A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! đź’• This is part 1 of a 2 chapter update. Again, I wrote too much, had to divide it into separate parts haha. Similar to Chapter 29 "The Funeral," this will be told from present, to past, back to present, in order to get to the full picture. As a trigger warning, please note that these chapters will mention adult themes of sexual assault, though it will not go into explicit detail on this website.


"I think you were wrong," he says, after Gray has said nothing. He puts his wine down with a loud clink, its sound vibrating against the tiled counter. He takes a step closer as Gray just continues drinking from his glass, the cognac eliciting a burning pain from the back of his throat. But he needs this drink, he missed drinking and he friggin' requires it. Doug stands behind the bar, polishing an empty glass with worried eyes. The inn is bustling tonight; people are talking and laughing about. They all seem so far away though, their chatter a remote noise in the background's distance.

"I think she lied."

The glass stops before it touches Gray's lips. He waits, but the rage inside of him has already built itself up.

It's about to boil over.

"She wasn't that tight last night."

And he extends out a skimpy piece of purple fabric, holding it right under Gray's nose.

Trent's words make it feel as though all of the air has been forcibly removed from the room.

His mind is swimming with thoughts, with doubts, with everything, but he isn't even thinking coherently right now. Gray grabs the fabric from him, and it's underwear. It's freaking underwear… it's her underwear? He clutches it in his hand, shaky fist balled up tightly.

And he effectively delivers a sucker punch right to the edge of Trent's jaw.

A girl screams from far away, but it's all the edge of a distant blur for him now. He keeps going.

He can't stop.


Claire had awoken to her head nestled on Gray's shoulder, the stitched fabric of his t-shirt leaving an imprinted mark on her face. She got up at snail speed, before slowly shifting her gaze to him, the realization of it all causing her to frantically throw herself back from his body. She stared at Maggie snoozing in his lap, at the worn-out look around his eyes, at how peaceful he seemed just sleeping like this. His skin had been rubbed raw and reddened from all of the crying, his hat a distant, thrown-away memory.

She had to turn herself away from him.

Here was her friend, who opened up about the time that he tried dying, who sobbed so vulnerably into her skin, who—despite blocking it from her memory—had kissed her more than half a year ago. Her friend who hated most of the things that she loved, who always fought tooth and nail with her, who had no desire to ever be serious about anything in his life, who didn't possess the words "settle down" in his sworn vernacular… and... who she might actually—

A knock erupted from the front door. It made her heart literally stop beating for a second.

Oh, God.

She shot up from the couch in a frenzy, and her own forgotten, empty cereal bowl next to her came crashing down as well. It cracked into six large pieces, scattering around her floor.

Gray stayed unperturbed though, while Maggie peeked one eye open, yawning. Claire just anxiously ran to her bathroom, toothbrush clutched in her tremoring hands, trying to squeeze a line of toothpaste out onto the bristles carefully.

It got everywhere. She was shaking so bad—why was she shaking?!

The knocking proceeded, to which Maggie got up and darted to the front door, barking.

Oh, God.

Claire ran her toothbrush through her teeth, avoiding her face in the mirror. She didn't want to look at herself right now—she felt sick. The knocking continued as she spit into her sink, tossing her toothbrush into its cup. She missed though; it clattered onto her counter, but she just quickly darted to her front door, self-consciously throwing a sweater from her dresser on. She avoided stepping on the broken pieces of her cereal bowl, picking them up and tossing them into her garbage can. She did all of this in a record timing of thirty seconds flat, nervously running to open her door while completely out of breath.

Trent swooped her up in his arms immediately upon answering, kissing her like mad.

"My Claire," he sang, pulling back to stare at her so lovingly. His body was so cold against her own, hands more freezing than usual. "It felt like too long. Felt like forever."

Immediate tears sprang to her eyes. She felt awful—worse than awful. How could she ever think any of those things last night? How could she just let her memories take over and get so ahead of herself like that?

She'd never act on anything, but she still felt like a horrible person nonetheless.

"Hi," Claire whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Trent reached up and felt the tears from her cheeks collide against his own skin.

Bringing his face away from hers, he gazed at her doubtfully, before softening his brows. "What's wrong, love?"

Her lower lip trembled. She felt like such a baby, a childish idiot. "I missed you. I… I just needed you back here. With me."

Trent smiled, before his gaze lingered over to Gray still passed out on her couch. He hadn't so much as stirred from all of the noise that she made trying to get ready. Maggie began snarling up at Trent, before scampering over to her KO'd roommate, snuggling next to him.

Claire just swallowed thickly. It felt like she had cotton balls stuffed in her throat.

"Is he going to wake up?" Trent asked her, expression unreadable.

She didn't dare look in Gray's direction. "No, um, from what I've gathered, he's a really heavy sleeper."

"From what you've gathered."

Claire froze, internally praying that Trent hadn't seen her resting on his shoulder before. She didn't even realize that the two of them had passed out like this—they were just both so emotionally drained.

"Yes," she responded in a small voice.

Trent simply nodded though, gesturing toward her boots. "Let's go outside. I need a moment of you to myself."

Her face got hot. She missed this man more than the world, and she cared about him with all of her heart. She'd never been in love before, not ever, but told herself that it matched all of the characteristics to how she felt about him. She didn't want to think any of those things last night; she didn't mean for her memories to corrupt the vision of the bigger picture that was missing in front of her.

