"So, what seems to be the problem?" Elli asks. A squeaky noise erupts from the sink when she turns its handle off. Her chipper tone is absent today - she sounds downright impatient. Gray just sits on the examination table in the clinic, shivering in his t-shirt.

"Don't you freakin' touch me with your cold hands," he warns, voice raspy. Elli dries her hands, but walks over to him and seizes his bare arms.

"Next time, dress warmly," she replies with a short laugh. He scoffs at her, but even that elicits a pain in the back of his throat. He winces.

"My throat hurts," Gray tells her gruffly.

Elli clucks her tongue in response. "You know that the weather still isn't nice enough yet to justify not wearing a jacket, right?"

"Thanks, Elli."

Claire pushed him in a pond at the beginning of spring, and he came out unscathed. He gives her his jacket for like, an hour, and his throat starts to hurt immediately. Even though she quickly handed it back with a string of apologies after he walked her home, Gray was already starting to feel ill at that point. He doesn't really care though; as long as she stayed warm.

It would seem that Gray is actually being considerate toward others. This is a concept, for sure, but he means it. Claire's wellbeing matters greatly to him; he's just pissed that it took last night to fully realize this. She's been the only thing on his mind ever since. It's like he's got tunnel vision, and all that he can see is her.

Elli rummages through the drawer beside the examination table, yanking out a stack of popsicle sticks. She pulls one out, and points it in Gray's face. "Say 'ah.'"

"Ah." He sticks his tongue out wide, feeling like he did as a little kid, when him and his father used to imitate the Rolling Stones' logo in pictures. Elli stuffs the popsicle stick in his mouth. His face twists in discomfort when it hits the back of his raw throat harshly.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Elli apologizes. "I'm still getting the hang of taking uvula swabs."

"Yuh thuck ah iht," Gray tells her, the popsicle stick weighing down on his tongue. Given that Elli's always way too hard on herself, this is his attempt at lightening her up so that she doesn't feel bad.

Clearly, she thinks that he's just being an asshole, though. Glaring at him, she pulls the stick out of his mouth. "I bet you've done that to dozens of girls on purpose, not using a popsicle stick."

Well, maybe not dozens. His cheeks flame.

"Chill, El," Gray mumbles. Why's she acting so strange?

"You men are all the same," Elli says, grabbing a stack of papers from the cabinet haughtily. "The doctor will see you shortly."

"Hardy's here?" he asks, frowning. But she's gone.

What's her deal?

The door swings opens once again, yet it's not Dr. Hardy from Forget-Me-Not-Valley standing in front of him. Instead, a man wearing a head mirror bursts in, hastily clutching a clipboard in his pale hands.

Gray doesn't believe his eyes. It can't be.

No fucking way.

"Grayson, right?" The man tucks his clipboard underneath his arm, extending his hand out. His hair's darker, the previous crew cut he had now grown out, and it looks like he's lost a bit of weight or had work done (whatever), but other than that, he's the same as when Gray last saw him. With the kind of face that is just so easily punchable. "Sorry, I have to be out the door as soon as I'm done here. I'm Dr. Trent, the new practitioner in Mineral Town."

Trent? That's his name? Gray never actually took the time to learn his title at the hospital; he just always referred to him with a plethora of derogatory insults. He stares, still saying nothing.

The doctor shrugs, pulling back his hand to rifle through Gray's file. "Elli tells me that your throat is sore?" He looks dishevelled, and not as clean cut-cut as he was back in Chicago.

When he still doesn't answer, the doctor takes a step toward him, retrieving a flashlight from his pocket. He clicks the switch on. Gray just opens his mouth silently.

He pulls back, his puzzled eyes fixated on Gray. He turns to reach into the counter above the sink, pulling out a cough syrup.

"Take two doses for the next three days, morning and night," the doctor instructs. He gives the syrup to Gray, staring at him for a very long time. "You look… eerily familiar," he remarks absently. Gray blinks, his fist curling almost instinctively beside him. It's like there are no words left in him. He's never felt himself so paralyzed with anger; never even been in such a state of shock before.

The doctor scribbles information down messily on a prescription slip, handing it over, quickly making his way out of the room. Gray listens carefully, hearing the front door to the clinic slam shut.

"I'll bet," he says with his teeth grit. "You're the reason my mother's dead."


