Gray's breakfast had helped a bit with his hangover, but a nagging headache still remained as he averted his eyes from the bright lights of the shop. He frowned, leafing through the carefully folded squares of fabric. He lifted one by the corner, staring at the plaid pattern with a frown.

Maybe...

He set it to the side and continued to flip through them.

"Hey. I'm not in the mood for refolding all of those handkerchiefs. Pick one already." Karen's voice was more amused than critical as she leaned on the shelf behind him.

The young man sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking. "Well, which one do you think is best?"

Karen shrugged. "What's your favorite color?"

He shook his head, the pounding in his head returning. "It's not for me. I'm getting one for Claire."

Her eyebrows and tone of voice both rose with interest. "Oh?"

He tugged down on the bill of his hat, but it was too late; he could feel that his ears were turning red. "I, uh... I'm trying to get better at talking to people. I'm going to apologize, but I figured I'd have better luck if I didn't show up empty-handed." He grimaced, knowing she was waiting for a more thorough explanation. "I kinda snapped at her when she was just trying to help... I know she wasn't meaning to pry." His voice grew softer. "I... I gotta stop doing this to everyone – exploding and losing my temper."

Her instinct to protect her best friend kicked in. Karen opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped herself.

"I... wanted to thank her for her help, too... All her handkerchiefs are stained."

A rueful smile crossed Karen's lips. "They are. I don't know how she can tell which ones are clean, honestly. That's actually really thoughtful of you. I didn't think of you as the type to notice those kinds of things."

Her smile faded at his cold stare.

"It was a compliment." She rolled her eyes.

"A backhanded one."

She was taken aback. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry." His gloomy behavior hadn't been hard to miss.

"S'okay..." Gray's eyes moved back to the display. "I suck with words, so it's easier for me to do stuff like this, y'know?" There was an awkward silence as he continued sorting through the fabric. "She said she likes amethysts – light purple... I don't see anything here that color..."

The tension she was holding in her shoulders faded as she relaxed a bit. "Claire also likes pinks, yellows, and soft green. She won't admit it out loud, but the more cutesy, the better. I mean, she's pretty obvious about it."

Obvious to you, maybe...

He picked up a pink gingham cloth embroidered with strawberries and received a grin and nod in approval. Her laugh was sharp, and it attracted a few pairs of eyes.

"Perfect!"

He snorted. "She's going to stain it in a week."

Karen shook her head. "She'll probably use it more carefully. Just because she's a farmer doesn't mean she can't have nice things. She does deserve to have something that isn't stained."

He turned it over in his hands. "It is pretty cute, I guess." He said the word like it was bitter in his mouth, but his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He had used the same word in his mind to describe Claire when they had first met. "Anyway, thanks. Wish me luck."

Karen gave him a knowing look. "We have some cute gift wrap if you wanna make it special."

Gray rolled his eyes with a snort. "Nice try, but I'm not going to fall for that upcharge. Paper bag's fine."

She melodramatically sulked in response. "You're taking away all the suspense in opening the gift, though."

"I'm sure she'll live."

Karen chuckled. "You're lucky Claire's not picky."

Gray turned around, his breath leaving his body he saw Anna rifling through some greeting cards. She was looking through them and flipping through them a little too quickly to feel natural. Her eyes flicked upward and he felt his blood run cold when they met his.

I guess she knows about the breakup... I shouldn't be surprised...

"Gray!" Karen's voice caught his attention.

He gulped, unsure if he should say anything to Anna.

"She likes chocolate, too~!" Karen sang. "Claire likes dark chocolate best. You better not show up with milk chocolate or she'll give you the stink eye!"

Gray felt his heart sink.

Of all the times...

Anna raised a single eyebrow. "Best listen to your friend. You wouldn't want to get the stink eye, would you?" Her painted lips were pulled into a tight false smile. "Why, I couldn't possibly think of anything worse."

Cliff took his time making his way down the stairs to the wine cellar with Duke. The familiar floorboards creaked under their steps, and the scent of fermenting fruit, yeast, and oak greeted his nostrils. He had been eager to throw himself into his usual work – studying and recording the fermentation logs and checking the pressure gauges on the distillers. Siphoning wine, adding labels – anything, really – but busy work was preferred. He was disappointed when Duke kicked out a couple of stools out by a small table and offered him a seat.

