and wet a paper towel. She pulled a chair up beside him and gently started washing blood off his face. Nick winced when she touched his nose. She inspected it gently, fingers barely grazing it. "It doesn't look broken," she said softly.

"Good, I don't wanna look like Owen Wilson, you know?" Nick said.

"You won't look like Owen Wilson."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

Nick sat still while Lauren wiped gently. When she'd finished, she went to stand up, but he grabbed her wrist, "Wait," he said.

Lauren lowered back into the seat, "What?"

Nick righted himself, and felt a little dizzy for a moment. He blinked, "Whoa, trippy." Lauren went to stand up again, but again he caught her wrist. "Wait a second," he said, "Just wait." He stared at her for a long moment.

"Nick, seriously, I have a wet, bloody paper towel in my hand, can't I just throw it away?"

He let go of her wrist and she stood up and went over to the trash barrel. When she turned around, he'd moved from the chair to the floor. He was on his knees - both of them - like he was praying or begging. She stopped short.

"What the hell are you doing?" her voice shook.

Nick reached into his pocket. He pulled out one of those plastic bubbles from the 50-cent prize machines out front of Walmart - or in this case, it'd been in the hall at LAX. He popped the bubble open and looked at the plastic peace-sign ring it held. "I know this is a piece of crap," he said quietly, "But... everything nice was closed and I couldn't wait." He looked at the ring, turning it over in his palm. "It's a piece of crap just like I am..." he looked up at her, "I know I treat you bad, and I know I'm a pain in your ass..." he sighed, "I take you for granted, like you said, you're right. But I love you, and I wanna be a pain in your ass for the rest of your life... I want to be your piece of crap. And I just wanna know if you'll put up with me long enough for us to get old together and stuff?"

Lauren stared at the ring as he held it out.

"What are you saying right now, Nick?" she asked, breathless.

"Lauren... will you, like, you know... marry me and stuff?"

Tears filled her eyes. "You are such an ass," she whispered, voice trembling.

"Is that a yes?" Nick asked.

Lauren slid to her knees, too, and took the ring from his hand, slipping it onto her finger. "Yes," she said, "Of course it is."

Chapter Forty-One

Brian was asleep on the couch. He'd been watching a show on Country Music Television about Johnny Cash when he'd fallen asleep. The phone rang, waking him up. He felt disoriented. The remote control was just past his finger tips on the floor, and a line of drool hung from him mouth to the pillow. He groggily gathered his thoughts as the telephone pierced the night. He reached for the phone, his heart rate climbing. Last time he'd answered the phone at this hour after falling asleep watching TV....

"Hmm?" he mumbled into the phone.

"I did it."

"Hmm?"

Nick's voice was hushed, but jubliant. "I. Did. It."

"Why are you calling me to tell me you had sex?" Brian muttered.

"Nooo, not that," Nick laughed, "But that is coming up. No I mean I did it -- it Brian, it. I asked Laur to marry me."

Brian sat up. He looked at the clock. Surely he was dreaming right now. He had to be. "You what?"

"I asked Lauren to marry me."

"But you didn't go get a ring yet."

"I got one out of a vending machine at LAX - I couldn't wait. We're gonna go tomorrow and get the ring. She'll pick out one she likes better then I couldda anyways."

Brian tried to imagine Nick picking out a diamond ring. He was probably right about Lauren picking her own out better than Nick could've... the image of Nick asking what carrots had to do with diamonds was just too vivid. "Congratulations," Brian said.

"Thanks. Look, I gotta go, she's almost ready and - well, I don't wanna keep her waiting ya'know, but I just wanted to tell you something."

"What's that?"

"If I can do it, you can do it. Grow a pair. Night, Frick." And with that, Nick hung up the phone.

Brian sat a bit dumbstruck for a moment, then put the receiver back on the dock and laid down into the cushions of the sofa with a groan. He stared up at the ceiling. Nick -- married. It was something that he'd never dreamt he'd ever see the day of. He half wanted to go outside and see if the pigs were flying yet.

*****
Two months passed. Brian hadn't heard much from Emma, other than the occassional awkward phone call letting him know that treatment had gone well and when the next cycle would be so he could plan on coming with her to fill out the insurance paperwork yet again. Brian found himself focusing on writing music again, and spent most nights up in the living room, strumming his guitar, humming tunes and writing down notes on the blank sheets he'd printed up. Baylee's attitude slowly adjusted as he realized with more and more confidence that Emma was out of their lives and pretty soon he was sitting on the floor in the living room doing homework, asking Brian for help with complex math problems, or in the kitchen while Brian cooked dinner - something he was getting etter at - working on reports.

