I know it's been forever and I'm so sorry; I've just been super busy with school. I hope this was worth the wait and I will try to do better. Thanks to all of those who reviewed and favorited, it really means a lot to me. Please let me know what you think of this chapter and if there is anything you'd like to see in the future.

I've got to Whisper

--B--

Denial is a deadly game. Innocent at first, or seemingly so, but you can always count on it to evolve. It evolves into a lie so downright convincing that you find yourself believing it. And isn't that the most dangerous kind of denial? The kind that keeps you inside of a world that is so far from reality. For you can only deny the obvious truth in your heart for so long before it escapes

Bangs and Crashes were floating in through the open bedroom door alerting Brooke to the arrival of morning. Her eyes opened slowly, trying to ease themselves into the sunlight that washed over her and they darted to the mahogany beside table on her left, searching for the time.

11:17

She had not slept so well, so peacefully, since… well, for a long time anyways.

Closing her eyes again she adjusted her head on the pillow preferring the extra resting time to checking her IPhone and finding numerous angry, and maybe a little bit worried, messages from her mother. It's her damn company though, and if she wants to sleep in she's sure as hell sleeping in.

Pulling the blanket up to her ears she let out a breath, pausing in the calmness of her mind. Her thoughts drifting slowly through, one by one, unlike the chaotic confusion that usually took place. She had never been a morning person, and this sentiment had only increased lately due to images of the previous nights nightmares plaguing morning's first thoughts.

But this morning these thoughts and images were noticeably absent, the remainder of the night's dreams had been proven to be surprisingly sweet. The only problem being she could not remember what it was that had made it so sweet. It always amused her how it was the bad dreams, the less than enjoyable ones, which she could not forget a moment of while the beautiful dreams were as fleeting as the memories of that nature.

But maybe it is because the horrible dreams and memories are less painful to let go of.

Her musings were disrupted by more clattering escaping from the kitchen followed by the gruff sound of Julian's voice barking into what she could only assume was his phone. She heard her name amongst other inaudible ramblings and strained her ears to try and determine the nature of the conversation. Judging from the sound of his voice, it wasn't a good one.

Silently, she debated whether to hide out in the safety of her bed covers or to run to her boyfriend's side. And admittedly, the former was winning considerably when she heard his footsteps grow louder and less distant as her choice became complacent.

"Yes, father," said Julian lazily into the phone as he balanced the phone against his shoulder, his hands currently occupied with plain toast and a glass of orange juice (his practically patented hangover cure.) She had considered feigning sleep but the lump in her throat slowed her instincts and he hesitantly stared into her eyes upon noticing them to be open.

The world seemed more real now that she was in his presence, less avoidable; she sat up slightly, adjusting the pillows beneath her back as she listened to his words of goodbye hastily spoken into the phone and braced herself for words directed at her.

She didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere in this year and a half she had become afraid to talk to him, to have her words analyzed in an effort to find an explanation for her more than strange behavior lately; an explanation which she herself did not fully understand.

The phone clicked, seeming loud in the silence, and she pulled the blankets in closer around her. She watched him intently, profiling him, expecting a man free of worries and the memory of last night's fight.

Fight. She hated when words had two definitions, both variations completely different not only in description but in feeling. Especially when one she thrived on; fighting for her life, fighting for love. The other though, the vocal kind, destroyed her. Lately, exhaustion from so much of the latter made it difficult for her to do any of the first kind.

She was just tired; of the fights, the lies and mostly just tired of the world's constant urge to pull her down. Which is why she gave him a half-hearted smile and tried to relax her stance slightly, it was not a n act of forgiveness, but one of desperation.

Julian though, mistook her change in demeanor as an attempt to make up his face lighting up immediately; despite his being sorely mistaken she didn't have the energy to dispute him, for that which she had gained from sleeping in had left her.

"Morning baby," he said, giving her one of his crooked grins. He looked so damn innocent, like a child begging for acceptance, and she widened her slight smile in order to relieve herself from the guilt he was causing her to feel; after all, he hadn't really done anything.

"Morning," she replied, putting on an overly chipper tone to disguise a still present tone of discontent.

"I didn't know you were awake," said Julian obviously attempting his own façade of the doting boyfriend, "so I only made breakfast for myself, would you like me to make you some?"

