Reba paced her living room as she rubbed her hands together. Just one last question, do you two still love each other? Yes? Of course? I never stopped? She scoffed at her own stupid thoughts. She shook her head and flopped back onto the couch with a huff.

"No, the mo-ron cheated on me for heaven's sake!" She grumbled aloud and yet, here she was, sitting in her living room dying to know what his answer would have been.

Damn, Barbra Jean.

She didn't know why she cared so much. She knew she shouldn't. It could have been the look of pure shock that she'd seen on Brock's face when his marriage counselor had uttered the words. Or the twinkle she was positive she'd caught a glimpse of when he had glanced at her. She hadn't missed that glimmer.

She stood and began pacing again, tidying as she went, not entirely sure what she should do next. It was far too early to start dinner, but she needed something, anything to take her mind off what has just occured.

"I need wine." She spoke to her empty house, thankful for that fact, and made a beeline to the liquor cabinet. She grabbed a bottle of red wine, practically tearing the metal wrapping off and cramming the cork screw into the top of the bottle, she yanked the cork free a satisfying pop filled the quiet room.

What had she done to deserve this? She wondered as she poured herself an overly large glass. She was secretly thankful that none of the kids were going to be home for the rest of the evening. She wandered across the kitchen and locked the door, something she never did, but she really didn't want any company right now. Especially not Brock.

How was she supposed to face him?

Making her way back into the living room she set the bottle down on the coffee table along with her glass before walking towards the front door and locking it too. She closed the blinds to keep prying eyes out and made her way back to the comfort of her couch.

She kicked her shoes off and took another swig of wine, the tart red liquid soothing her mind for a brief moment. She sighed and rubbed her temple, closing her eyes to prevent the headache from forming behind her eyes. What now? She'd eventually have to face him. What would she say? More importantly, what would he say?

She shook her head, scolding herself mentally. It doesn't matter what he says! He's your ex-husband, excuse me get out of my house and out of my heart! Reba took a long deep breath and held it, letting her chest fill with air. She pushed the thoughts from her mind as she slowly released it, repeating the process a few times before lifting her glass to her lips once more. She finished quickly and filled it again, becoming seemingly unsatisfied with the fact that the alcohol was making her think even more about her situation with Brock instead of doing what it was supposed to do. Make her thoughts go cloudy and to push all thoughts of him out of her mind.

Reba awoke to knocking at her front door, she sat up and stretched not recalling lying down she looked at her watch. 5:30pm, she had slept her afternoon away. Who in the world would be coming to her house at that hour? Sighing, she rose to her feet and realizing she was unsteady, knocked into the coffee table. She composed herself, straightening her shirt and walked to the door, covering a yawning with her hand.

Reba tousled her hair and straightened herself out before she unlocked the door and pulled it open. She stared wide eyed at the person behind it. Brock.

He just stood there staring at her for what seemed like a lifetime before he spoke. "You locked the door." He said simply.

"I didn't want anyone botherin' me. Clearly you didn't get the hint. What do you want, Brock?" She said as she held her ground between him and the inside of her home.

"To talk."

Her heart tightened, how was she going to ge out of this mess. "I'm busy." The words left her lips without her permission.

"With what?" He tried leaning in to see past her but she closed the door slightly and stood in his way.

"None of your business."

"Reba,"

"Brock?"

"We need to talk."

"No, no, I don't think we do, so if you don't mind." Reba moved to close the door but Brock stopped her with his hand.

"We need to talk about what happened." He looked into her eyes and she felt her walls drop, she didn't want to talk. Why did he have to make her? Why couldn't he just leave her be?

"I don't want to. Please just leave."

He continued to hold door with his hand to keep her from pulling it shut. "Reba, let me in." he pleaded.

She sighed and let go of the door handle, panning her hand into the living room. "What's there to talk about?" She folded her arms over her chest.

"You know what." He walked in and she closed the door behind him.

She sighed heavily. Here we go. "I'm sick of this, Brock. I'm tired of you playin' all these games and decidin' after you've already blurted everything out if you actually believe it or not." She began to pace behind the couch. "I told you before, that door is closed." She pointed a long finger at him. "It's over. We're done."

"Y'know, you keep sayin' that, but I don't think you really believe it."

"Excuse me?" she took a step back, the fear of being too close to him resonated through her entire body.

"Well," he toyed with the top of the lampshade. "I don't believe it for a second."

She narrowed her eyes at him. How dare he? "Get out."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah," She said as she walked straight past him toward the door. "So am I." She hastily yanked it open and pointed through it with her other hand. "Get out."

He shook his head. "No."

"Brock."

"Reba."

"Brock." she said again, this time with more force.

"We have to talk about this."

"No, we don't. You think you made a mistake?" She crossed the room and stood in front of him, almost immediately regretting it as his cologne filled her nose. "Yeah, no kiddin', but it's your mistake and you need to stop draggin' me down with you." She jabbed her finger into his chest as she spoke.

"That's the problem, Reba. It's my mistake, but the biggest part of it has to do with you!"

