Bright orange sunrays spilled in through the cracks in the curtains, prying Gemma's eyes open. Goddamnit, she thought immediately, squinting towards the window. She shifted uncomfortably; the bed still felt unfamiliar to her. She copped a cigarette from the pack on the bedside table and stuck it between her lips, lighting it as she half-listened to the faint sound of chatter among the Diosa girls downstairs. Nero laid sleeping at her side.
The sun was only part of the cause; Gemma mostly blamed her early rising on the recurring dream she'd been having, the one she had again that night.
The one with Clay.
The dream was more abstract than anything else; just a series of images that swirled through her mind, each memory playing as if from a film strip. Gemma didn't think it unusual for Clay to pop up in her subconscious; it had been a while since she resigned herself to the fact that her estranged husband wasn't going to be easy to shake. But that was another story. It annoyed her that these unconscious trips down memory lane were preventing her from getting a truly restful sleep.
"Something wrong, babe?"
Nero's voice jolted Gemma from her thoughts. He rolled over onto his back, yawning groggily and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Nah," she said before taking another drag. "I'm okay. I just, I should get to the garage."
Nero frowned in confusion, reaching over her to grab his cell phone. "Damn, it's only 7:30. A'int that a bit early?"
"Not really," Gemma said coolly. "A new list of repos came in late last night."
She leaned in to give Nero a quick peck on the lips and rose from the bed to walk over to the bathroom, saying, "I'm gonna go get ready," over her shoulder. Of course she left out the part of how she was going to head over to Clay's house before the garage. Nero wouldn't understand the reasons; too much of a family burden to lay on him at this stage. Gemma had to face it: she messed up badly with Jax and Tara. And Jax made it clear last night that there is only one way to get back into his family's life.
Closing the bathroom door behind her, she ashed her cigarette in the tray and shook her head at the sight of last night's outfit, which was strewn messily on the floor. Gemma looked up to catch her reflection in the smudged mirror. The woman staring back at her was barely recognizable: hair a wild mess, leftover mascara caked all around her eyes, hickey marks littering her neck. "Jesus Christ," she muttered to herself as she used her hand to thread through the tangly strands. It just wasn't cool anymore. A few weeks ago, maybe, but now she just felt borderline pathetic.
Gemma dressed quickly and exited the bathroom to find Nero standing by the little kitchen. He handed her a cup of fresh coffee.
"Black. Lots of sugar," he said, echoing her words from their first morning together three weeks ago.
"Thanks," Gemma said.
She was back in Charming about twenty minutes later, stealthily approaching the garage. The Teller-Morrow sign peered out at her from afar. Gemma gunned the gas to keep driving onward, her hair silently blowing out the open window. The garage faded into her background as quickly as it had come into view.
***BREAK***
It felt odd to knock at the door, but she did it anyway, taking one last drag from her cigarette while she waited for an answer.
Clay opened the door, a towel slung over his right shoulder and a gun in his hand.
"Gemma," he said hoarsely, fatigue still coating his throat. "What's wrong?"
"Hey. Nothing," she said, using her boot to crumble the butt of her cigarette into ash. Gemma stared up at him blankly, suddenly distracted by a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach (which she immediately attributed to nerves, and not to the way he looked in that black wife beater).
Clay just stared back at her, his tall figure taking up most of the door frame.
"You wanna invite me in?" Gemma said impatiently with a hand on her hip.
Smilingly, he said, "Of course," and moved aside to let her pass. He placed the gun down on top of a stack of boxes and closed the door behind her.
Gemma's heels clicked on the tile as she walked the length of the foyer, eyes examining Clay's new house for the first time. It felt nothing like the home they'd created together, which saddened her more than she cared to admit-that things had changed so drastically.
Don't get caught up in sentimental bullshit, she mentally scolded herself. This is supposed to serve a purpose.
"So," she said as she stared out the small kitchen window, feeling a bit of a loss for words. It might have been a good idea to come up with a reason for this visit before you showed up, Gemma thought. She turned around to face him.
"I got a few boxes of Luann's stuff in storage that I need to go through for Tara. She's putting together some care package for Otto or somethin'. Anyway," she sighed, "I can't find my key to the storage locker. Was wondering if you had one."