"Nah," said Brooke while propping herself into a seated position, "I better take a shower. I have to get into the office soon; Mother's bound to be freaking out."

"You just wanted the morning off?" he asked reaching out his hand to help her up. She ignored it though pushing herself up and off the bed on her own accord.

"More like needed it," she replied plainly before giving him the obligatory kiss and attempting not to gag at the still present taste of whiskey mixed with morning breath. She shuffled towards the bathroom door grabbing something off of the dresser and putting it into her pocket along the way. But before closing it she turned back towards her watching boyfriend and said, "I'll see you tonight for dinner, love you," before closing the door, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Sitting down onto the cold floor she pulled the notebook and pen she had grabbed out of her pocket. Lately, she had returned to her long abandoned habit of writing letters to let out the feelings that she was to afraid to share. And as she let the words pour out of her heart and onto the paper she felt slightly better. Now though, she realized that what made her feel better than anything else was what she had sought comfort in last night on this very same bathroom floor.

--L--

Sometimes denial is completely for your own benefit, driven by selfishness and the fear of facing bitter and evil truth. But occasionally, you deny the truths of your heart in order to protect somebody that you love. For if you love somebody enough, the pain of living a lie seems easy in comparison to hurting that somebody that you would give up anything for.

Lucas watched as macaroni sauce dribbled down Anna's chin and he could not contain his smile at her being still so happy despite the imperfection. He missed those days, the ones that he was simply happy just for the fact of being alive, the ones before adulthood and worries of an importance greater than basketball.

She was so tiny, absolutely brimming with a sense of innocence for the world had not yet jaded her. She had not faced the pain of heartache or losing the one that you love. She had not yet been forced to move on without someone that she needed more than anything else, and that was an experience he hoped she would never have to live through. If only for selfish reasons though, he could barely stand seeing his girl with a scraped knee; he did not know if he would ever be able to handle her with a broken heart.

For now though, the only thing that mattered to her was the macaroni in her Spongebob bowl and making sure that her Daddy was never more than five feet from her. And truthfully, he didn't like it when that happened either; he preferred the light that came with being around her to almost anything else. And last night had provided him with the desire to protect her from the world.

He heard a crash and he looked down at his daughter on instinct to make sure she was alright. But Anna was happily eating, the noise coming from the door to his bedroom. So he took a deep breath and exhaled, bracing his heavy heart for a fight.

"Good morning," said Lucas, his tone bitter and slightly condescending, "how did you sleep?"

They had not spoken last night, she did not wander in until slightly after 6 am and though he was still awake he did not have the energy, or was it the desire, to speak. So he feigned a restful sleep as she crawled into the bed beside him. And when Anna woke up an hour later, he was up with her leaving Peyton to sleep alone until 12:00.

She muttered what he could only assume was a hello and walked straight to the coffee machine grabbing the 'world's best friend' mug Brooke had given to her in junior year along the way. Lucas rolled his eyes and returned his attention to where it was deserved focusing on his daughter as she scooped another spoonful into her mouth.

The coffee seemed to awaken her need for attention a few minutes later however; as she smiled and said, "I missed you last night."

"Me?" asked Lucas ignoring her attempt at seduction, "or your daughter?"

"Both," she said biting her lip slightly and as she did so he noticed a slightly bruised quality to them but he didn't inquire about it instead letting her finish, "Why do you find it so hard to believe that?"

"I don't want to do this right now," he said shifting his glance to Anna, pleading with her mother to catch on. He was not going to do this in front of his baby. She rarely ever spent any time with her mother, her mother just could not be bothered, and he was not going to let the few moments that they did spend together be plagued by fights. He more than anyone knew what it was like to grow up with a parent who could not be bothered.

Peyton nodded, sitting down at the kitchen table across from him and placing her coffee cup onto the table as she reached for the newspaper. He eyed the cup curiously, remembering the first time he had seen it the week that Peyton was moving in. At the time he couldn't help but notice the light in her eyes as she described to him Brooke buying it for her at a small store during their 'Ho's over bros, again' weekend.