She told herself that she couldn't help what got in her mind that time; she believed it.

Claire slipped on her boots as Trent—ever the gentleman—helped to put her coat on. As they readied to leave, the sound of Gray moving around behind her, signifying his waking up, made her pick up the pace. She quickly walked with Trent outside, making her way to the direction of her barn with him. Listening intently to each of his words, she expected the worst—why was she expecting the worst?

"Do you understand how hard that was for me?" Trent asked her, leading her behind the side of her stable. The spot was completely out of sight from the front of her house. "Being away from you for that long… Claire, I don't ever want to be away from you like that again. It felt like something was missing."

It was as though her soul had been lifted though. That was just it: something missing. "I felt the same way, Trent," she breathed, grateful for his words.

"I need you in my life, Claire," he murmured, grabbing her hands. He stared down at them, then back at her. "Now, and every day, and forever."

Her heart skipped a beat, fingers getting all clammy and warm around his own.

"You are the woman for me, and you're all mine. I need you always, Claire… I love you. I couldn't wait another moment to tell you that, but I really do love you so."

And he kissed her so deeply, so passionately, with her mouth cold and her whole body numb. Claire was freezing from the below-zero temperatures outside; she told herself that she needed this for warmth, she succumbed to him. Trent brought her even closer to him, his kisses developing further and his tongue sliding desperately against her own, to the point where their teeth almost collided. His mouth was fervid, insistent, and it made something work itself up inside of her, too.

She just pushed the feeling away though, tried her very best to ignore it, but it was building nonetheless.

Claire heard the front door to her house open, listened as her roommate paused, before trekking his feet through the heavy snow. Whether he was looking for her or not, he made his way toward the exit of the path to her farm. She knew he couldn't see them from where he was, and she didn't dare look.

But being kissed like this, Gray was out of her mind in a flash.

With her boyfriend's insistent mouth on hers, Claire realized that as much as she needed to feel loved, Trent needed to feel wanted by her all the same. She got high on her tippy-toes and melted into his lips, kissing him with the same yearning that he provided, eventually managing to catch herself up to his fast-paced, desired rhythm.

And as if this had awoken something within him, he quickly grabbed her backside, bringing himself against her body frenziedly. The only thing between them was their clothes; he kissed her and desperately ground his hips against her own. Claire made an audible gasp, the feeling no longer ignored as she found herself letting out a loud and accidental moan against his mouth.

Her eyes widened immediately. She broke their kiss, breathing heavily—her head was spinning and her body was unsteady. She looked down, until Trent grabbed her chin with his hand, tilting it upward. His dark irises were glazed over with desire.

"I love you," he said to her.

"I love you, too," she repeated, in a shaky voice.

"Show me your love tonight." He gave her hand a gentle-yet-innocent squeeze, and she nearly began tearing up right then and there. "Stay the night with me."

Claire was afraid—terrified.

But she told herself that love was supposed to make people feel this way—make her feel this way.

Love would change everything that she thought she knew, that she thought she wanted in her life.

Love scared her; she had to prepare herself for it.

Trent smoothed down the wrinkles of his button-down shirt that their make-out session just caused. "I'll leave you to do your own thing, but do you mind if I take the time to freshen up in your bathroom?"

Claire could only nod. Words weren't coming easy to her at the moment.


"Whatcha doin?" asked Elli, tilting her head all puzzled.

"Shopping," Gray mumbled. He lifted up a package of Instant Ramen, immediately placing it back down. If he was going to cook for Claire tomorrow night, it would be something that actually took more than half a brain cell to curate.

"You're grocery shopping?"

"No, no. You just caught me tryna jerk it in the middle of the aisle here."

Elli rolled her eyes as Gray leaned against the shelf, lifting up a packet of dried wild rice. How was he supposed to add the vegetables to this? Did they come dried as well, or did he have to find some fresh? Or, maybe even frozen? Shit, he hoped that there was an instruction manual on the back of this shit. Gray wished that he had paid closer attention to the cooking wisdom of Kai's parents whenever he went over to their restaurant after school.

"Didn't expect to see you ever doing any kind of grocery shopping," Elli mused, adjusting her shopping bag.

"Agreed, Elz. It's pretty insane," Ann chimed in, seemingly out of nowhere. Her arms were full of canned ingredients; she was too stubborn to admit that she needed a shopping cart to carry all of her crap. Fumbling to maintain a steady grip on everything, she turned to Gray. "You look like death."

What a thing to say.

"I'm cooking for tomorrow night," is all that he answered her with. The supermarket was packed with customers, and the door kept chiming to signify just how many people were coming or going. He didn't scan the store at all, but he figured that his grandfather wasn't anywhere in sight.

The girls didn't bother hiding their surprise. "You are?" they asked in unison.

"Jinx, touch your nose," Elli said to Ann with a laugh. Gray couldn't help but wonder what had got her in such a better mood as of lately, but it was nice to see her happy.

"Can't," said Ann, nearly dropping her can of chickpeas. "Hands full."

"Ha. I gotta run, I'm expecting a phone call, but I'll catch you guys later." Elli gave a five-finger wave to the both of them, taking her paid groceries and darting out of the store.

"I owe Claire a lot," Gray finally said. My life, actually. He seized a can of carrots from the crook of Ann's arm before it came crashing down to the floor.

"You don't cook," she pointed out, grabbing it back from him.