Gemma hoped the lie wasn't too obvious. The objective was to make Clay comfortable, not suspicious.
"Sure," Clay said. "I can get that for ya."
"Thanks."
She watched him walk past her and into the kitchen. His aftershave scented the air. She felt a dull ache in her chest.
"So," he said as he walked back towards her, fingering his keyring. "You up this early just for Tara?"
Gemma smirked. "That so hard to believe?"
"Nah, it's not that. I've just never known you to be up before 10 on a Saturday."
"Oh," Gemma said.
"I just know you love that. Sleeping in on the weekend."
"Yeah. I haven't been sleeping that well, lately, actually." Those damn dreams, she thought.
He handed her the key.
"Maybe you've been sleepin' in the wrong bed," he said softly.
A bold statement for sure, he had to have known that. Gemma had made it perfectly clear that they were separated and she was free to do as she pleased.
But in that moment, there was just something about the intimacy with which he spoke to her, in that low, throaty voice that always dripped with raw masculinity, that triggered something inside Gemma. Desire overwhelmed her, literally propelling her into his arms.
Gemma felt the breath being knocked out of him in surprise, but she couldn't stop her lips from crashing down onto his. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she gripped the back of his neck for support. He quickly got his bearings and held onto her body to keep her from falling, his hands moving down her lower backside.
"Gem!" he said roughly into her mouth. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, feigning innocence.
Clay wasn't about to protest any further.
Their kiss deepening, they fell together on the couch, and it was such a fluid motion, one that had been done countless times before, his body on top of hers, his hands on her face, always on her face. Feeling his breath on her neck, Gemma's hips canted up, desperate for friction.
"Clay?" Juice called from down the hall. "Who was at the-oh, shit!" The box Juice was carrying tumbled out of his hands and onto the floor as soon as he saw Gemma and Clay pressed together on the couch, all mussed hair and heavy breathing.
Gemma lifted her head to look over Clay's shoulder.
"Oh, mornin', sweetheart," she said to Juice nonchalantly. "You mind takin' off?"
"Yes, absolutely," Juice said, eyes darting around to anything besides Gemma and Clay. "I mean no, I don't mind. I'll just, uh, I'll see ya later, Clay, arite?"
Juice scooped up his kutte from the back of the kitchen chair and practically stumbled out the door.
"Thanks, Juicy," Clay said as he lifted his body up and off Gemma, settling himself to lean seated against the arm of the couch. Gemma, too, got up, smoothing her hair and crossing her legs.
The sound of Juice's engine as he sped away made both Clay and Gemma laugh, defusing the intensity of the last few moments.
"He's a delicate one, a'int he?" Gemma said.
Clay smirked back. "Yeah."
They sat quietly for a moment.
"Gem," he said carefully. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see ya. But, why are you really here?"
"I told you. Luann. Otto. The storage key." Gemma spoke in fragments, too tired to recant the lie in its entirety.
Clay stayed silent, just slightly nodded his head in acknowledgement.
"And I guess," she suddenly added, "I also came by because I miss you." That wasn't a lie.
"Jesus Christ, baby," Clay said, exasperated. "I miss you right now and you're right goddamn next to me."
Gemma didn't respond, couldn't, her throat catching in a potential sob. She had to get out of there.
"I should really get going," she said, rising to stand.
"Oh," he said as he stood up, too. "Sure you can't stay a while? We can put on a pot of coffee, just talk." He winked at her, inched closer. "I'm sure Juice won't be back anytime soon," he said, blue eyes crinkling into a familiar smile.
Gemma smiled back. "I really can't," she said as she scooped up her purse from the couch. "But I'll, uh, I'm sure I'll see you later, okay?"
She placed a hand softly on his chest, letting it rest there for only a moment before she continued to walk away.
"Yeah," Clay said, a hint of defeat in his voice as he watched her walk out the door. "Okay."
Gemma whipped her Caddy out of the driveway and sped down the block, intent on catching Jax at the garage. Goddamnit, she thought. She was definitely going to have to figure out a way out of this one.