Chapter Twenty-Three

Claire waited for John to start the shower, before she went back downstairs to grab one of the donuts that her father had bought then for breakfast. "He's fine." She reported to her mother, snatching a donut for herself. "He's just a little stressed out."

Clarissa nodded, starting to sniff the air around Claire. "Was he smoking pot?" She asked, smelling Claire's blouse.

Claire ducked her head, taking a huge bite of the chocolate glazed pastry. "Yeah…"

Mrs. Standish sighed, turning her head toward the staircase. "Well… I'll give him a break this time." She knew that he'd been trying to get clean, but she also knew that he was under a lot of pressure. Not to mention the fear that must have been coursing through his mind. She hated that he was being forced into this, but there was really nothing she could do. She only hoped that tomorrow things would work out in the end. "Poor baby." She knew that John hated the sympathy that everyone gave him, but she just couldn't help it. He'd been almost a month sober, and now he'd have to start from scratch. "I wish we could do more."

Claire nodded, finishing off her donut as she heard a loud thud from the bathroom followed by a string of profanity. She looked to her mother, attempting to hide her smile. "I bet he dropped the shampoo bottle."

They both burst out laughing, and Claire realized for the first time just how much John was helping her family when they were trying to help him. Her mother actually seemed happier, and her parents had stopped using her to get back at each other, and the fighting was almost nonexistent.

"I really like him Mom." She smiled, listening for the shower to turn off.

Clarissa nodded, turning back to the dinner she was cooking. "Me too, Sweets." She grinned as she used John's nickname for her.

Finally, the morning of court arrived, but with it, came the crippling anxiety of facing the people who had beaten John into submission. The whole family was on edge, the tension so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

That is, until Claire found the ink bomb in her makeup drawer. All John heard was a scream and the thought 'oh shit' passed through his head, before a steaming mad Claire burst through his door, with purple ink staining her dress. "Johnathan!"

He'd been wondering why that hadn't gone off yet, and now he knew why. That was Claire's makeup drawer, and since she never wore makeup anymore, it had gone off on the one day that none of them needed it to. "Claire…" He backed himself up to a wall, his arms instinctively covering his stomach and chest. "I, I thought that that was your mom's makeup…" He started looking for a way out, his fear rising like a title wave.

She glared at him, for a moment before shaking her head. "That would have been funnier if it was her." She smiled, a little laugh bouncing in her chest. "You're still an asshole though."

John smirked, relaxing slightly. That is, until he started attempting to tie his necktie on. "How the hell… does this work?" He asked, as he failed for the third time.

Claire rolled her eyes, taking the tie in her nimble fingers. "Here." She slipped the knot up toward his neck, catching a glimpse of a thin scar under his jaw. "It's easy really."

He gave a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he looked in his mirror, hardly recognizing himself. "I look like a richie." He growled, messing with the gold cufflinks on his wrists.

"I'm gonna go change." She turned to go to her room. "Don't ruin your suit."