"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."