"I was gonna figure out a way to discreetly ask her for help when she gets back tonight." It was for their Christmas that they were meant to celebrate together. The way that he saw it, he could go to Claire with generic questions on how to get dinner started, and then surprise her with it the following evening.

Or, he'd just have Ann walk him through things if he couldn't manage to figure it out.

She frowned. "'Gets back tonight?' I thought she was sleeping there."

Gray just blinked. He knew Claire was going over that shit head's house later, but… she'd obviously be coming home, right? She wouldn't… he had even told himself that he'd go get her, given that the prick would likely make her walk back alone. "Why the hell would she do that?" he asked, with a furrow of his brows.

Ann stared, her mouth a thin, tight line. She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet, like everyone else except for him possessed all of the key knowledge in this world. "Gray… you're a guy, and you have a penis. Why don't you try thinking with your other head so that you can answer your own question." Her tone was flat, like she didn't want to be his bearer of bad news.

Gray scowled as he walked away from her, passing the remaining aisles to get to Jeff at the front checkout. Ann was dumb as hell; she clearly knew nothing. Claire wouldn't be so naïve to… she had to know what spending the night with her boyfriend would obviously entail, right? She wouldn't just change her whole prerogative like that, wouldn't feel obligated to succumb to Trent and break her promise for some stupid goddamn festival—

"Personally, if me and Rick are using 'em, I prefer ribbed. If I'm being honest."

"Uh—"

"But, I dunno if those would hurt for your first time, kid. 'Cause…"

Karen froze next to Claire when she saw him come to a steady stop at the entrance of the family planning aisle that they were both standing in. She had been absently restocking the store's shelves with Durex Play lubricant, but found herself ceasing this action immediately.

And Claire, nervously clutching a package of Trojans in her hands, tossed the box to the back of the shelf upon seeing Gray's figure in their aisle. Her face burned; she didn't meet his eyes, and instead, fixed her gaze on the floor out in front of them.

Ann was right.

Jesus.

"You better check that they carry extra-small condoms if you gotta be the one who buys them," he muttered to her. Karen had her mouth fall open at this.

Claire's cheeks turned even redder as her eyes shot ablaze. "Don't do this," she choked out.

To avoid hearing Karen call him a damn thief, Gray set the rice down on the same shelf next to her before storming out. "Take your own advice," he snapped, turning to leave.


Trent reached into Claire's drawer, rifling through it. He was trying to be quick, but he'd been combing through her things since she had left to go to the store. He didn't know when she'd be back, and he was trying his best to hurry. He dug and dug, searching, but not knowing what exactly he was searching for.

He could just take any plain cotton panty, but he had remembered something from the summertime, when that loud supermarket girl let it slip that she bought a kind of undergarment for Claire's birthday. And when he questioned Claire about it, she sheepishly laughed, said that it should be, and was supposed to be, a kind of secretive gift. But, due to Karen's accidental big mouth, it was apparently a secret that many people knew about.

She never let him see it, even when he asked.

Did that blacksmith get to, though?

He rummaged through the different fabrics heatedly; Claire didn't possess a single sexy piece of underwear at all—what was wrong with her? Was she lying, was everything all just heavily exaggerated?

His hands ran through everything, until he hit the bottom of the wood, felt something silky in the back corner, like it was being hidden. He pulled out a skimpy piece of underwear, held it between his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath. It was silky and purple, the way Claire minimally described it to him when he pressed her for details on what Karen had meant. It wasn't full of lace, hadn't any criss-crossed designs or racy cut-outs… it was just a simple, tiny thong.

He imagined it against Claire's pretty skin, her hips modelling it just for him, thought about what it would be like to impatiently move it over to the side.

Is that what the blacksmith did?

The way he'd found the two of them that morning… fury didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. He could make out Claire's figure resting against Gray's shoulder through the frosted glass of her frozen window, and it took every bit of him to control his temper, to not slap her across the face. He was almost glad that she had taken so long to answer her door; it gave him time to calm down. He just focused on kissing her, and managed like he always did. He told himself that maybe the virginal fantasy he had created in his head just wasn't possible; maybe he'd never actually have his way with one.

But no, tonight, it would be fine. He would check, he'd determine how many lies she had been feeding him, if there were ever any lies to begin with. And they'd go from there.

Regardless of what Claire wanted, he would be getting what he wanted, and that was all that mattered.

Her mutt hadn't quit its snarling since the moment that he stepped in, and he was about ready to kick it until he heard her front door creak open. He immediately shut her drawer, stuffed the minuscule underwear into his back pocket, and pretended to inspect his poreless face in the mirror above Claire's dresser. He tried thinking of a long-winded explanation to give to her on why he was still in her home, but was met with that punk instead.

"The hell are you doing here?" snapped Gray.

He smiled. No matter how hard Gray tried, Claire would never be his. And that made him happy. "I could ask you the same question. I was simply using the restroom—"

Gray got up in his face, light eyes flashing. Trent smugly thought about the elaborateness of his whole plan, and quickly realized that this guy wouldn't stand a chance. Maybe he would get himself caught in the crossfire of it all, but he told himself that he could handle it—after all, he was a sadomasochist of sorts. He'd put himself through a whole three rhinoplasties just to look exactly this way.

"You're one sick shit, you know that, eh? You better not… I swear to God, you better not touch her tonight."

Trent blinked, unfazed. He directed his attention admiringly back to the mirror—he really was glad that he did everything to look like this now. "And what if I do, hm? What'll you do then?"

