Goodnight, Beautiful.

Bristol had landed in Philly hours before any of the guys were scheduled to return. She stood up, still in shock from the previous night’s game, and collected her carry-on bag from the compartment overhead. Slinging the strap of her purse over her chest, Bristol turned off her iPod and shoved it into the front pocket. Her own decision to book such an early was still unknown to her; Bristol would much rather still be sleeping seeing as to how she joined a few of the guys last night as they drank their sorrows and disappointment away. Bristol knew it was never easy being eliminated from the playoffs, but being swept seemed to carry more of an emotional burden.

Even at eight AM, men in business suites rushed past Bristol as they raced to catch connecting flights. Mother’s soothed tired and cranky babies and teenagers dressed scantily in Daisy Dukes and tank-tops were surely off to enjoy the sun on a tropical island. At baggage claim, Bristol nearly fell asleep standing up as she waited for her bag to come around, and when it finally did, she acted quick so she wouldn’t be stuck there longer than she had to.

She decided she'd have her own pity-party when she arrived home. A hot bath full of bubbles and a day of chick-flicks and ice cream seemed about perfect. She had no idea whether Daniel was planning to come home or not. A fight just hours before the game escalated to the point where Bristol threatened to return home to Chicago and Daniel hadn't seemed to eager to stop her. As far as she was concerned, he was spending a few more days in Boston before heading to NYC to party it up with friends he had in the area. That's what the argument had been about; Bristol wanted Daniel to fly back to Philly with her, but he wasn't interested in spending quality alone time with her. It upset Bristol knowing he'd rather get shit-faced with his friends and playmates. And, she still had a tweet from Daniel's twitter account weighting heavy on her mind.

weigh in on this. When a girl leans back while fingers r in her and says "my daddy would b so proud of me" ..turn on or no??

Bristol knew it wasn't her daddy whom Daniel was making proud.

Outside, the sky above didn't match her mood. The sun was shining bright and not a cloud could be seen for miles. It was going to be a hot one, the humidity was high and already Bristol could feel the beads of sweat begin to form on the back of her neck. Had she have been made up and pretty, it wouldn't have taken her nearly five minutes to get a cab. It often surprised Bristol at how shallow cab drivers could be.

When she arrived home, she paid the fair and tipped the driver after he helped retrieve her bags from the trunk. Bristol could tell things were slowly beginning to spiral out of hand. When she walked into the house, the blankets and pillows which Daniel had used to sleep on the couch the night before they left for Boston were still draped over the furniture. Framed photos of the two of them together had been turned towards the wall on the mantel. And, when Bristol opened the fridge and found their food to be separated into "his" and "hers" piles, she knew it was serious. It was déjà vu; this was how things began right before she left her husband.

Bristol grabbed an energy drink from the shelf and closed the fridge with her foot. She had a long day ahead of her; a long day of crying. Moving in together had surely put strain on them. Daniel wasn't the type of man who could be tied down. He was his own man and did what he wanted on his own time and by his own rules. Bristol could say she was the same way; but she was a woman and she wanted what she had been dreaming of since she was five years old. A handsome, loving husband and eventually a baby. She may not have wanted six little ones anymore, that dream went away around 10-years-old, but there was no doubting that "empty womb" feeling she was beginning to get. At twenty-four, most women told Bristol she was crazy for wanting a family so young, but she had grown up in a young family herself.

Upstairs in their bedroom, Bristol flipped on the television as she hoisted her suitcases onto the bed. She might as well begin unpacking now. Besides, if things kept going as they were, she may be packing again soon to head home for the summer. She wasn't going to stick around in Philly if it meant she'd be there alone. But, she stopped herself from thinking about North Avenue beach when she remembered the promise she had made to the Briere boys. She promised to accompany them on their annual summer, weekend trip to the Jersey Shore. It may have only been two hours away, but Bristol could tell it was something they looked forward to every year. She at least had to stick around until then; Bristol would never forgive herself if she broke the boy’s hearts. She had broken too many promises to her younger brothers and she now felt she had a second chance to make it all up with Caelan, Carson and Cameron. Plus, she couldn't begin to imagine how bad it would hurt Danny.