Christmas was right around the corner and the Littrell boys were out buying a new plastic Christmas tree and lights and ornaments - Brian hadn't had the heart to bring the old ones - and Baylee squawked excitedly about the lastest gadget-majig he wanted for Christmas. Brian knew that the gadget-majig was hiding on the top shelf of his bedroom closet, right behind a box of old family photographs with Leighanne in them. He also knew that the only thing that he wanted for Christmas he'd never get.

*****
It was December 10th when Emma called to remind Brian the next day they had to go fill out paperwork for the next round of treatment and Brian was amazed how quickly the time had passed. He assured Emma that he'd meet her at the hospital the next day at one o'clock.

"Would you mind dropping me off at Molly's afterwards?" Emma asked, "Molls and Jake's anniversary is tomorrow and they wanted to take off in the morning - I mean if you can't that's okay, too..."

"No," Brian replied, "I can drop you off, no problem. I have to go by their place to pick Baylee up from school anyway, so a quick pit stop is no problem at all. Tell Molly and Jake I said happy anniversary."

"Thanks Brian," Emma said. She always fought the urge at this point of their phone calls to burst out with I love you, but she'd managed to bite her tongue thus far. It was moments like that -when she had to swallow back her feelings for him- that Emma was glad all those years she'd spent missing him he'd never returned and requested that they be friends. She'd never have been able to withstand that for so long. As it was, it was killing her, and she was avoiding him like crazy.

"Have a g'night Em," Brian said, hanging up the phone.

Emma held the receiver in her hands, her throat swelling up. It literally ached to love him so much and not be able to tell him so.

When she returned to the living room, Molly and Jake were sitting on the couch watching a movie - it sounded like Jaws - and Emma announced, "Ya'll are good to go in the morning. Brian's gonna pick me up and drop me off after we do the paperwork."

"Okay," Jake called.

Molly winced and covered her eyes, fixiated on the movie, oblivious to Emma.

"Night guys," Emma said. Jake absently waved.

Upstairs in her room, Emma lowered onto her bed with a sigh. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over her vanity table. In the last two months, her hair had managed to grow back a little bit. Her fishing cap had been retired until next time it all fell out. She ran her fingers through it and smiled, thinking how much she'd miss it. She tilted her head in the mirror. Brian hadn't seen her with hair yet, she realized, and she moved to get closer to the glass. She wondered if maybe he'd look at her differently now that she wasn't bald - if maybe he'd see her and want to make what they had more.

She spent a few minutes playing with her hair, clipping barrettes into it and looking this way and that way in the mirror before she sighed and put the hair clips down. She crawled onto the bed and hugged her knees, staring into the darkness.

Chapter Forty-Two

Brian and Emma had been filling out insurance forms for quite some time when Brian's cell phone rang. The office they were in was a plain office, typical to every other office in the hospital's four walls. Brian's back was turned to the door in the hallway, where he'd gone to take the call. Emma held her purse in her lap, her hand absently shuffling Brian's ring back and forth on it's chain at her neck, the receptionist humming quietly to herself as she scanned a couple copies of the paper work.

It'd been a relatively quiet morning. Molly and Jake had left that morning, ecstatic to be spending a night away together, suitcases tucked under Jake's arm and Molly's worried directions for while they were gone. The whiteboard on the fridge had detailed their planned itinerary so Emma would know exactly where they were at every moment to be able to contact them efficiently. Brian had arrived right on schedule to pick Emma up at Molly and Jake's, and they'd gotten to the hospital early for the meeting to do the paperwork.

But when Brian walked back into the room, his face pale, Emma knew the calm of the morning was about to come to a close.

"Brian?" she asked, "What's the matter?"

"Where's the Emergency Room?" Brian asked, his voice weak, shaking.

The receptionist looked up, "Down stairs - two flights, then follow the red line on the tile..." she answered, concern registering on her face.

Brian's hands were shaking, "I'm sorry," he stammered, "I - I need to go." He turned and, without any other words, left the room.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized hurriedly jumping up to go after him, "I'll call you when I can." She rushed into the hallway after Brian. His back was already retreating around the corner toward the elevators. She hurdled after him and only just made it before the elevator doors closed. "What's going on?" Emma asked as the elevator car lurched downwards. She caught onto the rails that lined the tiny cubed area.

"My dad," Brian stammered, "He had a heart attack."

Emma clutched the rails tighter. Mr. Littrell was like a second father to her. "Oh Lord," she murmured.

"He's downstairs," Brian stated. "My mum is too. G'Lord, g'Lord," his hands were still shaking.

When they reached the floor the receptionist had sent them too, Brian took off along the hallway following the redline. Emma trotted along behind him, her heart racing. When they reached the Emergency Room hallway, her eyes landed on Jackie Littrell, standing and clutching her husband's jacket, pacing.