At the time he didn't know why, he wasn't even sure if he had realized he had the feeling back then, but the cup and the meaning behind it had always bothered him. The circumstances leading up to that weekend had in no way deemed Peyton worthy of that title; calling her the world's best friend at that point seemed as ridiculous as calling Heidi Montag the world's best singer. But he certainly had no place judging her on that situation, not when the situation was largely his fault.

What bothered him more though was the fact that she still broadcasted the sentiment as if it were true. Now knowing what he knew about what Brooke was going through, wouldn't a best friend be there through that? Wouldn't a best friend know about that?

He couldn't imagine going through a week without speaking to Haley, sure they've grown up and it was never be the same as it was all of those years ago when they played mini golf atop of his mom's café, but he was a firm believer in the fact that best friend should be more than a label.

Or a coffee cup in this case.

"Hey, have you spoken to Brooke lately?" he asked her, trying to seem as natural as possible but his straight face was blown when he saw Anna's face brighten slightly when Brooke's name was mentioned.

"No," Peyton said nonchalantly flipping a page, "not since she came down for Anna's birthday."

So that would be a month ago, after it had already happened to Brooke, and she had not even noticed. But then again, neither had he; he hated the thought that he hadn't been there, hadn't even known, more than he ever thought he would, and probably much more than he should considering he was supposed to be happily married.

He fell into silence again, preferring not to question her as to why as it would only lead to a rising amount of anger that shouldn't even be there in the first place.

Apparently Peyton had questions of her own though as she prodded, "why do you ask?"

"Why do I ask what?" he replied despite knowing what she was referring to.

"Why do you ask about Brooke?" she asked a tone of confusion in her voice.

Why did he ask? He couldn't think of a way to answer that question without angering his wife. He couldn't say he was only worried about her, even if it was only as a friend, for that would mean betraying Brooke's trust. And that he was sure was something he could never do.

"Luke, why did you ask?" she asked again, looking up from the newspaper finally, her eyes searching out his. He had to answer something, he knew that much, but nothing was coming out. Luckily, his cell phone vibrates in his pocket providing him with a reason to excuse himself from the table without answering her question.

"Hello?" he said into the phone already feeling grateful to whoever it was.

"Hey Luke," said Lindsay's voice, "I was told you called earlier about the meeting this weekend?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, "I was wondering if you needed me out there for it?"

"I thought I told you," she said sounding distracted, "it's only a budgeting meeting that isn't worth your time to fly out for. I can fax you the numbers when it's done so that you have a copy if you'd like."

The days had certainly passed when their phone calls had lasted for hours. He no longer knew the girl that he was once in love with, they no longer communicated in that way, as equals. Now, their relationship stayed strictly within the barriers of editor and client.

Some days, they could both feel the tenseness in conversation though when neither knew if they should inquire about the others life. But neither ever asked. Maybe it was the uncomforting feeling that came with learning of your ex fiancés new spouses wellbeing. He certainly did not find the thought of hearing that her new boyfriend made her happier than she had ever been particularly appealing. It's not that he still loved her – in fact he knew he didn't – it's just those leftover pangs that never really go away.

"No that's fine," he said quickly into the phone, "thanks, Lindsey."

He heard the phone click and carefully slid it into his pocket so as not to disturb the sheet of paper that was resting there. Leaning back against the wall he sighed, his legitimate excuse was gone. He had thought he was brilliant this morning when he thought of it, it was just so perfect. But considering the reason for the plan, he wasn't completely surprised it didn't work out.

Making his way into the kitchen he made up his mind on what he was going to do, he didn't have any other choice.

"Hey Peyt," he said to the blonde still sipping at her coffee looking like she was about to fall asleep, "Lindsay needs me in New York for a few days, some kind of meeting with the publishers."

Peyton made no effort to hide her disdain, the only thing unclear to him was whether she was upset over the fact that he was leaving or being left alone with her daughter, "when will you be leaving?"

"Later on tonight," he said quietly leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, "but I'm going to get this little one washed up before I have to start packing. I love you, okay?" She merely nodded in reply, clearly liking playing the role of annoyed housewife.

"Sorry Peyton," he said as he scooped up his daughter and left the room.

Minutes later when he sat Anna on the bathroom counter and held a cloth underneath the hot water he looked into her innocent almond eyes and felt compelled to give her an explanation.