Claire lifts her basket of crops, tossing them into the shipping bin for Zack to pick up. With summer being around the corner next week, she's trying to make the most of all that she's grown this season. Given that she's sort of going broke.

The strong wind whips against her face, hitting her puffy eyes that are still swollen from the previous night. Her hair starts blowing all around her as Maggie growls toward the entrance of her farm.

"What's wrong, girl?" Claire crouches down to soothe her and brushes the bangs out of her eyes. She finds herself staring up at none other than the town doctor himself.

She just stands up straight, dusts herself off, and begins walking away from him.

"Claire, I'm sorry," Trent says. She glares at him, putting her basket away silently. He runs over to her. "My deepest apologies-"

"Seriously, save it," she snaps at him. "What you did was so not cool."

He squints at her, and for a moment, raw anger blooms across his handsome face. But he shakes his head, a sensitive expression replacing it.

"That is not fair," Trent says, pronouncing each and every consonant. Even though he does look a bit unkempt today, with his tousled raven hair and wrinkled white lab coat, he's still so beautiful. How a man could be this attractive, she'd never know.

"Well, neither is standing a girl up!" Claire blinks back tears and feels like she's going to cry all over again. Do not let him see you cry over him! DO. NOT.

"You're overreacting," Trent tells her, his voice levelled.

He can't be serious. Doesn't he know that saying something like this to a girl only makes things a hundred times worse?! "Excuse me?"

Trent shakes his head in disgust. "If you believe that a dinner matters more than people's lives, then I truly don't know what to say to you, Claire."

Huh?

"What are you talking about?"

Trent looks her dead in the eyes. She feels like the world's crappiest person as soon as the words escape his lips. "Elli's grandmother fell last night. We were both tending to her for hours."

"O-o-oh," Claire stammers, wanting to kick herself. "I-I didn't know. Is she okay?"

Trent narrows her eyes at her. "I don't mean to get upset, Claire, but health will always be my number one priority over everything. I hope that you can understand that."

"I do!" Claire says, a little too loudly. She looks away in embarrassment, feeling terrible. "I just thought that you were standing me up last night."

Trent grabs her arm, his grip strong. He brings her closer to him, pulling her into a hug. "I would never even think of doing a thing like that to you." He strokes her hair delicately, and she looks up at him in surprise.

"You're working too hard," Trent says, pointing at her flushed cheeks. Claire looks down, mortified.

"I apologize if I made your blood pressure rise last night. I know that you must have been unbelievably angry," he continues, tsking himself softly. "I know that you must have been unbelievably angry. As a doctor, I worry about everyone the same, but since we met a few days ago... you have been the only thing that I worry about."

"Me?" Claire asks, eyes widening. Her heart is pounding as he tightens his hold on her in his arms.

"Of course." Trent's gaze lingers on her. "Your overall wellbeing keeps occupying my mind, Claire."

"Oh," she murmurs, blushing profusely.

"I hope that this makes it better."

And he dips her chin back, kissing her.

It's tender and sweet; not passionate, but instead, purely romantic. Trent's lips are smooth as they press tightly against her own. Any sort of anger that Claire has harboured feels as though it's vanished, like a love spell for Trent has been cast upon her instead. She feels her heart skip a beat as she twists her fingers through his soft hair, shutting her big eyes and gently kissing him back.


Her entire afternoon is spent with Trent. They sit under the not-yet-ripe peach tree by her farm, chatting and getting to know each other more. Claire is fully aware that this was supposed to all happen before their kiss, before he left her heart racing and her head dizzy, but she digresses; this order can work out just fine, too. He's from Dallas, but did most of his training under Dr. Hardy in Forget-Me-Not-Valley nearby, and also completed a residency in the city as well. Trent discusses his mentorship with Elli on the medical field, and although she's a good nurse, he isn't sure that can handle the mental toughness which comes with being a doctor. His speech is eloquent and intellectual; it makes Claire self-conscious of her own laid-back words.

She explains that she grew up in a church convent after her mother was killed in a car accident, and decided to move to Mineral Town on a whim. Trent tells her that he visits church to speak with Pastor Carter, his only friend in town, but has always just believed in the more science-y side of the world.

He doesn't say much regarding his family when she asks. Just that they always provided for him.