"Mum," Brian said, greeting her and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. "Is he okay? Are you okay?" he asked.

Jackie wiped her eyes, "Lordy Baby Duck," she muttered, "You got here somethin' fast."

"We were just upstairs," Brian explained.

"We?" Jackie's eyes landed on Emma and for the slightest of moments, confusion clouded her eyes, then she gasped. "Emma? Emma Harris?"

Emma smiled, "Hello Mrs. Littrell."

Jackie looked at Brian, "Where's Baylee?" she asked.

Brian froze. "Shit," he groaned.

"Watch your mouth young man," Jackie scolded. Brian looked at his watch, though, barely hearing her.

"It's after 2:30 already," Bria n said. He looked torn, rubbing his forehead with his hand, Jackie's arms tightly wrapped around her boy...

"I'll get him," Emma suggested.

Brian looked surprised...then skeptical. "I dunno," he muttered.

"Brian, it's fine," Emma said, "It's not like he bites."

"That we know of," Brian intoned. He shook his head, "Em," he said, "I don't know how he'll feel about --"

"Bri, I already knows he hates me, but I think, given the circumstances, he can put up with me for the fifteen minutes it takes to get from the school to here," Emma pointed out, "So you can be with your family."

Jackie looked up at Brian with pleading eyes. "Don't leave me," she begged.

Brian reached into his pocket and handed Emma the keys to the truck.

*****
Baylee came out of the school carrying a shoe box he'd made a diagram inside of. Foam ball planets spun on thread in a dark blue painted box. He opened the door to the truck and swung inside. "Mr. Pike was really impressed," Baylee bragged, turned to pull on his seatbelt.

"I um..."

At the sound of a woman's voice, Baylee turned and for the first time noticed who was sitting behind the wheel. Baylee hesitated. "Where's my dad?" he demanded.

Emma took a deep breath, "Your grandfather isn't feeling too good, and your dad asked if I would pick you up."

Baylee glowered at Emma, then reached for the handle of the truck. Emma clicked the locks and the door clicked. Baylee turned, facial expression angry. "Why don't you get out of our life?" he demanded.

"Because I care about you guys," Emma replied, trying to be patient.

"We don't need you," Baylee yelled, "My mom cares about us, not you."

Emma frowned, "I'm not here to take your mom's place," she stammered.

"Good because you don't even come close!" Baylee yelled, "You're not even CLOSE to being my mom."

"I know how you feel," Emma supplied.

"No you don't," Baylee growned, "You don't know."

"I do though," Emma argued.

"You don't know what its like to lose a mom," Baylee yelled, "Don't lie and say you do when you don't."

"I do know how it feels," Emma replied. "My mom died in a car crash, too." Her voice was pitched, "My mom and my dad were both killed in a car crash."

Baylee froze, his mouth full of comments that could no longer come out. He kept his eyes focused on the window. After a long moment, he slowly turned to face Emma. "How old were you?"

"In my twenties," Emma admitted, "So I guess I don't know exactly what it's like - I don't know what it's like when I'm your age, but it's no less scary when you're oler, I'm sure..." she smiled sadly. "You're lucky to still have your father around. He really loves you a whole lot."

"He said that?" Baylee questioned.

"He talks about you a lot," Emma said.

Baylee considered this for a long moment. "So if you're not trying to replace my mom, how come you hang out with my dad so much?" he asked.

"We were friends when we were younger," Emma explained, "And your dad is helping me and I'm helping him. We're friends and friends do things for each other."

"Do you really have cancer?" Baylee asked quietly.

Emma nodded.

"Does my daddy help your cancer?" he asked.

"Yeah, he does," Emma replied. "If it wasn't for your dad, I wouldn't be able to get the treatment I need to fight the cancer."

Baylee contemplated this for a moment, then he asked, "Do you have kids to stay alive for?"

Emma felt a pain shoot through her heart. She'd grown up wanting children so badly and now she may never have one. She looked at Baylee and shook her head, "I don't have any kids."

"It's still pretty cool he's helping you live and stuff," Baylee admitted.

"Yeah it is, your dad's a good guy," Emma agreed.

"I guess you aren't so bad either," Baylee conceeded.

*****
Brian was out front of the hospital when Emma pulled up with Baylee twenty minutes later. He walked over and greeted Emma at the driver's side door. "After examining him, they think it's gas," Brian said, rolling his eyes. "Apparently he ate some pulled pork that didn't agree with him and he thought he was having a heart attack."

Emma laughed, "I'm glad he's okay."

"Hey bud," Brian greeted Baylee.

"Hey," Baylee answered.

Brian's eyes registered surprise. He hadn't expected a response. He'd expected a sullen glare, maybe even a rude comment about Emma. Brian's eyes met Emma's, which were sparkling with pride that Baylee had accepted her. He looked back to Baylee. "How'd Emma do at picking you up?"