He could feel his pulse picking up already as he accepted the stool, his mind silently screaming at him as he willed his joints to cooperate, lowering himself onto the seat.

Duke turned to one of the barrels behind them and poured a couple of glasses from the tap. The sound of liquid being poured from the tap had grown familiar and Cliff had to admit he missed it a little. It was a tinkling, musical, melody he had begun to associate with the relief after a hard day's work. Duke often celebrated the end of the work day with a small glass of wine, and while Cliff didn't take up the offer nearly as much as it was given to him, the sound still brought a certain level of satisfaction and comfort to him.

Still, it's way too early for...

Refusal remained on the tip of his tongue as a small tumbler was set in front of him. The words remained caught in his throat when Duke took a seat across from him, toasting before he could get a word in edgewise.

"To your health, Cliff."

The young man awkwardly clanked his glass against his employer's with a frown. Though soft and wavering, he found his voice. "I-I really shouldn't be..."

He was given a laugh in response, interrupting him.

"The doc's barring you from grape juice?"

Cliff didn't realize he was suspiciously sniffing the liquid in his glass until he heard Duke burst into laughter.

"You really think I'd serve you alcohol before eleven o'clock?"

If there was one thing Cliff had learned throughout all of his travels, it was that sometimes saying nothing was the best policy. That, accompanied by the ability to mask his facial expressions, although his time in Mineral Town seemed to be wearing down at that skill. He dodged the question by raising the glass to his lips and letting it touch the tip of his tongue.

He felt his lips upturn as he contemplated the flavors. Sweet, fresh, tangy... definitely not fermented.

"Ah, this is a nice batch."

The smug grin on Duke's face had said plenty. "Of course it is. Would you really expect anything less from us? Besides, making grape juice is child's play."

Nothing could be heard but the sounds of fermentation and Cliff stared at the juice in his glass, avoiding Duke's gaze. Cliff was aware that his employers had different ways of attempting to wheedle information out of him. Manna's quickfire, flitting questions were generally harmless and easy to dodge. Still, due to their sheer quantity, Cliff typically wound up answering more questions than he had anticipated. Her conversations were a dance that she insisted on leading, and the young man attempted to twist and turn with her, providing vague answers over the past couple of months to keep her from delving too deeply – after all, he had become fairly adept in dodging questions over the years. He had known her well enough to understand that she would never be satisfied, but there were a few topics she surprisingly didn't touch at all, and among those was his family.

Cliff realized that was likely due to Duke's approach shortly after he was employed. Remembering the stressful questioning about his parents and the correct guess that he was a runaway still put Cliff on edge when he thought about it. Duke's method was blunt and direct – he went straight for the jugular. As they sat in silence, Cliff couldn't help but wonder what kind of questions awaited him.

Duke finished his juice, this expression contemplative. "It's been... so quiet around here since you were admitted. Even Manna didn't have much to say most days... at least not out loud. You know how unusual that is for her."

There was none of the usual humor detected in his voice; Cliff shrank down in his seat. "I'm really sorry for causing everyone so much trouble."

Duke dismissed this with the wave of a hand. "Don't be sorry, kid. It's just been a long time since me and Manna have had someone we felt responsible for."

Duke was aware of the way Cliff's brow was creasing under his thick bangs.

"It's a nice feeling to have that again, so I'm not about to complain about it."

Cliff opened his mouth to protest, but the sentimental look on Duke's face only increased as he stood up with a start. Pushing a work table off to the side, Cliff listened to it groan as it was shoved along the floorboards.

"Now, she used to be pretty decent at this."

As Duke moved items out of the way, Cliff's eyes were drawn to the same object that his employer's gaze was locked onto. A worn oak cabinet was fastened to the wall that was shared with a calendar, some recipes, and a chart of measurements that were tacked up for reference. A worn coat of arms adorned both oaken doors, featuring a stag rearing on its hind legs amid a red and white color scheme. The image had chipped with age, and the varnish had worn off on the inside corners of the doors. Cliff never paid the piece much notice before, as it was a similar oak that filled the wine cellar and had a tendency to blend in. The image of the stag had caught his eye subconsciously and he knew that it looked familiar to him for longer than he had been employed at the winery.