Trent sits with his spine straight against the tree, as Claire lazes back, propped on her elbows. Even his posture is perfect, she laments, petting Maggie. Her dog normally snuggles up to visitors, but she's stayed close to her side the entire time, which is fine, considering that he said he isn't a dog person. She unhooks Maggie's leash, letting her chase flying dandelions around the farm.

He continues, wanting to know what she likes to do. Claire says that she enjoys trying out new recipes in the kitchen, listening to 80's music, and watching movies.

He frowns at this. "Claire, how old are you?"

Do my answers make me sound childish?

His tone is a bit concerning. She swallows hard. "I'll be eighteen soon," Claire says meekly, because she's convinced herself that this sounds a whole lot better than "seventeen."

Trent just blinks. "Interesting."

And then there is silence.

"I think it's your turn!" she exclaims nervously, when he doesn't answer back with his own age.

"I suppose that I'm a lot older than you may think."

"Um, are you secretly a GP by day, and plastic-surgeon by night? Like, you're injecting Juvederm by the vial?"

"I think that you mean 'Botox,'" Trent corrects with a wink. "But you're extremely mature for your age." He nods in approval, and she's immediately grateful. "I'll be twenty-six in the fall."

Her heart flops.

She doesn't mean to widen her eyes, but she does. Another breeze runs by her, and her body is overcome with chills. Is this the nippy feeling of another frigid, spring day, or the fact that she's kissed a way older guy?

"Oh... I'd have never guessed."

"Does that bother you?" Trent quickly takes her hands in his, folding his palms over her knuckles in concernment.

"Should it?"

"Of course not," he assures, squeezing her hands tightly. "I just feel like you need to be handled with such care." He releases her with a chuckle.

Claire just laughs tensely, feeling a little hesitant to say more. It didn't really occur to her that Trent could be that much older. It made sense, given how many years it must have taken him to have his own private practice, but she's weary of herself for not thinking this through.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend, Claire?" Trent's voice breaks the tense silence.

Claire shakes her head, pieces of her bangs falling into her eyes. She brushes them away. "Never. I definitely was not someone that boys took interest in."

Do I have to go over the whole social piranha thing?

"I'm shocked," Trent remarks uncertainly, as though this is hard to grasp. "I cannot even imagine anyone not being infatuated with you."

"It's true. My uniform wasn't flattering at all, and I couldn't wear makeup to school, and then I had this dorky retainer, and-"

"You are so beautiful," Trent interrupts, gazing into her eyes like he's losing himself in them. Every time that he catches a glance at her, it's like he's seeing her for the first time.

She blushes again, sheepishly looking away. How can this guy be the entire package? Something's gotta be off.

… Investigation time.

"What's your vice?" she asks him, picking a moondrop flower from the earth.

"Well, what's yours?" Trent takes the yellow flower from her, tucking it behind her ear.

This guy is good, huh?

"You're sneaky," says Claire. "I totally asked you first!"

"I'm very mysterious, it seems. Besides, this is doctor's orders," Trent replies playfully. "Tell me." She gives him a quizzical look, but he shrugs nonchalantly, flashing her his perfect smile.

And it's like she's just melting right there on the spot.

"Okay, well, I really love junk food," Claire says.

Trent makes a face. "My arteries!" he cries out dramatically, clutching his heart.

She giggles. "What's yours, Mr. Health-Nut?"

"I suppose alcohol. You know, something to 'take the edge off,' as many would say."

"My liver!" she hollers, unsure of where to point to on her body. Where even is the liver? "How is that healthy?"

"Well, a vice is a 'taboo' habit, is it not?"

"Ugh, I guess that you're right. I'm biased, though, 'cause I so do not drink!"

"Oh, why is that?"

Here comes another way to sound like a total child. "Well, it takes like, nothing to get me drunk. My first week here, I passed out one night from a glass of wine."

Trent laughs in disbelief, then looks at her seriously. "Well, did you eat enough carbohydrates that day? Or participate in invigorating exercise?"

Claire gives him another curious look. "Uhh, I think that I had some pasta that day? And I was still getting the hang of all of my farm work."

"Your enzymes just metabolize the alcohol a lot faster, given your small stature,'" he says, considering everything. "I suppose the popular terminology for this phrase is called a 'lightweight,' however, your actions that day also played a part in you getting intoxicated so quickly." He pauses. "You know, red wine contains a plethora of antioxidants. Five ounces a day is actually quite good for you."