"She was good," Baylee answered. "We talked."

"Oh yeah?" Brian asked. Again, Emma's eyes sparkled and she shrugged, a smile coming onto her face as he gave her a questioning look.

"Yup," Baylee nodded, "She's cool."

This was such a huge swing in opinion since the last time Brian had spoken with Baylee about Emma that he felt like the Twilight Zone music should be playing somewhere, or the introduction to the Alfred Hitchcock Show was about to break into the scene. He imagined the big-haired guy with the deep voice-over voice from Unsolved Mysteries wandering into the frame.

"I'm glad you think so," Brian said.

Baylee smiled.

Chapter Forty-Three

Baylee's continued interest in befriending Emma once again shocked Brian two nights later when the boys were planning what to do with a Saturday evening and Baylee asked if Emma would be interested in coming over to watch the Harry Potter movies with them. Brian said he wasn't sure and Baylee persisted until Brian found himself on the phone asking Emma what kind of pizza toppings she liked and if she preferred peanut butter chocolate swirl or cookie dough ice cream.

"Does Emma like Ginger Ale?" Baylee asked in the grocery store when Brian picked up a bottle of Canada Dry for the evening. "Maybe we should get Pepsi."

"Everyone likes Ginger Ale," Brian replied.

"I think we should get Pepsi just in case," Baylee answered, pointing to the bottle. Brian obliged and put it into the cart, not wanting to argue when Baylee was trying to do something nice for Emma. He wondered what had changed in the half an hour that Baylee had been with her... He couldn't help but conjure up the ridiculous image of Emma hovering over Baylee like he'd been abducted and she was the alien performing the experimentations... while laughing morbidly, of course.

At six, Emma was at the door and the pizza delivery was fifteen minutes out. Baylee greeted Emma at the door and pulled her into the house, dragging her up the stairs to his room to show her some stuff he'd made in art class during the week, leaving Brian standing in the aftermath of the whirlwind, holding her coat and bag at the door like Lurch or something.

Baylee pointed to a painting he'd done mimicking Starry Night and exclaimed, "There's like twelve different colors in that even though it really looks like only two! Isn't that weird?"

"Good job," Emma said with a smile. Baylee's enthusiasm was a marked difference from the hatred he'd been dishing prior to the week before. "I love painting," she added.

"You paint?" Baylee asked.

"Yeah I do," she nodded.

"Can I see yours?"

"Sure I'll bring some over sometime if you like."

"We should paint together."

"That sounds like fun."

"My dad doesn't paint, he doesn't like the squishy feeling on his fingers." Baylee wiggled his fingers in the air for Emma to see. "Even though you use a brush, he says it gets on his fingers anyways."

Emma laughed, "Your dad's silly."

"Yeah he is," Baylee agreed. "Do you like Ginger Ale?"

Emma blinked in surprise at the random question, "Umm, it's not my favorite."

"Do you like Pepsi?"

"Yeah," Emma agreed.

Baylee grinned, "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"Guys?!" Brian's voice carried up the stairs, "The pizza's here. Who's ready to get their Hogwarts on?"

"ME!" Baylee shrieked and he ran for the stairwell. Emma trailed behind, pausing at the door to stare into the vivid blue eyes of a photo of Leighanne that Baylee had hanging on a thumbtack by the door. She heard Baylee's footsteps thundering on the stairs, but still lingered by that photo. Leighanne was smiling in the picture, holding a much younger Baylee's shoulders. He was dressed in a Halloween costume to look like Woody from Toy Story. Emma felt a lump rise in her throat.

"Em? You get lost?" Brian's voice was laughter-filled.

"Sorry," she called back, and forced herself to step forward, to continue moving through this world that didn't really belong to her, but to the woman in that photograph. As she descended the stairs, she felt like she was moving through a dream, or play-acting a role. She smiled and laughed as Brian told jokes and opened up the pizza box and started putting slices onto plates. She helped Baylee get silverware and napkins and cups for the Pepsi and Ginger Ale, and carry them to the living room, where Brian's TV was displaying the menu for Sorcerer's Stone. But all the while, she couldn't help but imagine Baylee and Brian imagining she was someone else.

*****
The third movie was nearly over, Harry and Hermione had rescued Buckbeak and Sirius and the happy ending was impending, and Emma was the only one on the couch still awake. Brian was slouched low into the cushions, and Baylee had slumped over into Emma's lap and fallen asleep there. Pizza crusts littered the plates on the table and empty glasses stood beside them with crumpled up napkins tucked inside. Emma glanced between the two boys and sighed. She nudged Baylee gently, "Balyee," she whispered, "Let's move you to your room, okay?"