Cliff finished his glass of juice and stood up.

She?

The cabinet doors were opened with a soft creak. "Doug had it this set up at his place for a long time."

Cliff recognized the contents as soon as it was open. A bull's eye target, a couple of sets of darts, a chalkboard. One side read in an unfamiliar hand Duke, the other...

Aja.

Duke had a pleased look on his face, but a trained ear could hear the strain in his voice. "Just need to find something to wipe it clean..."

Cliff's feet refused to move; it didn't feel like a task meant for him.

Duke produced a rag and dampened it under the sink. He quickly wiped the scores in both columns away with what Cliff was sure was meant to be a jovial chuckle. There was a hollowness to it that left the air heavy. Duke's name remained on the chalkboard in Aja's loopy scrawl, and Cliff couldn't help but notice how carefully he wiped the numbers around the letters. There were a few moments of silence before Duke scrubbed away his daughter's name, staring at the chalkboard with anguished eyes. Blinking, he searched for a piece of chalk and scribbled down Cliff's name in his usual sloppy hand, all letters capitalized. He remained in front of the board, and it wasn't hard for Cliff to guess where his eyes were focused.

"You ever play?" Duke didn't turn to face him; he was studying the handwriting as if to etch it into his mind.

Cliff shook his head. A few of the bars he had stopped in to warm up during his travels had boards mounted to the wall, and there were sometimes a few people wagering a friendly game of darts.

"I don't know how the scoring works, but I've seen people play."

Duke retrieved a handsome emerald-colored set of darts and stepped back to a worn piece of tape on the floor Cliff hadn't been aware of until then. Duke hesitated before handing him a set of his own, twirling one of the darts in his fingers with a sad smile.

"I'll go first and give you an idea of how it goes."

Cliff's eyes were drawn to the darts that had been given to him. Holographic purple butterflies and a stylized capital letter a decorated the flights; it couldn't be more obvious who used them most frequently.

"Alright, it's been a hot minute for me, so I'm gonna warm up. Used to play all the time at Doug's back in the day. Me, Manna, Jeff, Sasha, Rod... Heck, even Gotz and Hilda would join sometimes. We'd play regularly." He twirled the dart by the barrel between his thumb and index fingers, watching the flight reflect the light from above them. "Ah, simpler times, for sure..."

He threw his first dart and Cliff wasn't sure if it was a particularly good throw or not. It was closer to the center of the target, but the curse mumbled under Duke's breath indicated that didn't necessarily make it a good shot. He waited for Duke to explain the scoring, but his mind was clearly focused on something else.

"Got a little harder to play once everyone started having kids... Once Ann got a little older and more active, it was hard to keep her out of the bar at night. Poor girl would get nightmares near nightly, so Doug tried to keep her behind the bar where he could keep an eye on her."

Another toss. The smirk on Duke's lips told Cliff it was a decent one.

"Ann is Doug's daughter, but... she's got a lot of honorary godparents. We all look after our own, so when Felicity passed, everyone did their best to help Doug keep it together. Losing a family member... it's hell."

Duke threw the final dart and it missed the board completely, landing right between the eyes of the illustration of a snowman on the calendar.

"Sorry there, Frosty. Guess we're havin' snow cones tonight." He retrieved the dart and turned around, his dark eyes boring into Cliff. "But I guess I don't need to tell you how rough it is, huh?"

Cliff's knees felt a bit weak. He had recalled exactly how his mother's voice had sounded, something he had previously thought lost. "It's been on my mind a lot lately," he confessed.

"So I've heard. Parents and sister, huh? I imagine that's a bit of a one-two punch..."

The chill of the wine cellar crept into Cliff's veins. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, you know how I like to keep myself informed." Duke turned around to see him gripping the edge of the table to stabilize himself; the young man's knuckles were as white as his face.

"Who told you? … about Ivy? I know I never did."

"So that's her name..." If Duke paid attention to the violated look he was given, he didn't show it. "I heard from Doug what happened the day you were admitted. Ann was all worked up because you had confused her with your sister-"

"The details of my past aren't gossip fodder for the rest of y'all to spread around as you please!" Both the volume and twang in his own voice caused him to flinch.

