him. “You were nasty, that's different. It could have happened to any of us. He was swept away by a glamorous crowd, who were out to use him. Are you so sure you're invulnerable to that?” she asked him pointedly, and he insisted it could never happen to him, but Alex knew better. But it was her attitude that worried Brock. He didn't like the things she said, or the way she said them.
“Why are you defending him?” he asked, looking suddenly worried. “Are you still in love with him?” His eyes bore into hers. He was the prosecutor and she was the defendant.
“I don't think so,” she said honestly, wanting to be fair to both of them. “I care about him. I'm sorry about what happened.”
“Don't you think he deserved it?” Brock pressed. They were alone in her apartment after Annabelle had left with Sam, and Brock wasn't going to let go of the issues. He wanted to know what she was feeling.
“No, I don't think he deserved it,” Alex said sadly. “It's right for him to lose his business, and his job … his standing in the community …even his reputation. He was foolish, he hurt a lot of people by being blind to what the others were doing. But he shouldn't go to prison for that, Brock, no more than he should for failing me …it's not right. I just don't think he deserves that.”
“You're too soft,” Brock said, watching her carefully, and then slowly he went to her, and put his arms around her. “I guess that's why I love you,” and then he closed his eyes and pulled her so tightly against him she could hardly breathe. “I don't want to lose you, that's all. That's what this is all about for me … I keep hearing what you're saying about him, and seeing something in your eyes that still hurts for him. It's not over yet, no matter what you say. He still lives in your heart somewhere …maybe that's normal after eighteen years, and a little girl … I don't know … I just don't want to lose you,” he said again, and kissed her. And when they came up for air, she smiled at him, and touched his lips with a gentle finger.
“You won't, Brock. I love you.” And she meant it.
“But you love him too,” he said wisely, and this time she didn't deny it.
“Maybe I do, and I don't know it. I don't love him in a romantic sense. But I love who he was, and what we had. We were together for a long time. I thought we had it all …and then everything fell apart. It was hard to understand that.” They shared a blood bond by now, like members of the same family, that was near impossible to sever. “I feel his pain. I think I understand what he did. I know what he's feeling. It's hard to explain that to someone else, or to stop feeling it just because things have changed between us.”
“Are you sure they have?” he asked softly.
“Positive,” she said firmly. “I'm not his wife now. I'm someone different than I was before. I don't know …I'm not sure you can ever go back, after all that happened to us. You can only go forward.” And she had, into Brock's arms, but she was not his wife either. She was no one's. She was her own, for the first time in years, and as lonely as it had been for a while, now at times she even liked it. She had the best of both worlds. A sense of herself she'd never had before, and Brock, whom she loved deeply.
“Just let me know if anything changes,” he said simply, watching her eyes, and only somewhat reassured by what he saw there. He knew she was torn by everything she was feeling. She felt sorry for Sam, and loyalty to Brock. And in her own way, she loved both of them, and Annabelle, and she wanted what was right for everyone. Sometimes that wasn't easy.
“Don't say things like that,” she chided him. “Nothing's going to change. It's just going to be a hard time for him, and I'd like to at least be supportive.”
“Why? He didn't support you last year. Why should this be any different?”
“Maybe for old times' sake.” But Brock wanted that with her. He wanted the same ancient bond that tied her to Sam even now, even from a distance.