Barriers

by krose13

Unlike everyone else in town, Gray wants nothing to do with Claire. He can't stand her, despite all her attempts to befriend him. But when one small mistake leads to one bigger problem, he might be seeing a lot more of her than they both had planned. Updated rating to M for language and adult themes, based on guidelines.

26. From Here

If there was ever an appropriate time to start worrying, it sure as hell seemed to evade me at all costs. Either I spent exorbitant amounts of time overthinking meaningless details or didn't even consider what could possibly go wrong until reality sucker punched me in the gut. It was safe to say I didn't have the most trustworthy gut to begin with, but in most cases, it was all I had. That didn't stop me from second-guessing myself anyway.

The first wave of dread trickled in when I stepped onto Freedom Fields at 8:30am sharp, ready to help Claire like I'd promised. It usually took a few minutes of wandering to spot Claire on the property. But even after checking the usual spots, I still hadn't found her. Granted, I'd rarely been to her farm this early in the day, so I easily fed myself half-hearted reassurances about where else she could be.

After I'd searched the stable, barn, and reluctantly, the chicken coop, anxiety washed away every one of those reassurances. The foal and chickens were out roaming the property, feed lined their bins, and soaked dirt surrounded the latest sprouts—all signs that Claire had been around somewhat recently.

Naturally, I retraced my steps—because Goddess forbid I actually trust myself enough to believe my eyes the first time. Every single awful explanation for Claire's absence crossed my mind as I tore down the same paths I'd paced earlier. And still, fucking nothing.

So I ended up outside the door to Claire's farmhouse after scouring the place like a fucking madman. I was about eight knocks in when my she's probably sleeping excuse fizzled away, sinking into the deepest pit of my stomach.

When I finally turned the handle to an unexpectedly unlocked front door, I was beyond the point of considering the ramifications of my actions. Streams of sunshine peeking through the curtains illuminated heaps of blue blankets thrown across the couch in an otherwise empty living room and a desolate kitchen to match.

But I called Claire's name anyway as if she were bound to pop out of thin air. Which, given my experiences in this house, wouldn't have surprised me.

Before her name could leave my mouth a second time, a sliver of yellow light glowing underneath the bathroom door caught my eye.

As my hurried steps brought me closer, I noticed that same artificial light tracing the slimmest of spaces between the door and the frame. Seeing it was the most promising sign I'd gotten all morning, I didn't hesitate before peering in the cracked door.

And there she was. I should have been relieved that my search was finally over, and I probably would have been if I'd found her any other way.

Claire balled herself in the bathroom corner, wedged between her shower tub and the wall. A tangled knot of blonde hair hung loosely from the top of her head, shrouding the face buried into her knees. Stray wads of toilet paper littered a trail along the brown tiles, leading to the open toilet across from her. I'd been in the same slumped scene more times than I'd care to admit, so it didn't take much to deduce that she'd been puking.

I expected some sort of response from Claire after showing up in her bathroom, let alone her home uninvited. And honestly, it would have been more reassuring too. If I hadn't looked so closely, I wouldn't have noticed the minuscule rise and fall of the black t-shirt clinging to her back. So maybe she'd actually been sleeping, but the bathroom was the last place I would have expected or wanted to find it happening.

It only took a brief sight of my watch to return the urgency of the morning to my brain. The two of us needed to be in Rose Square by ten with harvest in hand, and we had about an hour to make that happen. I knew timeliness had always been a struggle for Claire, but fuck, even she wouldn't want to be late. As stressed as she'd been, I could tell she'd been looking forward to today.

Or at least, that's what I told myself as I worked up the courage to kneel in front of her and gently shake her shoulder.

Claire stirred after a few more impatient shakes, groggily lifting her head to peer at me with half-lidded eyes.

"Mmmm…wha…" A bolt of lightning shot down her spine when she finally recognized me in front of her. Her hands flew to the floor, ready to scramble to her feet. "Why are—you're—"

"Don't," was the only thing I could manage as both hands clamped down on her shoulders. "Sorry—just wait. You can't shoot up like that."

Claire weakly pushed against my light grip before reluctantly easing back into her seat. She brought a hand to slowly rub her eyes, temple, and then forehead with a drawn-out yawn.