Claire stepped in, her lungs winded and her face burning red. "Gray, please wait—"

And just as she did this, Gray angrily grabbed his collar, as though he didn't hear her, forcing Trent to face him. His smugness was clearly irritating him, and he couldn't help but inwardly laugh.

"I'll break your face, I swear to—"

Claire made a small, strangled noise, running over to the two of them in horror. "What the hell?!"

Trent shook his head, swatting Gray's hand away. He had to do it hard, though, because his grip was so tight on his shirt, that it almost scared him. No matter; it would be something to deal with tomorrow. "Sorry, love. I finished up in your bathroom, and was immediately met with hostility."

"Hostility," Gray snorted, stepping closer to him again. "You're a fucking little—"

Claire had to get herself in between them, trying her best to push Gray away. She narrowed her eyes at him, and decidedly, he was the one that she was mad at. Trent nearly beamed.

"Enough," she snapped at him.

Everything was going better than he had expected. He managed to contain a smile.

"I'll be getting ready for tonight, love," he told Claire, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She hardly reacted, though—she looked furious. "I'll see you then. Or, would you feel safer coming with me right now?"

But it was like his words didn't even register in her brain. As Trent let himself out, he listened to the sound of the two of them screaming at each other. Reaching into his back pocket, he thumbed her underwear, the feeling of it paralleling how good he could only imagine tonight would be.

He made his way over to the old blacksmith's shop, readying a long-awaited pickup that had been previously ordered.


"You're gonna fuck that." Gray couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "You're gonna let him—"

Claire was so angry with him that she wasn't even able to see straight. She couldn't believe how vulgar he was being. "You need to stop it, Gray, alright? E-NOUGH. You don't get to come into my home, threaten the man that I love… and you sure as hell don't get to tell me—"

"He's a friggin' creep, Blondie. He… Jesus Christ, that's all he wants you for! He's gonna sleep with you, and then he's gonna leave you once you give it up."

"Why would he just leave me like that? We've been together since the summer, what kind of sense does that make?!" She scowled at him, throwing her hands to her side in disbelief. "You're a real idiot sometimes, Gray."

How could she ever, in her whole life… God, he's such a piece of shit—how could even the smallest part of her remotely consider—?!

Gray scoffed. "I told you this shit before, he wants young pussy. That's it."

"You're disgusting," Claire snapped, storming away from him into her kitchen.

"It's true," he said, following her. "And the guy's horrible to you."

"He loves me." She slammed her cupboards shut loudly, in attempt to try and drown him out. "He's my boyfriend and we're in love."

"You think he loves you? You honestly believe that?"

"According to you last night, apparently everyone does," Claire muttered coldly.

His cheeks got red, but he stood his ground. "Yeah, yeah, I said a lot of shit last night. But he doesn't, alright? You're like a little trophy that he's just using—"

"I'm not getting used! And I'm not even… like, planning on sleeping with him."

She wondered if the uncertainty was masked in her voice. She also wasn't sure what was going to happen this evening, but knowing her luck, of course Gray had caught her in the supermarket at the wrong freaking time.

He stared at her dubiously. The exhaustion was plain to see in his eyes, but he just kept going. "You really believe that. You think you got a say with him tonight?"

Claire felt exhausted, too; she couldn't keep doing this anymore with him. Leaning against her counter, she tried to calm herself down by counting to ten, her lungs inhaling a deep breath. She thought about how broken Gray was last night. Although he said that what happened wasn't to be used as his crutch, and that she was still supposed to tell him off when he was being an asshole, she really didn't want to.

"Gray, I am not here to fight with you. Please, I don't want that. I heard what you said to Trent, and honestly, enough is enough. I'm begging you to stop." She hugged her arms around her body and raised her chin, eyes pleading with him to be reasonable. "Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired of fighting with me?"

Gray stared at her, still as callous and as hard as ever. He made no motion to accepting her extended olive branch. "I could go all friggin' day, baby."

She shook her head incredulously; he truly was impossible. "I don't wanna fight with you, please. You're doing this for no reason."

"No, it ain't for no reason. What about that stupid promise you made to your goddamn church?"

Her mouth fell agape. Dear Lord, impossible didn't even begin to cover it. He was truly u-n-b-e-l-i-e-v-a-b-l-e. Claire found herself losing her temper all over again. "Oh, my gosh—I do not have to run my shit by you! Who do you think you are?! You're not the boss of me and I can make my own decisions for myself!"

Gray's eyes were hooded and icy, words firm in the thick air between them. "You can't spend the night there."

"I can do whatever I want."

"You spend the night there, you're sleeping him… Y'know, if he can even get it up."

His vulgarity made her sear; she started growing even more furious with him. "So you do wanna fight, huh? That's all you know how to do."

They began shouting over each other's voices to try and drown out any kind of sense that they were both attempting to make.

"He's gonna leave you when you sleep with him, Blondie."

"You're like a damn broken record. You don't know Trent, and I don't have to hear this from you."

"That's all he wants."

"Actually, I don't have to take any of this from you either."

It was their usual yelling match, the severity in their screams hovering over each other, preventing one another from speaking or listening.

Claire didn't know what was going to happen tonight. She knew it might be nothing, but the likelihood of it being something caused a swarm of unsteady butterflies in her stomach. And it felt like she couldn't change the course of action at all; she'd been preventing things from happening this whole time. It was draining, and it made her feel like she just had to give in. She wanted Trent, maybe not like that, but she couldn't just let this be the reason why she lost him.