Um, what? Claire tilts her head at him, smiling in disbelief. "You are crazy smart. It's actually kind of scary." Just talking to Trent makes her feel like she understands the medical world, the way that watching Scrubs does, in a way. Well, not really.

"I am also devilishly handsome," he adds.

"Right. Couldn't forget that one!"

"I'm teasing. What's your favourite thing to do?" Trent maneuvers his way closer to her. Claire clasps her hands in her lap, cracking her knuckles anxiously. Hello, McFly? Are you forgetting your internal dilemma?! She can't fall for someone with eight years over her, right?

But here she is, falling hard for this sharp, attractive, enigmatic doctor.

"I guess hanging out with my new friends here," Claire answers.

She looks down at the cross pinned to her shirt for a moment, and quickly remembers Gray. Crap, Some friend I am! Before she got to work on her farm, she called the shop earlier to thank him for last night, but no one picked up the phone. She hasn't had a chance to try reaching him again, since Trent's been with her all afternoon.

"How nice. In my spare time, I like to practice tai chi," Trent says. "It's like… invigorating yoga."

"Yikes. Say that one back to yourself."

He chuckles again. "So cruel, Claire. You're breaking my heart."

She snickers, and Trent looks at her for a long time before wrapping his arms around her. He pulls her in close to kiss her again. This one feels more imperative than the other one, maybe even a tad urgent. Claire is glad that they're seated, because her knees would surely be buckling at this point. He keeps her in his arms, lips firm against her own. Her toes curl, and she feels like she's in a dream. One where it's been forgotten that she's forgiven Trent so easily; one where he isn't almost a decade older.

Does it really matter? In a way, Claire is sort of convincing herself. I mean, there's lots of… couples in this world with an age gap. She isn't blind to the truth though; she knows that the problem lies within her own age, and not his.

But to have anyone interested in her, much less, someone older, someone so dashing and charming, with a successful career, is kind of exhilarating. It makes her feel wanted... and special.

Trent's tongue runs over her bottom lip, pleading for entrance, and for a moment, her heart almost stops. Well, you've done this before, haven't you? Claire's internal voice shouts at her. And she has. Platonically, with her good friend.

Then, she's reminded of that night. Is Ann or Gray going to be irritated that she's taken back the secret date who stood her up? How's she going to explain to anyone in her group that she made out with a twenty-five-year-old doctor? How's she going to explain that she liked it? How is she even going to explain any of this to anybody?

Jeez, what if Popuri or Ann ask about Gray again? If someone else's mouth wasn't on hers, she'd instinctively reach to chew on the inside of her cheek.

Yesterday marks the realization for her that Gray is actually a solid friend. There would be no need to justify her feelings for Trent at all, because despite any confusion in the past, she and Gray are simply friends. And Claire's glad at that.

She pushes every worry out of her mind to allow Trent's tongue to dive for her own, sighing happily against him. Their kiss deepens, but she lets out a gasp when they part suddenly.

"I have to go," Trent says, with his face still against hers. He pulls back gently, releasing her from his arms. This causes Claire to deflate a bit; she was enjoying their kiss so much. "I'm working late tonight, but I left the clinic to come and see you." They rise from the ground, and he lifts her chin. "I knew that I had to make this better."

She nods, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks feel so hot, but Trent doesn't even look the slightest bit red. Like make out sessions are second nature to him.

"You did," Claire tells him, her voice soft.

"I'm glad." He beams at her. "We need to go on a proper date."

"I'm hanging with a friend tonight... I think," Claire says, still panting. "But, maybe we could find some time later this week?" She's going to take a shower and check up on Gray immediately after this.

"Girls night out?"

"Well-"

He cuts her off with a final kiss planted softly on her lips. "Wednesdays are really the only days that work for me right now," Trent says. "I'm still getting settled in, but that's my day off."

Claire nods, smiling dopily. Wednesday already feels so far away, but she's just impossibly light-headed right now, like she's stepping on a cloud.

"Goodbye, Claire," Trent calls, waving as her exits her farm.

"Bye," she murmurs. Maggie is finished her millionth sprint, trotting up to her quizzically. Claire just lifts her dog in her arms, walking into her house dizzily.