"Mmmm." Baylee murmured, struggling to sit up. He looked zombie-like. Emma clicked the remote, sending the DVD to the menu screen, and helped Baylee into a standing position. Guiding him as he stumbled across the room, Emma hovered behind Baylee all the way up the stairs to his room. He crawled into the bed and pulled his blankets up to his chin. "Thanks," his voice warbled sleepily as he tucked himself in.

Emma folded the blankets in around him. "You're welcome," she answered.

Baylee's eyes fluttered, "I'm sorry I was rude to you," he said.

Emma smiled, "It's okay," she answered, "I understand." Baylee hugged his blankets and rolled over. Emma snuck out of the room and back down the stairs. Now she had a much larger Littrell boy to put to bed.

Brian was exactly where she'd left him. She sat back down on the sofa and leaned over him, touching his shoulder. "Brian?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" his eyes stayed shut.

"Brian, you need to go to bed."

His eyes creaked open ever so slightly. He stared at her for a long moment. "I love you," he whispered, his accent thick with sleep.

Emma felt her heart ache within her chest. She wanted so badly to believe that he was speaking coherently, speaking to her. She looked down, away from his blazing eyes and chiseled jaw bone. She felt him shift his weight on the couch. His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her closer to him, right into his chest. He clutched her, tucking his chin over her head. She sank into him, tears filling her eyes.

"I love you," he said again, his voice almost pleading.

Emma's tears spilled over her eyelids and onto her cheeks. She couldn't stand how heart broken he would be when he realized that he was not holding Leighanne. How disappointed he'd be when he realized she was just Emma - just the girl that he'd never wanted quite the way she'd wanted him. She pulled back, out of the hug, and shuffled across the sofa, away from him. She struggled with herself, fighting the urge to avoid his gaze forever, before looking up and into his eyes once more. Brian was staring down at her gently, his bright blue eyes clouded by impending tears.

"I love you," he said again, his voice desperate.

Emma swallowed back the urge to respond with a jubliant return of the same words. She brought a shaking hand to Brian's knee. "I love you, too," she whispered, speaking truth, though the way an actor might feel speaking it. She was saying words she meant, but he was not hearing them from her but from a woman who was gone forever. Feeling the weight of stepping into the shoes of Leighanne, Emma knew she could never fill that place in either of the Littrell boys' hearts.

*****
After helping Brian to his bedroom, she let herself out the front door and started on her way home. She was nearly back to Molly and Jake's when she saw the sign for the interstate and an unexplainable urge overtook her. She put on her blinker, her heart racing, and drove onto the highway.

Chapter Forty-Four

"It's been like a week and I swear to God I can't find my living room," Nick was whispering into the phone, "You should see it. It's like a snowflake threw up."

"What?"

"She's got all this shit everywhere..." Brian heard things shifting around on the other end of the line, "Bridal Digest, Vera Wang catalogues... I dunno, it's insane. I feel like I got sucked into a lace factory and I'm being held prisoner..." Nick's voice trailed off. "Not that being a prisoner is a bad thing, I mean, yanno, it could get kinda kinky, but..."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Brian replied. He was cooking dinner while listening to Nick's mid-afternoon crisis. He'd been having these regularly since he'd gotten engaged. Brian already knew that part of his role as best man at Nick's wedding was going to involve forcibly ensuring Nick's presence at the alter. Probably it would involve a tether.

"It's friggin' insane," Nick hissed, his voice rising on the panic scale from kinda sorta nervous to full blown can't breathe scared to death holy shit. "Maybe this is a bad idea," he added.

Brian had dealt with this, too. "Of course it isn't. Dude you're freaking out about a few wedding magazines and some toole."

"Tools?"

"Toole, that's the lacy dress stuff."

"The shit that looks like a screen?"

"Yep. Toole."

"Why is it all over my living room?"

"Because it's not just your living room anymore, Nick, it's your living room."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"It does, though."

"She has a bedroom."

"So do you."

"My point is, she should put all her fluffy white girl crap up there."

"Nick, she's excited, and she wants to share the fluffy white girl crap with you. Just roll with it man."

"But the Buccs are on tomorrow. What if I can't see them around all her tools?"

"Toole," Brian corrected, "It's not a plural."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"I think I'm gonna die," Nick whispered.

"You aren't going to die."

"No I swear I am."

Brian's phone beeped. He pulled it away from his ear. He had a call coming in. When he put the phone back to his ear, he was greeted with Nick's whiniest voice continuing on about the toole. Brian paused. "Nick," he said. Beep. "Nick?" Beep.

"It's just like it's everywhere dude I feel like I fell into a mofo of a cupcake, ya'know? I mean not that being in a cupcake would be bad - gimme a fork and I'd eat the crap out of that but --"

"Nick?" Beep.