She didn't know what was going to go down, but she sure as hell didn't have to answer to Gray of all people—it wasn't his damn business. "I haven't even made up my mind, so why do you care?"

"Your friends are too afraid to tell you how they really feel, but I'm not. I'm tryna look out for you."

Claire snorted. "Oh, you're looking out for me."

"You don't wanna hear the truth about him—"

"You're trying to feed me total B.S. And you don't even know the first thing about love, or being in a relationship, or—"

He watched her disbelievingly. "But you do?"

"… You're such a jerk," is the only response that she could come up with. She was beyond pissed. "How would you know what he's gonna do?"

"'Cause that's the shit I would do, Claire," Gray snapped, and it immediately made her words come to a halt. She stopped trying to talk over him as she stared. "I went with girls, I slept with them, I left, and I never called them or talked to them again 'cause I got what I wanted and that was that, alright?"

She laughed bitterly. Unbelievable. "Thought you were a nice guy."

"I'm bein' realistic here."

"Just shut up. It's funny how it's okay for you to sleep around, for you to do whatever the hell you want, for you to destroy your life, and I don't say shit—"

"Oh, you don't say shit, eh?"

"—But then you try and tell me how to handle my own life. Like, that's hilarious to me. This is something private regarding my relationship that you have no business being a part of, yet you go and stick your nose where it does not belong."

"Hope you have a wild ride tonight while he's fucking you," said Gray, his voice bitter and mean.

"And another thing," Claire snapped, putting her finger in his face. "I'm not… I'm not effing him, so don't say that, 'cause your language is nauseating. And even if… we do do anything, which I'm not saying we will, I wouldn't… do it like that." She felt so inexperienced and stupid stumbling over her words like this; she questioned if she was even prepared for anything that Trent had entailed tonight. But she was fine, she was ready… for anything, and she needed to set the record straight with this jerkoff in front of her. "Not that it's any of your business like I said, but it would be… lovemaking, or whatever, so—"

Gray outright laughed at her, the bastard. He pushed her hand out of the way, leaving her face flushed.

"I… that's friggin' funny, Blondie."

Her cheeks grew redder by the second. Any kind of… care, or anything that she had ever felt for him, anything at all, was gone in an instant. Scratch unbelievable; the only word to describe him was none other than asshole. "Shut up, Gray. Just because you don't know how to be kind, or gentle, or loving in the slightest—"

"But a guy like that does?" Gray ran his fingers through his auburn hair in disbelief. "Jesus, at least I admit I'm not. You think you got a say in anything with a sorry-shit like that?"

Claire let out a sharp breath. "Y'know what? Screw you." She stormed out of the room, before the guilt began eating her insides away. Despite not wanting to, she came right back to him as he was gathering his jacket in his hands. "Are you gonna be okay on your own tonight—yes or no? I need you to tell me."

Gray rolled his eyes back at her as he fixed the sleeve of his jacket. "Mhm," he said sarcastically.

Claire shook her head, forcing herself to walk away from him yet again. "Why do I even freaking bother? Just get lost and leave me alone."

"Don't worry," she heard him say, as he zipped up his coat. "You're not gonna come home tomorrow to find my brains splattered all over your precious walls, if that's what you're concerned about."

His words hung heavily in the air.

It was like a switch inside of her got turned on. She had left the room, but quickly darted right back in after he said this, her lower lip quivering and her vision searing.

"Why would you say that?" Claire whimpered. The way her voice cracked and the desperation in it bothered her, but she had never been so angry. Not ever; she felt consumed by it. Is this how Gray lived his life? "Why would you ever say that?"

He shrugged into his jacket, avoiding her gaze and looking like he regretted his words.

"WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT?!"

"Relax," he muttered, still looking away.

Claire got out in front of him, right in his face. She was so small, minuscule compared to him, but damn it, she was livid. Beyond freaking livid. Her hands were shaking and her vision was spinning; she couldn't even stop the tears that had instantly formed in her eyes. They forced themselves to fall as she lost control of herself.

"You think I don't care about you? Like I don't give a shit, like I don't worry like crazy?! After everything we've been through together, after everything I've ever done for you, you don't—?"

"You need to relax, it was a joke."

"It's not a joke," Claire sobbed. She felt the need to lean on something, she was so dizzy with tears. She rubbed her face with her hands, letting them remain there. Her speech got all muffled. "You shouldn't, why would you ever—"

"You'll be fine."

She'd be fine? This was never about her. Her voice cracked and broke in all sorts of places. "You're not allowed to say things like that."

"Get over it," muttered Gray.

She dropped her hands so that she could fully scream at him again, tears blurring her vision. She couldn't find it in her to tell herself to wipe them. Every part of her was so gutted, she couldn't even think straight. She had never been more out of control, more hysterical in her life. "How dare you, Gray. After EVERYTHING—"

Claire had to stop herself from speaking because it was all just becoming an incoherent, blubbering mess. She felt so overwhelmed with every single thing going on in her life; hearing this was the freaking cherry on top. She needed to empty out her feelings, to crawl up into a little ball and sob.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly to try and stop her tears from flowing so rapidly, but it didn't help in masking them at all. She couldn't bring herself to walk over to her bathroom and wash her face—she was too dizzy with anger. And she couldn't drop to the floor because she figured that she wouldn't be able to find the energy to get herself back up from it. That's what it was—this, all of this with him, it just shattered the energy right out of her.