Tossing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket, Bristol pushed it aside as she picked up her phone and stared at it. She felt guilty of the things she had said to Dan. Subconsciously she knew he loved her more than she could imagine, but she was so pissed off at him for what he had said, part of her didn't mind if she never saw his face again.

Bristol wanted to call him, wanted to say she was sorry but her pride got in the way. She was the kind of girl who had a hard time apologizing if she felt strongly she had been right. Moreover, in this situation she didn’t doubt she was. Dan had brought it upon himself. Flopping down on the bed and smashing her face in the pillow, Bristol let out a frustrated scream and wondered why the hell she never fell for the safe and secure guys, who had most of their priorities straight. Men like Danny Briere.
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She was waiting for him when he arrived home from New York a week later. Bristol sat on the couch in old sweat pants and a University of Notre Dame tee. Her cheeks were stained with tears, her eyes were red and swollen and her head was pounding. With her knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting on them, Bristol hadn’t moved from that position in nearly five hours.

The lights were off and gave Daniel the impression she wasn’t there. He figured she was out with Kris for a drink, and would call her to see where they should meet up, but with the news of a possible suspension hanging over his head, all he wanted was a quiet night with his girl. When he called out her name, there was no response. Instead, he found Bristol curled up on the couch. Dropping his bags on the floor, Daniel moved fast to be by her side and pulled Bristol to her feet before hugging her tight. He could feel her go limp in his arms as her tears dampened the shoulder of his shirt.

Rubbing her back, Daniel tried his best to sooth his hysteric girlfriend. There were pangs of guilt in his gut for he had no idea if it had been he who created her depression. He could hear her start to calm down, the sobs had since stopped and now all that was left were the sounds of her hiccupping. Slowly stepping back, Daniel held a grip on her biceps, as he looked her over. Bristol looked out of it; her mind in its own world, her stare was blank. She was trying to hold back another round of tears. It was clear she was growing tired of crying but there was no way to hold back.

“I’m leaving for Chicago in the morning,” she wiggled her way out of Dan’s grip and fell back onto the sofa.

Dan sat next her, grabbed her hand and found himself becoming nervous when she didn’t squeeze back. “Bristol, what the hell is going on? You’re starting to scare me.”

She continued to stare straight ahead. The painting nailed to the wall seemed to have grabbed her attention. Daniel could feel his heart begin to pound within his chest as the anxiety grew. Was she leaving him? Had someone told her? He was sure it had been Briere. “Baby, what the fuck is going on? Why are you leaving in the morning?”

“He’s gone.” Her tone was apathetic. No emotion. One, single tear slid down her cheek as she blinked.

Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Daniel grabbed Bristol by the shoulders and tried to make sense of the zombie in front of him. This was not his Bristol. “Who’s gone?”

“Matt called me a few hours go,” A little color started coming back to Bristol’s cheeks. They were lightly tinted rosy, as she seemed to come out of comatose state her mind had been in. Slowly but surely she was beginning to make sense again. “My younger brother, Nick, died yesterday from an overdose. I have no idea how this happened, I just saw him two weeks ago and he was fine. He promised he was clean and I believed him.”

Dan grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her into his chest again. When he felt no tears dampen the fabric he realized she had no tears left to cry. Anger in his chest had begun to rise. He was angry with himself. He had been partying out of his mind in New York for the past seven days and here was the love of his life, curled on the couch by herself as she grieved the loss of her younger brother. From the stories Bristol had told him, the two had been close—not as close as she and Matt—until the drugs took over.

“I am so sorry.” There was nothing he could really say to her, he had fucked up beyond sorry and knew there was only one-way to make it up. As much as he wanted to stay home, sleep in his bed and lounge on the couch in his boxers, he would fly out there with her. There was no possible way Daniel could leave Bristol to handle it on her own. Especially after he had left for a week on her own. As much as he hated to admit Scott was right, it was time for him to step up and be the man Bristol needed him to be. And, he just hoped the Tiffany’s box in his suitcase would show Bristol just how serious he is.