She shoved past him, refusing to look him in the eye any longer. "I don't want to be a part of it anymore, Brock!" She cried as she spun back around to face him. "I can't." She chewed her lip. "You think this is easy for me, Brock? You left! You left. You don't get to come back here beggin' me for forgiveness."

He walked over and closed the door again then moved into living room more. "Reba, I'm not askin' you for forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. I'm just askin' you to talk. Therapy is forcin' me to be brutally honest with myself, I told you that."

"Yeah, you did. Now look where it's gotten us, Brock."

"I'm trying to fix it Reba, but I can't if you just keep slammin' doors in my face and tellin' me to leave."

She scoffed. "I do that because you have a marriage you need to be workin' on. You need to leave me out of it, I don't want to be involved. I'm not your concern anymore." She spat the words at him with more force than she had intended but he needed to get the point and get out of her house and if that's what it took to make it happen then she'd just have to live with that, even if it broke her heart.

"I'm not leavin', nothin' you can say is going to make me, not until we've fixed this. Until we both know where we stand." He squared up and walked towards her again.

"Oh," She said nodding as she moved back around the couch to put some distance between them. "Well, in that case, I'm gonna stand right here and you're gonna go to your own damn house and stand wherever the hell you want to, as long as it's away from me."

"Reba, c'mon be serious."

"I am being serious. I want you to leave and to leave me out of whatever mid-life crisis you're goin' through right now. Go talk about it with your wife." The words stung her lips but she knew she had to get them out. She had to get rid of him before she fell apart completely.

"Barbra Jean and I are completely separate from you and I." He stepped towards her and she moved away again. "Please, Honey, we need to figure this out." He almost begged.

Reba felt her whole body weaken. How could a man who had done her so completely wrong be doing this to her, making her want to work this through, force her to accept her own feelings, maybe even come to understand what he was going through? As much as she hated it, she knew he was right, she also knew how stubborn he was so she knew he wouldn't leave her house until they had talked.

Lord, she wished someone would come home, anyone. She wished Barbra Jean would walk in and ruin this moment just as she had done a few hours ago.

"Do not call me "Honey." I am not your Honey." Anymore, she thought and briefly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Please, Brock. Just let me go, leave me alone."

Brock sighed, he was getting nowhere with her. Why had he fallen for such an infuriatingly stubborn woman? He wasn't giving up, he would sleep on her couch if he had to, he wasn't leaving until she gave in and had a conversation with him.

"Okay." He said and took a seat on the couch.

"Okay? Brock, what are you doin', get out."

"No, I don't think so. I think I'm gonna stay here, in this chair, in this house until you decide to talk." He kicked his shoes off and set his feet, crossed at the ankle, on the coffee table. "What's for dinner?"

Reba rolled her eyes. You have got to be kidding me. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He looked back at her standing behind the couch. "Grab me a wine glass while you're up, I get the feelin' it's gonna be a long night."

Sighing, she rubbed her temple and stormed off into the kitchen in search of an advil. The was no way he'd stay the night, would he? No. She shook her head. He had to listen, he was trespassing. She could call the police. That's be a little extreme, but she could. Maybe she'd just threaten to call, maybe it would finally make him see that she didn't want to talk.

Reba filled herself a glass of water before she reached into the cupboard and grabbed down the bottle she was searching for. She unscrewed the lid and flicked two tablets into her hand before tossing them down her throat and taking a large gulp of water. "Wine, I need more wine." She mumbled and walked back into the living room where Brock was lounging.

"Did you get me a glass?"

"Get your own damn glass." She snapped and snatched hers off the coffee table along with the bottle of wine before turning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen.

Reba set her glass on the countertop and filled it. Setting the bottle down, she spun around to sit at the table and bumped directly into Brock who'd followed a little too closely behind her, now holding his own glass.

"Whoa!" She jumped as her chest and glass collided with him, spilling part of it contense over his shirt. "Damn it, Brock!"

"Shit." His hands grabbed her hips for a split second before he jumped, he pulled his red stained shirt from his body and grumbled. "Look what you did!"

"What I did? Why are you here? Why did you follow me, Brock?" She huffed.

"Oh, calm down, I can't talk to a hysterical woman."

"You're gettin' on my last damn nerve, Brock Enroll Hart. Watch it." She hissed. She set her glass down behind her and stepped forward to inspect his shirt. "This needs to be soaked."

"It's fine, I'll take care of it later."

She gritted her teeth and looked up at him. "It needs to be soaked, Brock. Now."

"Fine, fine." He took a step back and pulled the drenched shirt over his head, handing it to her.

Reba quickly snatched it from his hands and stomped out the kitchen door, leaving a half naked Brock behind her. She closed the garage door and leaned against it, letting out the breath she had been holding in.

Damn, he looked so good.

She only saw him for a second before she turned away, but that was more than enough to make her heart jump into her throat and her stomach churn with butterflies.

His hands had held her hips and her heart had stopped and for a fleeting moment she could've sworn he was going to kiss her. If only she hadn't been so clumsy and spilled wine all over his shirt.

Sighing, Reba composed herself as she got to work on it, setting it in cold water to pull the stain out, she swished it around in the basin, watching the red spill into the clear water, she then poured some detergent in before tidying the mess and heading back into her house. Where Brock was waiting. Half naked.