Claire turned herself away from him, fingers prying at her eyelids to wipe the sadness off, but it felt so hard. Everything was so hard. She simply fell back on her couch behind her, pretending that Gray wasn't there as she let her tears consume her. She was an emotional person, sure, but right now… it all felt heightened. She felt like her feelings were cranked at a 100.

Despite the sounds of her weeping, she still heard his tentative footsteps eventually echoing their way into her ears. And although her eyes were still closed, she felt Gray's presence as he sat himself beside her. She wanted him as far away as possible. She wasn't just mad at him; she couldn't even quite place what was going on inside of her at that moment.

"Blondie," Gray said quietly. "Listen."

She could hardly hear him over the racking of her sobs—his voice was like a distant memory in the back of her mind.

It was so difficult to be with him.

"Just leave me alone," she pleaded.

Claire felt the ghost of Gray's arm about to wrap itself around her, before her words made him immediately retreat it back. She brought her hands in front of her face again, feeling zero need to fling herself onto his shirt and cry. She had held him as she wept so many times before, but she thought about all of his horrible words, everything terrible he had said to her, and didn't want him near her at all.

He continued, his voice hoarse. "I didn't…"

Mean to get her upset? As if saying something along that nature could make her anything but.

"You didn't what?" Claire stifled another sob as she rubbed at her eyes again. The expression on Gray's face was full of regret. "You… you make it so hard sometimes."

"I know I do," he agreed weakly. His hand tentatively found its way onto her leg, a little bit above her knee, over her clothed thigh.

She froze, lifted her chin to stare at him as he stared right back at her.

His touch was ice and she was the fire. It overwhelmed her; made her want to cry even harder.

"I'm sorry," he said.

The tears were causing her to crumble—how long could they keep doing this for?

"Sometimes you make my heart freaking hurt. I wish you weren't like this," she sobbed. "Sometimes I really hate you."

His hand… she couldn't explain it, but its presence felt different on her leg with this statement that she uttered. She didn't know if it was true or not, but it was what she was feeling.

"Well, I don't hate you," is all that Gray responded with.

Claire still felt his touch, heavy on her leg. She wondered what he wanted.

Wondered what she even wanted anymore.

She told herself that she didn't care, and said nothing back to him in response. Instead, she just attempted to try and calm down her relentless crying that continued.

It hardly worked.

She just wanted him away from her.

And it was like he read her mind. "I can go if you want me to, Claire."

"Yes," she finally managed to say. Her voice still wavered, and she just needed to get away from him. He immediately dropped his hand as she turned her body, in vain attempt at composing herself, but the tears were still all too real. "I need to be left alone right now."

She listened as he slowly walked away from her, slipped on his shoes, and was out her front door in ten seconds flat.

Claire lifted her face to her mirror, and for the first time in her whole life, saw someone she didn't recognize.

Maybe the way that she was changing was inevitable.

For the best.


"No, no," Elli said harshly, into the phone. She gripped an immaculately white paper in her hands. The way she squeezed it made it crinkle and ruin, but it was wrong anyway. They'd have to send her another one, a correct one this time, regardless. "You don't understand. There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake." Doctor Jin's voice was levelled over the other end of the phone. He always had such cold bedside manner, and right now was no exception.

"I'm telling you that there's an error."

"There is not any error, ma'am."

"You don't understand," Elli explained desperately. She tried to keep her voice above a whisper to avoid Trent hearing her, but she was finding herself manic and distraught. The floor felt as though it could just collapse beneath her at any given moment. "You need to run the DNA again, I don't care."

"We ran it six times, Miss Eleanor. I am sorry, but the DNA's that you provided were not a match."

"That's impossible," she whispered, cradling the phone's receiver into her hands. She immediately thought about all of the coaxing that she did just to get Stu to let her take his blood; he had put up such a fight.

And it was all for nothing.

"That's impossible," Elli repeated. Her body felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.

And maybe that was because it didn't.

"I… I am sorry, ma'am. If there is anything—"

Elli slammed the phone into its base, the sound ricocheting off the wall. She slowly fell to her knees, slid her body down, burying her head in her hands as she hyperventilated.

She was wrong.

She was never wrong, not now, not ever.

But she was. She was wrong. Trent… it wasn't him. He wasn't that forgotten ghost back in Dallas.

How could he have felt so familiar though, like a twisted memory that she'd lived through before, and still not be the match to Stu's DNA?

She was just a stupid whore, simple as that. She would never be able to tell her son who his father was, never be able to give him the truth, never be able to get herself out of this mess.

"Elli!" she heard Trent yell, over her panicked breathing. "Get over here now."

She was trapped.

More alone than she'd ever been in her whole, entire life. She had nothing; she was going to be stuck like this, stuck like a stupid, abused little slut. All that she was good for.

All that she was.

Her footsteps had a mind of their own; Trent kept calling, and she had no choice but to make her way to the sound of his voice, to let him do what he wanted before she had to go home to her little family.

No choice.

And as he climbed on top of her, Elli couldn't help but ask herself: what the hell am I going to do now?