"-- my ass would not be happy with me if I ate a house-sized cupcake, though. And there's no cherry. No sirre --"

"Nii-iick!" Beep.

" -- that sucka's long gone..."

"As much as I'd love to continue hearing about your fictional space cupcake and Lauren's virginity or whatever it is we're discussing right now, I've got another call coming in so I'm going to hang up on you now."

"What?"

"Goodbye Nick."

Brian pulled the phone away from his ear and disconnected from Nick, switching lines and answering the other phone call. "Hello?" he asked, without having seen the caller ID.

Molly's voice was frantic. "Brian?"

"Molly?"

"Oh thank God. Where the hell are you guys?"

Brian paused. "Um... me and Baylee?" he asked uncertainly.

"And Emma?"

"Well me and Baylee are here at the house..." he said slowly, "I'm in the kitchen to be real specific. Emma, I believe, should probably be at your house?"

"You mean she isn't with you?"

"Uh no."

"I told Jake ---" Molly let out a frustrated crow of sound.

Brian stared into the pasta water he was boiling. "The last time I saw her was --" he paused. He didn't actually want to think about the last time he'd seen her. He'd told her he loved her, and she'd brushed it off until he'd practically begged for a response before half-heartedly muttering a response, then disappearing. "After the movie," he ended hastily.

"She never came home."

Brian was silent while the meaning of the words processed. An irrational fear filled him. His mouth went dry. "She didn't?"

"No." Now Molly was near tears.

Brian's mind was sailing through images, scenes, moments. He saw the couch in Atlanta - heard the phone ringing, the blue-screen glow of the television. The Price is Right. The voice of the nurse on the phone. Mr. Littrell, I'm calling because there was an accident and we need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible. He heard Baylee's voice when he woke him up. In now-time, he reached for the burner's knob, turned it off, his hands shaking.He lowered into a kitchen chair.

"Brian," Molly's voice broke, "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Brian whispered.

But even as the words flowed from his mouth he did know. He didn't know how he knew, only that he did. His stomach turned and he clutched the edge of the table. "No," he stammered, "Actually, I do know." He closed his eyes. "Can you watch Baylee for me for a couple days?"

"Days?"

"I need to go get Emma."

Chapter Forty-Five

Emma's hands were shaking by the time she pulled into town. She could feel her heart constricting in her chest, could feel the sweat building on her brow. She unrolled her car window and breathed in hot air despite how late in the year it was. She would've turned on the radio, but the mood wasn't right for it. She'd never been to Atlanta, Georgia before, though she'd known for quite some time that Brian had taken up residence there. She'd never had a reason before to go. But now...

The car pulled into the cemetary that she'd read they'd buried Leighanne in and parked under a tree she recalled from the photographs of Brian and Baylee the day of the funeral. She walked up a slope and found herself a few paces from a gravestone engraved with the name of the woman who had held Brian's heart captive. Emma inched closer, her eyes glued to the stone.

"I never would've stolen him from you," she commented quietly. She wasn't sure what she'd expected coming here, but it seemed anticlimatic somehow. She knelt down on the grass, picked a blade, and stared at the dead flower skeletons that frame the bottom of the stone's face. Emma drew a deep breath, "He probably never told you about me. I was his girlfriend in high school, you know?" She worked on peeling the blade of grass into pieces, "Anyway, I wanted you to know, he still loves you. He always will." Emma's fingers struggled to tie the blade's pieces into knots. "I'm scared to die," she added. "I'm scared because I don't know what happens next. I wish you could tell me." Emma paused. "Actually, I wish you couldn't tell me. I wish you weren't dead. Brian didn't deserve to lose you... and... well, I'm dying anyways. If I could just trade places with you... and let Brian go back to his normal life... his life without me..." Tears were falling down Emma's cheeks. "If I could do that, I would."

"I wouldn't want you to do that."

For but the splittest of moments, Emma's irrational side thought that Leighanne had answered her before she realized that first of all that was impossible, and second of all it was a man's voice who had spoken. And not just any man. It was Brian's.

Emma looked over her shoulder. She couldn't explain where he'd come from, she'd heard no vehicle approach. She didn't know how long he'd been there, he'd been stealth in his arrival. She felt her heart beat quicken.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm here for you," Brian replied simply. He walked over and lowered himself onto the grass beside Emma. He, too, picked a blade of grass and started pulling it apart the way she'd done.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Emma demanded.

Brian shrugged, "I just knew."

Emma stared down at the knot of grass particles she'd created for a long moment. When she looked back up, she saw Brian was staring at the headstone, tears traveling across his face. He looked so broken... "I'm sorry I made you come here," she whispered.

