Wayne hovered, but it wasn't anything she hadn't asked of him. He'd been sleeping on their – dammit – her couch every night since, well, that. Gemma didn't want to acknowledge or accept having to be in the house alone yet, and besides, wasn't it better that Wayne slept on her couch instead of the dingy trailer her owned?
"Think I could get a moment alone with my wife?" The low, gravelly voice was all too familiar to Gemma as she walked through the hallway, folded and ironed clothes of Clay's in hand. Some habits she just couldn't kick.
Before Unser could even reply to the cutting inquisition that had come from the much larger man, it was Gemma who spoke. "Maybe when the bruises fade," she said whilst turning the clothes on their side and pressing them into Clay's chest. In her voice read bitterness, betrayal, sarcasm, and her normal defenses. It was a wonder she could portray so much in a sentence but there it was, and it left Clay speechless. Her eyes had drifted past him in the action but she dared not to look at his face, only the large expanse of his torso in her peripherals while she handed him his things.
It had to be this way.
Her body had begun to spin around in the other direction when Clay caught her wrist, expecting her to look at him. Gemma did, but there was such a rush of emotion that it genuinely frightened him. "Don'tlay a hand on me," she said, this time an even more cutting edge to her voice. She yanked her arm free of his grasp, and by the gritting of his teeth it was visible that Clay wanted to lash out. At the very least he'd want a shouting match like what they were used to, one that would end in frustration but also a mess of tangled limbs on the bed as a resolution.
Instead he lifted both of his hands, palms outward as if in a surrendering fashion. Because what could he do here? Fight her, again? Look at where that had gotten them. In fact, his features showed a crippling amount of pain as Gemma pulled from him.
When she heard the rustling that meant he was gathering his things and walking out, Gemma crooked a glance over her shoulder at the fading cut and gray hair. It was a long moment after the door closed behind him that anything was said. "You okay, honey?" Wayne finally spoke, the supportive friend as always but with that her head swung back in the direction of the hallway that she faced. In the process Gemma heaved a breath, her bottom lip quivering with that emotion that meant get the hell out now. So she batted at the air in Wayne's direction with one hand, walking several steps until she slammed the door of her bedroom behind her.