"Is... that why you never talk about yourself?"

Anger boiled in Cliff's chest. "I'm not stupid! I know people talk!" Cold sweat trickled down his brow and his knees felt weak as his heart hammered unnaturally. "And... it sounds like…" Cliff struggled to catch his breath, his eyes whirling about the room, "that's all y'all did while I was in the hospital!"

Duke's eyes were wide as he hurried to him, slapping the darts on a nearby counter top. "Sit."

Cliff didn't need coaxing to let himself collapse onto a stool with fatigue.

Duke pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dotting his brow. "Deep breaths, son." A heavy, strong hand was placed in the middle of his back.

Cliff's eyes slid shut as he slowed his breathing. A second large, warm hand was placed over his heart. A solid hand on either side of him had a stabilizing affect.

"No one's trying to hurt you. We were all checking on you because we care. We look after our own."

The words were a reflex. "But I'm not from-"

"Don't give a shit," Duke interrupted, his words soft. He wrapped him into a hug. "I'll knock it into your thick skull one way or another – we're not gonna let you be lonely."

Breathing slowly became easier, but the lump that formed in Cliff's throat made it hard to speak. "Please... don't send me back to the inn."

Duke's laugh came out as a bark. "That's the first thing that comes to mind? What are me and Manna going to do with you?"

Cliff shook his head, his shaggy bangs concealing his eyes. "You don't have to do anything."

Duke stood back up with a smirk. "And here I had you pegged for a good listener."

The young man looked up at him, eyes wide and face flushed.

"Ah, don't give me that look! It's important to know your limits."

Cliff sourly thought of several evenings, particularly in spring and summer when he was returning from hunting and foraging. Little time was spent socializing, and he would often come back to the inn and go straight to his room. Many a time he had opened the door of the inn to find a Duke who had definitely forgotten what his limits were. The playful, tipsy phase of his inebriation had long since passed, and the man was left a gloomy, stubborn mess. Those memories had brought mild annoyance or second hand embarrassment at the time, but thinking about them now just caused Cliff's heart to ache.

"Scoring's not too hard." Duke's voice cut into Cliff's memories. He walked up to the dartboard, tracing his fingers around the numbers. "It's not as simple as each slice being that many points, though. You've got multipliers, y'see..."

Cliff watched silently as Duke pointed to the different rings. He could still feel where Duke's warm hands had held him and it left him with an old, wistful feeling he forgot he could feel. His mind felt hazy as he blinked, and he could tell that Duke was slowing his speech so he could understand more easily.

Almost like a father teaching a child how to do something for the first time...

At the thought of Duke playing side by side with his daughter amid laughter and smiles, that second kind of ache returned to Cliff's chest.

Holding his breath, Gray knocked on the door.

Maybe she's hanging out with Karen... no, I was just at the supermarket... Ann, maybe?

The door creaked open, revealing a pair of curious blue eyes. Claire's mouth was a tight line, the corners forced upwards ever so slightly. His eyes lingered on the pair of thick, blonde braids that tumbled down her shoulders as she tilted her head forward to peek out into the cold. She was dressed in a clean ivory sweater adorned with knitted pink hearts and he felt a wave of relief in his choice of handkerchief. His gaze settled on the stone pendant resting against her chest.

Dammit. I forgot how... cute she is. If Cliff saw her now, he'd probably stand there with his mouth hanging open, blushing like an idiot and gawking at her.

Her wide eyes blinked at him, and she curiously tilted her head. He felt his face burn, and as his pulse increased, he felt his lingering headache begin to throb.

Shit, that's what I'm doing... It's not like that! Goddess, I was staring at her necklace and she probably thinks I-

"Oh... I wasn't expecting to see you." Claire's words weren't unkind, but even he could hear the strain in them. "I thought we had the day off."

His stomach gave an uncomfortable twist as he averted his eyes. "Um, yeah, but... I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you."