Claire was shaking so badly when she hopped into her shower, that she couldn't even squeeze the shampoo into her open palm correctly. She was shaking as she put her makeup on, mascara getting all over her eyelid. She was shaking when she couldn't decide on what skirt to wear, selecting the first pair of jeans that she saw and throwing the outfit on her bed. She thankfully didn't shake while she curled her hair, though; maybe it was her body's way of preventing her from burning herself. Instead, she just stared into her reflection, trying her best to blink back tears because her eyeliner wasn't waterproof in the slightest.

She looked at Gray's lone hat on her table, realizing that this, whatever they ever had, would forever mean nothing. It had never meant anything in the first place; she told herself that right now, she was sick of being friends with someone like him. He was just a complete, stubborn dick, and he'd never be able to see his own faults. She even tried reasoning with him, she tried so hard to be patient, and then he just threw all that at her, like a heartless prick.

She would rather not have that in her life right now.

Even if hating him weren't true, it was easier to convince herself that she did, so that she wouldn't have to feel anything else.

Claire unclipped her heated curls to let them fall and loosen against her bare, naked skin. She searched through her drawer for something unconventional to wear underneath her planned outfit tonight, trying not to be afraid. It was the not-knowing of the evening that scared her the most; she was frightened of what she thought would happen, what was supposed to happen, and everything in between.

Her mind was effectively blocking out her promise, and whether this was unconscious or not, it helped calm her down; made her feel like any other normal gi-

Sorry, any other normal young woman. She told herself that it didn't matter, whatever happened tonight was meant to be. That she couldn't lose Trent—that she liked this foreign, scary, new feeling. That she didn't really care what happened.

Even if this was a lie.

Nothing is going to happen, she inwardly prayed.

Claire found herself tangled.

She frowned as she rifled through her intimates. She couldn't locate the purple thong that Karen got her—and maybe this was a golden sign from the universe, in a way.

She nearly scolded herself for thinking like this.

It's just that... maybe it meant that nothing would have to be sealed in stone.

She shut her door, not allowing herself to wonder where Gray was, blocking the world out for a bit.

She needed a break from it all—everything was so exhausting.

"My love," Trent said, upon answering his door. He frowned, his face lacking any deep creases in his smile lines. His skin looked tighter than usual, did she not notice that this morning? "What's the matter?"

Claire shook her head, forcing a grin. Looking at him all handsome like this, it didn't seem so hard to muster up anymore. His house smelt delicious, and he wore accidental matching clothes to her own: both of them in black long-sleeved shirts and blue pants. She almost laughed, kissing him deeply. Her mind slipped as she held him close.

He squeezed her against his body. "I love you."

"I can't believe how much I had missed you," Claire explained, hugging him tightly. She needed something stable and he felt stable; this was the stable in her life.

Trent kissed her hair down to her ear and neck, causing her to shudder. She closed the door with the back of her heeled boot, lips fervent on his.

It's not like Claire didn't… look, she had wants and desires, too. Just, not exactly in that sense. But she was always curious. One time, she found a recipe that was titled "better-than-sex" brownies, and the name of it just confused the heck out of her. How could something that sounded so painful and intense be better than brownies? We're talking B-R-O-W-N-I-E-S here, people. Like, no thanks.

And it's not like she knew how to… make herself feel good at all, either. Everything was too sensitive and heightened down there; she was way too tight, and it scared her into not even wanting to try and figure out her body. Plus, then she'd have to go to confession for trying to… masturbate, ew, and how do you even tell a priest that? It wasn't worth the potential trip to hell that her church back home said you'd be doomed for if you didn't repent over it afterward.

But, when Claire had kissed Trent behind her barn, when the hardness in his pants rubbed that one spot between her legs, she… was very… aroused. God, she sounded so lame, she should just start saying horny or wet like Samantha from Sex and the City did.

She was doomed.

"Come, sit down," Trent told her, weaving his fingers through hers. His skin was cold like usual, so she cupped her hands between his own, trying to warm him up.

"You're freezing," Claire giggled, shivering.

She thought of his hands on her body, and immediately tensed up.

"Help me get warm then," he said with a playful glint in his eyes. He brought her to his kitchen, where a candlelit spread had been laid out.

Her heart swooned. Any doubt ever, in her whole mind about everything, was replaced with her love for him.

And Trent made it all perfect—every single thing. Nothing was out of place; he did everything just right, and the only words that could exit her mouth were ones out of sheer love. She loved this man, she always had. Her heart swarmed and her body responded to his, with everything—she just truly loved him.

He said all of the right things, made her feel wanted in every regard. They talked throughout dinner about his life back home… she asked if he would ever take her there one day. And he beamed, glad that she had finally warmed up to the idea. But Claire wanted to meet his parents, even if the mention of them made him look weary. Family was a complicated subject—hadn't her roommate taught her this?

"Claire," Trent said.

"Yeah?" She had finished clearing the table; it was the least that she could do after he had planned all of this. She had her back to him, placing all of the nice cutlery in his luxe dishwasher. He stood behind her, out of her peripheral as he fiddled with something.

"Can you take out two wine glasses? I want to share a drink with you."

"I… Okay. That sounds lovely." Claire wasn't one to drink, but on a beautiful evening like this, how could she say no? She reached onto her tippy toes into his cupboard, retrieving the wine glasses and placing them down on the counter. She turned around.

Only to see her boyfriend down on one knee.

Her heart nearly stopped beating entirely.

Claire froze as he reached into his pocket, a little black box in hand.