Brian swiped his tears away with his fists. "No, it's probably a good thing," he answered. His breath came out shaking and weak. "When she first died," he said, "I thought she was here, I thought when I came here that I was visiting her or something. I worried when I moved that she'd be lonely," he confessed. Brian shook his head, "She's not here, though."

"I had the same problem when my parents died," Emma said, "I kept expecting to see them somewhere, like around town or around the corner when I walked in that house. But the other day when I was there with you and Baylee it just felt like home again."

Brian looked at Emma for a long moment, "It did," he agreed, "It felt like home."

Emma's eyes met Brian's.

"Em... I can't make a grand gesture like proposing right now... because I've already done that. We're already married..." he edged closer to her, "But I would if I could. I would make a grand gesture and get on one knee and beg you to be mine because I've loved you all this time and I just want you to be a part of my life everyday, to make it feel like home every day."

Emma felt like her breath had been sucked out of her. "I- I-"

"Please," Brian begged. "Love doesn't just drop into the lap of a guy more than once... so the way I see it, I'm already pressing my luck having had it arrive twice. Please," he whispered, "Don't tempt fate."

Emma could feel the tears as they fell over the cusp of her eyelids. "Are you sure," she whispered, "This is what you want? Are you sure here is the place to do it?"

Brian glanced at the headstone. "She needs to see that I'm moving on," he whispered.

"But -"

"Emma, I love you."

The words hung between them for a long moment before she managed to blurt out her response: "I love you more."

*****
The drive back to Kentucky was long. They took turns driving, though Emma honestly preferred it when Brian drove. She felt safest, as she always had, when she could just trust in him. She watched his features flex and move and the way his knuckles protruded when he clutched the steering wheel. All these little things were little things she'd always treasured about him, things she'd missed in the years he'd been gone.

Now that they'd said it - the whole I love you thing - neither of them could seem to stop saying it. Brian claimed to have the greatest stock in saying it - pointing out that he flew across the southeast to say it. She pointed out she'd driven across it to make him realize he wanted to say it.

When the car's wheel crunched the gravel in the driveway at Molly and Jake's, Emma looked at Brian, leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're sure about this?" she asked.

"Never been more sure in my life," he replied.

Emma climbed out of the car, followed by Brian. They walked to the front door and before Emma could reach the handle, it'd been flung open by Molly, who lurched herself across the stoop and onto Emma, wrapping her arms around her best friend's neck. "You're alive," she gasped dramatically.

"Yeah I'm alive," Emma laughed.

Molly held her out at arm's length. "Don't you dare scare the shit out of me like that again."

Emma smiled, "Yes mother."

Molly squinted her eyes at Emma and they both laughed. Turning to Brian, Molly said, "And thank you for finding her."

Brian smiled, "Not a problem."

"DADDY!" Baylee suddenly sprang through the door similarly to how Molly had, attaching himself to Brian's waist. "We watched Transformers, me and Jake, like every night. It was so cool."

Molly rolled her eyes. "If I see that movie one more time..."

Jake appeared at Molly's shoulder. "Don't worry babe, I'm on my limit with it, too," he said.

Molly laughed, "Good because now that Emma's home, I'm pretty sure we're going to be out voting you on the movie front anyways."

Brian, who'd knelt down to talk to Baylee, looked up at Emma as silence fell over the group of them. Emma swallowed, feeling awkward. She glanced at Brian, who nodded, then looked back at Molly, "Well... actually..." Emma took a deep breath, "Actually, I'm here to get my things."

"Your things?" Molly replied.

Jake, already catching on, smiled.

"Why get your things?" Molly demanded.

"Because," Brian said, standing up, "She's coming home."

Molly's eyes flashed to Brian, then back to Emma. Her jaw dropped, "Oh my GOD!" she shrieked and lunged at Emma once again. "You're gettin' married!" she yelped.

"We already are," Emma laughed.

"You're gettin' married again!" Molly yelped.

Baylee tugged on Brian's shirt. "Do I have to wear the funny clothes this time?" he asked.

"What?"

"When you and mom got married again," Baylee explained patiently, "I had to wear that goofy hat. Do I have to wear the goofy hat again?"

Brian smirked, glad that Baylee's darkest concern was a top hat and tux. "No, dude, you don't."

"YES!" Baylee pumped the air.

Epilogue

"I feel like a penguin."

"You look like a penguin."

"If I keep eating this shit I'll waddle like a penguin."

"So stop eating."

"I can't stop eating, I eat when I'm nervous."

"So don't be nervous."

Nick's eyes widened to the size of the plate he was holding - covered with pigs in blankets, cheese squares, tiny chocolate mousse cups, and carrot sticks drenched in ranch dressing - he looked at Brian, incredulous, "How the haystack am I supposed to be not nervous right now?"