The moment of silence between them seemed to stretch on for hours. He watched her fingers grip the door frame as if it were the only thing keeping her from being blown away. She leaned her body into it, swallowing. "Y-you know, Gray... a lot of the times you want to talk with me..." Claire's voice broke as she regained her confidence, her eyes moving to her stocking feet. "W-Well... things usually don't turn out well for me... and I don't think that's fair!" she sputtered, her tone quavering.

Gray took a small step backward, the paper bag in his hand crinkling as he tightened his grip on it. The other hand swiftly found its way to the brim of his cap and he gave it a gentle tug. "You're not wrong."

Another uncomfortable pause.

"But that's why I'm here. Uh, I mean... I need to tell you something."

He was met with silence. When she finally spoke, her words were as cold as the air around them.

"The last thing you felt you needed to tell me was to 'get out'."

He searched for the expression she was wearing, but Claire's face was unreadable. He thrust the paper bag in her direction, but she made no motion to take it.

Why...?

"Listen, you can't-!" He saw her eyebrows raise in alarm as she released her claw-like grip from the wooden frame.

This is going all wrong.

Claire's voice steadied. "No one likes being bossed around... That includes me, too."

I'm tryin' to do better, if only you'd listen!

He bit his lip, mentally cursing himself as he looked at the footprints in the snowy walkway. "Look, can I come in? I wanna give you something." He lowered the bag, his voice softening. "The most important thing I want to give you is an apology... I've been doin' a lotta thinking since yesterday." He looked up to see that she was fussing with the oversized sleeves on her sweater and stepping out of the doorway to allow him inside.

He sheepishly stepped through the threshold, unsure of whether or not to kick off his boots. He watched Claire step into the kitchen, turning off her electric kettle as the beginnings of a whistle were promptly snuffed. A couple of mugs were produced and he watched as she placed a dried concoction of plant matter that looked as if she had swept it from the forest floor into a couple of mesh tea infusers. Breathing a small sigh that was a combination of relief and stress, he removed his snowy boots and left them on the mat by the door.

She's getting comfortable... and she's not the type to make something without sharing...

Unlike me, she thinks of others before herself.

Well... that and she's expecting a proper apology without cutting corners.

Gray hung his coat and hat by the door. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling more vulnerable than he did in the doorway.

"I'm sure you want an explanation – I know I would."

He peeked over the other side of the kitchen counter, but Claire said nothing in response as she prepared the tea. Small saucers and plates were gathered, and she darted her eyes around the kitchen a few times before she reached into the cupboard to produce a box of vanilla sugared biscuits.

"Please take a seat and you can tell me."

Gray was distracted how the chill on the floorboards cut right through his thick socks as they made their way to the table. As he sat, he felt a distinct coldness in the air, and he wasn't sure if it was from the drafty windows or Claire's silence.

"You didn't have to go through the trouble to set up tea for us."

Claire set a bowl of sugar on the table and sat. "It's more comfortable." She wrapped her fingers around the mug.

"It is cold in here, isn't it?" Gray frowned. He could even smell the wintry ozone and pine from outside. He could've sworn he saw Claire's breath coming out in visible puffs.

Claire averted her eyes. "The tea helps." She paused. "Would you like a blanket?"

He shook his head, holding out the bag. "Here, this is for you."

She accepted the token, setting it on the table beside her. "I want to talk first."

The piping brew was far too hot to drink; Gray stared at the steam rising from his mug, but Claire's stiff posture remained in his peripheral vision.

The cookies were ready to eat, and he was eager to buy himself time to think. Gray bit into one and immediately recognized the flavor. "Ah, these are them cheap-ass cookies that Cliff likes so much. Shortbread, right?" His weak chuckle died down when he saw the stoic look on Claire's face.

She nodded silently, and he caught the color rising in her cheeks.

Shit...

That was rude, wasn't it?

The hot tea, offering blankets, cheap food... It's freezing in here and she hardly has the heat turned on, if at all. She was really eager to work for Gramps...

She's tight on cash during the roughest season for a farmer and all I can manage to do is rub it in her face.

"You want your apology." The words slipped out before he could stop them. He swiftly bit his tongue; his rising heart rate was causing his mind to race. "You deserve one," he added for good measure.

"I want to know why." Claire steadied her voice. "Why you seem so angry at me. I thought things were going well between us. I don't understand. I liked working with you."

