There's a knock on the door early in the morning, not that that matters to Max. He's always preferred fishing in the morning.
The girl on the other side of the door has red eyes from lack of sleep and from crying too hard. She thinks she doesn't look like her grandmother, but the resemblance is striking in that moment. She's holding herself, looking at the floor as struggles to speak.
"I didn't know who else to talk to," she mumbles. "I know we don't know each other that well, but I didn't know where else to go."
Max puts his fishing gear down as she collapses into tears, and he brings her inside. He sits her down in his overcrowded living room and lets her collect herself while he makes some tea. He makes Gracie's favorite, and she accepts it gratefully.
She cries so much that day, and he can tell she's been holding it in for a long time.
She tells him about the moon pool, and what she did, or rather, what she attempted to do, and why she did it. He listens and consoles her as best he can between the outpouring of words. She's telling him about falling head over heels for Lewis and knowing that he was lying to her but putting up with it anyway. She tells him that she knew Lewis and Cleo weren't over each other, but she hoped if she just kept holding on, he'd realize how much she cared for him. She tells him, she didn't even really dislike Cleo that much, she just wanted Lewis to pay attention to her. She admits all the things she did, like turning off Lewis's phone and hiding it, locking Emma and Cleo in a room during a birthday party, stealing Cleo's locket after fighting her. She says it with so much self-loathing as she tries to figure out why she did things like that.
More than anything, she asks why she wasn't enough. She asks this over and over until she's whispering it to herself.
Max remembers what he said to Lewis about not letting Cleo go, and his heart breaks. The teenager hadn't even said anything about the crying girl on his couch, who would've done anything to be with him. Just like Max would've done anything for Gracie.
After a while, she just lays down on the couch, and he finishes up the few chores he has left to do around the house while she rests.
He wished he knew what Gracie would've done in his place. He hates this. He hates that that beautiful, vibrant, passionate woman he loved so much is gone. He hates that she can't be here to comfort her granddaughter, that she couldn't have been there to guide her away from the path she took. He hates that he can't help that poor girl on the couch, and he hates that he told her about Mako and the full moon at all.
Later that afternoon, there's another knock on the door.
Charlotte's calmed down a little. She's holding her cup of tea, staring blankly at the carpet at her feet. Max opens the door to find Cleo and two blonde girls on either side of her. Emma and Rikki, he surmises.
"Ms. Watsford said Charlotte was here," Cleo says quietly. "We wanted to talk to her."
Max looks at the three of them, his eyebrows furrowed. The two blondes looked mildly annoyed, the one with curly hair bordering on irritated. From what Charlotte described, that was most likely Rikki.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he tries to say, but Rikki cuts him off.
"We're talking to her. Right now. So either-"
"It's okay, Max."
The fisherman turns slightly to see Charlotte standing beside him. She's trembling, and her nose and eyes are red; but her back is straight, and she's keeping her chin up. She's stronger than she believed, and he knows whatever's about to happen she needs all of it.
He moves out of the way, and Charlotte goes with the three girls to the beachfront.