"I have wanted to do this for so long," Trent stated, expression soft and warm. He pulled her closer to him because she was still immobilized, her mouth hanging open like an idiot. "I should have made you mine sooner, but… Lord, Claire. I need you by my side, as my woman for the rest of my days on this earth. Will… will you marry me?"

Too young, not ready to settle down, don't have enough money saved up.

She frenetically pushed all of those thoughts away, the doubts getting evicted from her mind as she dropped her hand, nodding through newfound tears.

"Oh, my… oh, gosh, Trent. Yes! Yes, of course I'll marry you!"

He smiled, wiping his eye, slipping the beautiful diamond on the fourth finger of her dominant hand. He stood up, pulling her closer as he planted the most passionate kiss over her lips. She held him back, the ring dazzling and heavy. She thought he was going to have to pinch her, like this was all some elaborate dream.

"Oh, my gosh," she repeated, staring at the diamond. She had never owned a ring before, not in her whole life, but no big deal… there was just a freaking engagement band resting right above her knuckle!

Trent laughed, pulling back to stare at her so lovingly. He gazed down at the ring on her finger, kissing her again more feverishly.

"How long have you planned this?!" she asked, breaking away from him. She had to keep dabbing at her inner corners to prevent her tears from falling—she was so happy.

"I ordered it before I left for back home, but I made the final payment for it this morning." Trent winked. "It looks stunning on you."

Her heart pounded, and then—

"Who knows?" she whispered.

He seemed to smirk at this. "You."

"Duh." Claire laughed nervously, her head full of jitters. She never expected… ever… her engaged?!

"Just you." He nuzzled her neck. "And the blacksmith shop owner. But, I can't wait to announce it to the whole town."

She stared down at the ring, at all that it represented—the promise, the commitment, the sheer dedication and love. She felt herself weeping all over again. It was an enormous weight, in the best way possible.

"And," Trent continued, placing the jewelry box that had contained the ring back in his pocket.

Claire laughed through her tears. "Another surprise?"

He retrieved an envelope from the table, handing it to her and nodding for her to open it.

She did with shaky hands, scanning the document before frowning in confusion. It was a receipt for a bill of sorts.

"What… what's this?"

"I told Thomas that your next few payments would be covered by me. There it all is: your water bill, your heating bill, your air conditioning." He paused, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Your house mortgage."

Claire's face dropped. Did she hear him correctly? "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"Well, you said that I didn't have a say in anything if I didn't pay for it, so." Trent nodded at her warmly. "I paid for it, love."

… Oh.

"U-um."

"Therefore, I do have a say in it."

Claire didn't move for a solid five minutes. She just kept scanning the document, a fog of realization settling in.

"I don't like the way that he speaks to you or me, Claire," said Trent firmly. He didn't have to clarify who he meant. "You're doing him a favour, and he's ungrateful as hell."

She didn't know what to say, her mind was incomprehensible.

"I-I can't accept this."

"Of course you can. I took care of it, because you need to see how not right all of it is."

"Trent," she said softly. "You… you shouldn't have… you really didn't have to—" The money that he must have spent with all of this made her feel ridiculously guilty.

What was going to happen now? Sure, she was pissed with Gray at the moment, but she couldn't just—

Trent waved his hand. "We can talk about it more, later, Claire, but you deserve better. You don't need a jackass like him in your life."

Claire set the paper down, but her eyes stayed glued to the document. Her stomach was in knots. "We can… we can talk about this more later, you're right."

She felt Trent's eyes on her as he got up to pour their drinks, eventually returning with two filled glasses of deep burgundy wine. She surveyed them, picking the one that looked least full in comparison to the other.

He grabbed it from her hands, gesturing for her to select the other one. "That one's yours, I added something to mine that you wouldn't like."

She just offered him a weary, small smile, taking the wine glass and sipping from it. Her mind was still going in circles, but she told herself to relax. Things would work themselves out; it would all be good.

Trent hadn't brought up… anything worrisome tonight, actually. Well, worrisome in that regard. With each sip of her wine, she was feeling better already. Claire listened to the little clink of metal against her glass that her ring was responsible for. Would this be the kind of sound that she'd get used to hearing? Every time.

"This is how it's supposed to be," said Trent. He clutched her free hand. "This is how I need you."

Claire nodded lightly as she forced herself to finish her drink—she had the urge to kiss him, to have him all to herself.

He watched with careful eyes.

"Like a family," she said, her head still swimming. The room felt so open and airy, she was warm and she felt oh-so-loved. Her head span, in a good way. She felt like she hadn't a care in the world. Is this why people regularly drank?

"You're mine, Claire," Trent told her, kissing her gently.

"I love you," she mumbled, hand setting her glass down. It knocked over from her unsteadiness. She felt so sleepy; food and wine and an engagement made the best combo.

An engagement?!

Claire felt her lids get heavy, eyes going all glassy. But Trent's beautiful figure was right in front of her, and she felt so warm, so happy to be in his presence.

"Come with me," he said, pulling her hand. The world suddenly looked all loopy, and she nearly stumbled into him. His hands straightened her body up, supported her as they walked. It was as though she was stepping on a fluffy cloud.

"Remember our exam?" Trent asked, his lips on her neck.

Claire blinked, not remembering where she was two minutes ago, how she had even gotten there.

"Ah… um, mhm."

"Come," he told her, kissing her hair, her collarbone, leading her away from it all. She lost herself in everything. She felt wired but numb—what a wonderful feeling.

What a feeling. And she required more of it. More of him. More and more and more and more.

And more.