Her use of the past tense gave his heart a sharp pang. "I don't hate you, Claire."

The young woman visibly flinched. Those were the same words she had used when Cliff explained his past and hometown to her at the hospital.

Was that really all I could offer him after he opened his heart like that?

She found she was having to bite her tongue to keep from saying something she'd regret.

He continued. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was an idiot."

She detected regret in his tone and was taken aback.

"I don't have to go to Zephyr Town if it's going to make things weird." Claire focused on her tea, wrapping her hands around the mug to thaw out her smarting fingers.

"That's not what I was upset about," Gray insisted with the shake of his head.

"So you really were mad because I visited Cliff while he was hospitalized?" She hated how aggressive her tone was, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I told you – I was being stupid." He reached for the bill of his cap and mumbled a curse when he remembered he had left it hanging by the door. "It really wasn't about the two of you at all. Mary cares about what her mom thinks too much, and... all I wanted was for my dad to have stayed by my mom's side in the hospital when she was dying." His voice cracked. "What I would give to have a mom I worried too much over." The young man let out a heavy sigh, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.

Claire's heart broke as she pieced his story together. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"And I know you had asked for me to open up. I was a jerk, then, too." Another muffled sigh emitted from beneath his arms before he sat up. "I spent all night bothering Cliff about it. He's a... really good person." He took a noisy slurp from his drink. "I really don't deserve the people I have in my life."

Claire's face wore an uncomfortable expression. "Gray..."

"I don't want to lose the ones I have left." A lump formed in his throat; he was busy staring down into his tea, trying to will his eyes into staying dry.

"I'm important enough to you to want to keep around?" Claire's words were hushed in surprise.

"It's like you said – I like working with you. It's not just that, though!" he added quickly. His mind raced as he searched for the right words, and he looked back up at her shyly. "You seem like a cool person. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

Claire's braids moved with her as she shook her head, her cheeks rosy. "Well, it's not like I gave you the best impression when we first met. It's easy to see now how embarrassing and obnoxious I was."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Gray finished swallowing his tea. "Well, if you get to call yourself that, then I can say the same about myself." He grinned as she stifled a chuckle. "You're a badass, you know that? Runnin' this farm all by yourself. Managing everything on your own and living off the land... You helped Cliff find work, and you've been such a solid rock for him... Karen, too. They're lucky to have you. I was just too stupid to notice those things before. I think you're pretty awesome, and I... really like you." His pale blue eyes looked up at her through his rust-colored bangs and he gave her a crooked smile.

Claire found herself grinning back, but before she could reply, he continued.

"I just... don't want to lose all the headway we've been making over a stupid misunderstanding. Goddess knows we've already had enough issues not seeing things eye-to-eye. What happened in the past between my parents has nothing to do with you being a good partner for Cliff, so... I'm sorry I lumped the two together."

Claire gave him a sad smile. "Gray..."

He had already stuffed another shortbread into his mouth. "And you should open that damn bag already!" he interrupted with a chortle. "It's driving me nuts!"

She unrolled the crumpled bag with a slight smirk on her lips. She reached inside and pulled out the pink gingham cloth, her eyes aglow. A delighted squeak escaped her lips as her fingers traced the embroidered strawberries and Gray couldn't help but grin.

"Karen have me some pointers, but I picked that one myself."

"You didn't have to get me anything!" Claire insisted, shaking her head.

"I know. The apology's most important, but... I figured a little pick me up wouldn't hurt, either."

A smirk curled at Claire's lips. "I appreciate both."

"No problem. It's the least I can do from being such an ass yesterday."

Claire was about to say that it was no big deal, but she stopped herself. It had been a big deal – it had made her upset and left her on edge even today. She carefully selected her words. "Well, it means a lot to me that you came over to talk to me about it."

"I'm learning that it's the best way to handle things," Gray confessed, staring into his drink. "I know I suck with words, though, so I don't always get my point across, let alone have someone who is willing to listen." He sighed. "You're not the only one who has been way too nice to me lately..."

Claire waited for him to continue.

"I consider Cliff my best friend, but... damn, sometimes I forget how lucky I am," Gray said with a laugh. "The guy's got more patience than I'll probably ever have in my lifetime."