"Sweetie, I know you hate it when Daddy goes away," he said, knows she wouldn't understand much of what he said, as he wiped the spaghetti sauce off of her fact, "and Daddy loves you very much but he also has another friend who he loves. And this friend needs his help."

He paused to pull the old, worn sheet of paper out of his pocket. "See, she wrote me this when I was going through a hard time. And if it wasn't for her words and her love, I probably wouldn't have survived it. So it's only fair to return the favor right, baby girl? She needs me, and I need to be there to help her. But I love you, and I love your Mommy and I will be home soon."

--N--

There's times when your entire world is in a complete contradiction to the person who you used to be, who you were supposed to be. Every word and every action being in absolute denial to the character you had spent so many years building up for yourself. Sometimes you deny the person that you used to be in hopes of forgetting the circumstances that made that person change.

Did he ever think he'd make it here?

He'd heard and answered this question so many times since his introduction as the Bobcat's starting point guard a year and a half ago. And without fail, he always offered up varied versions of the same simple answer. Yes, always. Were there dark days when he doubted this? Sure. He had lost use of his legs after all, but he had never given up the dream that he had carried with him since he was a toddler.

That was the premise his agent had come up with to turn him into a truly admirable sports hero. The Michael Jordan kind of player that would have kids running up to their mothers spewing "I want to be Nathan Scott, Mommy." Promote the idea of never giving up on your dream; no matter how many times life pushes you to a point that nobody would blame you for abandoning it. And every time somebody tells you that it's impossible, always reply by simply saying that it's improbable rather than impossible. People beat the odds every day, and he was a firm believer that it was hard work and not luck that let that happen.

And then there was the truly bankable part; the portrayal of the perfect family and the story of unbreakable love that used to be Haley's and his. The nerdy girl who met the undeniably popular jock and ended up with a marriage certificate and a baby (in that much more romantic order) by the time she graduated high school.

It was all part of the plan to make him relevant to more demographics than just the males who watched his games. He had the being admired for his skill part covered; he had been training for that his entire life. But his agent seemed set on throwing out life stories that made him into a man that children could look up to, with a story that they could use as fuel for their own dreams. As well as giving women out there something to swoon about, a story that proved that he had always put his family and love over the game of basketball.

Or used to anyways.

There it was, men, women and children; they had it all covered. And Nathan could not help but be impressed with the marketing plan that Clay had faxed to him. It certainly would help garner him more attention.

But the factor of airing the past, particularly his and Haley's, to gain a profit somehow bothered him.

"I don't know Clay," he said into his cell phone, "I mean it's great. But, does the public really need to know all about my personal life?"

"Sure," said Clay his voice sharp, "they all know you're a great basketball player, you've proven that. But don't you think it's time that they see you're a great guy too? They see Haley at all of these events and games; don't you think your fans would like to know your guys' story? Girls love that kind of thing; they eat up stories that let them believe that love really does come from the most unexpected of sources. That love can happen to anybody at any age."

"I don't know if Haley will appreciate me letting everybody in on every single detail of our history," said Nathan before sighing into the phone.

"Are you really worrying about what she thinks, Nate? Remember what she did."

Honestly, he could never forget it. It flashed into his thoughts during the most tedious of moments, moments of severe happiness, and moments of darkness and even when he was supposed to be playing. More than a few times he had given the ball away or missed a three pointer due to memories of the pain of that day stabbing suddenly into his thoughts.

But did he want to hurt her for it? No, not really. He loved her too much to ever consider hurting her on purpose. Even if he wanted to though, hurting her would mean hurting Jamie and that was something that he absolutely flat out refused to do. That little boy was the only living thing that he truly believed in within this world right now. He was the only person that would never hurt him.

Clay proposed projecting the perfect marriage though, how could he do that when his marriage was in reality falling to shambles. Could he deny that to the public; make them believe in a lie that was so outlandishly far from the truth? Could he do that to himself; relive what used to be and what should still be on a constant and daily basis? Could he even do it to Haley; ask her to pretend she was still invested in this marriage?

Would she comply even if he asked?

"I have to talk to her Clay," Nathan said before hanging up, "I'll get back to you later today."

He fell down onto his hotel bed and sighed, this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.