Players Only Love You When They're Playing: Stevie Nicks Fanfiction

My Little Stevie Lynn

Lindsey laid Sara down in the guest room and helped me onto the living room couch. The blanket from the closet adjacent from the entrance was draped over my body. How could he care this much after I left him for my best friend's husband? Did he love me? Love is being faithful, reliable, and caring, right? No. Love is what I felt with Lindsey five years ago. Giddy, eternal, puppy love. Did I love him still? Lindsey scooted my legs toward the back of the couch and sat in front of them. He laced his fingers with mine, like we used to do when we slept and his other hand pressed against my cheek. His crystal, blue eyes gazed down at me, piercing my soul. 

"You're safe now." he said. I had told Christine about how Kim favors Matthew and practically abuses Sara and me, whether it is physical or verbal. I've been so paranoid about my legs since the dream. Before Kim hurt me, I would check them before he woke up. I would always relive the dream about Mick and the hospital. Once he would maim me, I wouldn't have the same one. It was always him hurting Sara and but then him turning around and hurting me. "The night that you went to the hospital with Charlotte," Lindsey started, "I saw what you did before you thought that you woke me up. You checked your legs. Why?"

I sat up. "I had a dream that Mick and I had an affair and that you found out about it. You were so mad that I thought that I had to be punished, so I took a razor and cut my thigh. In the dream, I was rushed to the hospital and you were so cold. I really thought it happened for the longest time. I had to keep checking my legs until I knew it was real."

"What do you mean 'Knew it was real?'" he asked.

"Kim would hurt Sara and me. But it was nothing major. Normally it was just verbal." I assured him.

"Let me see your thighs, Stevie."

"What?" I took my hand away from his and covered my legs.

"Let me see your thighs." He grabbed my arm lightly and put them on his lap. He pulled down the blanket and lifted up my dress, but only enough to expose what he needed to see. "Oh Stevie." 

"It's Stephanie now and it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? It's purple and green and brown! If it's not that bad then tell me if this hurts." He pressed lightly onto a big bruise. I winced in pain. "Did he do anything this horrific to Sara?"

"No. No. He tried it once but I slapped him. So he's been punishing me ever since."

"Oh, honey." He pulled me in for a hug. "Does Chris know?"

"I didn't tell her. I don't want her to worry." He pushed me back lightly on my arm.

"Stevie, it's are job to worry. We care to much about you."

"I told you, it's Stephanie now."

"No, it's not. You are Stevie Lynn Nicks! I don't know if Kim didn't called you Stevie to separate you from the world or whatever twisted reason he did it, but you are Stevie not Stephanie."

"I don't know if you noticed this but I'm 37. Stevie was the 25 year old girl who you dated in Fleetwood Mac. Stephanie is the mother of two and fifteen pounds overweight, with stretchmarks that look like the Grim Reaper. I don't know what you expect me to think. I have been called a worthless Jessabelle and God knows what behind my back for four years. Lindsey I don't know." The hot tears streamed down my face. Lindsey's hand returned to my cheek again to catch them. His other hand was gripped around the back of my head and drawn to his chest. "I want to relive the last night with you again. No fooling around, just you holding me in your arms. Forget all the bs. Just be here with me."

"You are still the girl I fell in love with 12 years ago. The girl who looks totally different today. The girl that had a beautiful baby and the proof of it. You look radiant and from what I saw your stomach doesn't look like death nor do you. No matter how old you get, whatever you call yourself, you will always, always, be Stevie Lynn to me. My little Stevie Lynn." He leaned back onto the couch talking me with him.