"Because it's not even your wedding?"

"I'm gonna be doing this shit in like six months, though!" he whined. He shoved a chocolate mousse cup into his mouth, crunching through the dark chocolate cup savagely.

Brian was staring into a mirror, his breath coming out shakily and his blue eyes glowing with nervousness. He shook his head at Kevin, who was lounging in a chair a couple paces away. "Nick," Kevin drawled, "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be the one calming him down, not the other way around."

"Sorry man," Nick said. He held up a weenie on a toothpick. "You want some good eats?"

"No, that's okay," Brian said, rejecting the half-eaten finger food. "I'm good."

Nick shoved it into his mouth.

"Have ya'll seen Emma yet?" Brian asked, looking around the room.

"I think AJ snuck over to her side," Howie answered from behind Brian. "We all know he's a bridezilla at heart."

Kevin rolled his eyes.

Nick's eyes widened. "AJ's over there? Jesus Christ, he's not allowed to be unattended by Lauren. By the time he's done she'll want skulls and red and weird shit for our wedding." He dropped his plate and beelined out of the room.

Brian let out a breath of relief. "Oh my Lordiness," he gasped, "I thought he'd never leave."

"Why'd you pick him to be your best man again?" Howie asked, laughing.

"I don't know," Brian laughed. "Obligation, since I'm his, I guess."

Kevin shook his head. "You could've pulled the 'he's my cousin' excuse if you picked me."

"Or the Howie hasn't gotten to be one yet excuse if you'd picked me," Howie chimed in.

Kevin laughed, "Poor D."

"I know, I always get picked on and left out," he muttered. "And I'm not even asleep this time."

A knock came on the door, followed by the door busting open. "I hope none of you boys are indecent, 'cos I'm coming in --" Molly was suddenly in the bachelor room, clad in a light blue dress, a white shawl around her shoulders, which she squared and put her hands on her hips. "Littrell," she barked.

"Someone's in trouble," Howie giggled.

"What's up Molly?" Brian asked, turning around to face her.

"Why the hell did you send the nervous shooter over to our half the wedding party? He's over there, a ball of nerves. He's like a puppy about to pee all over the floor."

"That's why we sent him over there," Kevin chuckled.

"Well he's your problem now," Molly pulled Nick through the door by his shirt. "Keep him over here." She disappeared out the door, closing it behind her, as Nick stood sheepishly by the wall.

"What in the hell did you do in under three minutes to be exiled back here?"

"Lauren was trying on the veil and they were all giggling and --" Nick shook his head like he'd seen a ghostly, awful thing and grabbed his plate of food, shoving two weenies into his mouth at once. He chomped around them, "It was awful," he said, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

Jake poked his head in, "Hey guys? They want you up front."

"Okay."

The four of them were joined by AJ in the hallway, who muttered something to Nick about letting him help out with the wedding plans - to which Nick quickly threw a stick of gum into his mouth as a response - and they trooped to the front of the church. A hush went over the crowded pews, and Brian felt his palms go moist. Nick bumped into him from the back and he glanced over his shoulder. Nick's eyes were panic-filled. Brian laughed.

Lauren, Leigh, Rochelle, Kristen and Molly walked up the aisle together, Molly being the maid of honor, of course. The other four were dressed in dark blue gowns, making Molly's light blue stand out. They reached the stairs leading up to the platform and each stood on a different step - Lauren on the lowest, since she was the tallest of the girls - and Baylee came next, strutting down the aisle, carrying a basket with the rings inside. He proudly did not have a top hat on, and stood by AJ, who put a hand on Baylee's shoulder.

But when the music started and the people stood up... Brian's attention was completely diverted from everything else around him. He stared down the aisle at the doors, his heart racing.

Jake and Emma appeared at the door. Emma, dressed in white, her arm hooked through Jake's. The small veil was covering her eyes, and she held a bouqet of dark blue violets with ivy mixed in. Jake led her slowly up the aisle towards Brian. He patted her shaking hand, and she smiled up at him, tears filling her eyes. She mouthed thank you to Jake when they reached the steps and he gently placed a kiss on her cheek before letting her go and sitting down in the place saved for him in the front row.

Emma gingerly stepped up the stairs, and Molly stepped forward and carefully lifted the veil away from Emma's eyes, smiling into them tearfully. She hugged her best friend tight and whispered, "Go get'im," in her ear, making Emma laugh quietly.

When she turned around, Emma's eyes locked with Brian's. He held out his hands to her, and she slid hers into them, stepping closer. Staring into each other's faces, they both knew that the next six months would certainly hold some crazy times - what with Nick getting married and Emma still in treatment - but that no matter what the days would bring they already knew that even if they couldn't save each other from the battles they were fighting - they could be there for one another through it all.