Claire's fingertips drifted toward the engraved stone hanging around her neck. "He's a very kind person. I'm so lucky that we found each other."

"I'm sorry that I was so grouchy about that the other day." Gray frowned as he set down his tea. He put his already cold hands in his lap, rubbing them together to stave off the cold.

Shit... my knee's acting up again. How does she live like this?

"It means a lot to hear that from you." Claire's voice was soft. She looked up from her drink, detecting the grimace on his face. "Are you... alright?"

He gave her an unconvincing chuckle in reply, rubbing his leg. "It's this damn weather. Makes it hard on my knee."

Her eyes widened. "Ah, would heat help? I have a hot water bottle."

He cast her a desperate look. "I don't wanna cause you any extra trouble..."

Claire had already stood up and lifted the kettle, giving it a gentle shake. The sound of hot water sloshing inside caused a smirk to grow on her lips. "No extra trouble. Water's already hot."

He looked down at his lap, embarrassed. "I could really use it. If you have any ibuprofen, that would help, too."

Claire hadn't been blind to the sunken in eyes and shadows across his face. Almost everyone was sporting the same look the morning after Ann's birthday party after all the drinking.

He hasn't been eating regularly, either...

Within moments, the bottle was filled and applied to his knee. He threw his head back, letting out a groan of relief.

"Goddess, I didn't realize how much it was bothering me..."

"Well, you could've just told me."

Gray felt his cheeks warm as he took the offered pills and washed them down with some tea. "You and Cliff both do that... always bending over backwards to help me. I hate feeling like I owe you anything, and Goddess knows I don't deserve it."

"The only thing you owed me was an apology, and we're talking right now." She looked down at his plate. "Take some more cookies so you don't get a stomachache with that medicine."

His features softened. "Thanks."

"You said you talked to Cliff last night? How's he doing?"

Gray's face only grew warmer.

I only shared a bed with him, cuddled with him, and admitted I used to have a crush on him all while I sobbed and spilled out my heart to him about Mom and Dad...

Yeah, that definitely won't make things even more awkward between us.

He focused on Claire's initial question. "He was doing pretty okay last night. Karen was visiting, and it looked like they were reminiscing over some old memories – photo albums, music…"

He caught the excited glint in her eyes – no doubt she was relieved that he had been in good spirits.

"… And he seemed a little nervous about work, but I tried to loosen him up. I really shouldn't have kept him up so late listening to me complain about my family."

Claire offered him a weak smile. "I'm sure that he didn't see it that way." She twiddled her fingers, finally looking up at him. "If it would help… you can talk to me about it, too. Anything we talk about can stay in this room."

Both of them really are too nice to me.

"You sure?"

Claire nodded silently, her eyes focused. "I think it'll be good for both of us."

Author's Note: I know that saying this chapter is overdue is an understatement. I can't thank everyone enough for their patience on this. I wanted to have the summer arc rewrite finished before adding more content to the story. The chapters that were heavily rewritten begin at 59 and go through to approximately 78. Some chapters have been rewritten more than others, and even from 78 onward, edits have been made to reflect the changes from the earlier chapters.

Changes include: Claire's tomato harvest, Cliff's income, an introduction to Rick's inventions, and a squabble between Cliff and Gray during Kai's birthday party, some previously deleted scenes, and more!

TLDR: Cliff is employed by Kai to get smoked fish for the Fireworks Festival and Claire works with Rick to come up with "The Tomato Tube" - an invention to streamline the harvesting of crops. Cliff confronts Gray over the way he let down Claire, and Kai acts as a mediator to help them reach a better understanding. :) We also get a little bit of lore on the Kappa of the pond.

I'm sorry for my absence, but it needed to happen for me to grow and heal through a series of personal matters that left me in a really bad head space. Much like Gray and Cliff, I'm slowly starting to realize that there are people who support and care about me – learning that despite my insecurities and faults, there are those who will continue to love me. I really wanted this chapter to reflect that.

If you spoke to me and consoled me in my moments of pain, thank you. If you sent me good vibes or thought of me or this story during my absence, thank you. If you've read my works at all, I sincerely thank you.

Thank you all. This chapter is dedicated to all of you.