"Why are you here right now?" she finally groaned, greeting me with a glare I desperately hoped was solely the byproduct of napping on the bathroom floor.

But still, that question made me want to dive headfirst into the bathtub. Especially considering I'd traded my day off to Gramps to be here at her request.

"You asked me to come," I not-so-nicely reminded her as I recoiled, using newly free hands to fix my hat. "And I could be askin' you the same shit."

She slowly stretched her neck before turning to the window behind the tub and staring with newfound curiosity. "Wait… what time is it?"

"'Bout nine or—"

"Shit!" The fire reignited behind those tired eyes. I could hear her breath pick up again as she struggled to maneuver heavy limbs into cooperating with the dumbest of plans. "Shit, shit—I can't believe I did this."

My hands were back on her rising shoulders as fast as they possibly could. "Claire," I pleaded, pushing against her second reckless attempt to spring up. "I already told you—"

"We–we need to leave in less than an hour." I could hear the building panic in her voice as she pushed against me, but her darting eyes avoided mine. "And there's still so much I have to do— shit, shit. Such an idiot —"

"Stop. Claire. Please," I tried again, struggling against my growing frustration. Clearly, she needed patience, but I wasn't sure how much more I had left in me to give. "I… it's—everything—just, it's gonna be okay. We'll get it all taken care of. But if you pass the fuck out, you can't get any of it done."

Claire didn't say anything to that. But she'd also stopped trying to fight me, so I accepted the smallest of victories.

"I'll help you up," I added, trying with every fiber in my being to not let the impatience show. "Just… not so fast."

Which, again, elicited absolutely nothing from Claire.

I dropped my hands when I finally felt Claire's shoulders relax. Her gaze moved from her lap as she groaned, letting her head fall back against the wall with a reverberating thud.

I had to fight the urge to reach out to her, but I couldn't help cringing at the sound. "Don't be doin' shit like that either—"

"I can't believe I fell asleep here," Claire moaned the complaint like it was nothing.

So I just fucking went with it. "Uh… yeah. How'd you manage that one?" I asked with a heavy, controlled exhale. At least she wasn't freaking the fuck out anymore.

"Well, I couldn't sleep, so at like, I don't know… four or something, figured I'd get some work done, y'know?" She sighed and hugged her legs closer to her chest. "I was in the coop and then like, out of nowhere was just… on fire, like, buckets of sweat, nauseous… Somehow I dragged myself in here to, y'know, get it all out, and…." Claire trailed off with a shrug as if puking to the point of passing out was a completely regular occurrence. "Guess it just took it out of me."

"Oh, fuck," was my gut reaction. I didn't even want to picture Claire going through that ordeal; seeing her now was terrible enough. "You doin' okay now?"

"I don't think I have anything left to yak…." A wry smile formed on her unsettlingly pale face. "But I mean, I guess. I'm better than I was, just…." she faltered instead of finishing the thought and returned her face to her knees just in time to muffle a long groan.

I almost couldn't stand looking at her like that for too long. It didn't seem right. Somebody so strong and full of life, sitting weak and depleted on the bathroom floor. Maybe it was guilt or just plain selfishness, but the need to do something overwhelmed me. All I could think about was how I could take all the weight off her shoulders to make her feel better, turn back time, anything that would stop her from feeling the way she did. Sure, I couldn't actually do any of that, but I could at least follow through on my promise to help.

"Alright," I started, clearing my throat with what I hoped sounded like purpose, "what needs to get done?"

Claire finally lifted her head when I was about to ask the question again. "The farm should be all good—"

"It is."

Dark blue eyes narrowed in on me, wordlessly eliciting an explanation for such a definitive answer. Which didn't give me a ton of time to devise something that didn't make me sound like a fucking creep.

"I just—when I was lookin' for you earlier, I checked. You weren't around, but shit looked taken care of. That's how I ended up here."

"Oh." She held her lips closed, taking a painfully long moment to recalculate. "I… Okay. Alrighty. So… obviously, I still need to shower and brush my teeth. Y'know, get ready and stuff." Her eyes moved to the ceiling as if she were reading from a list. "All the produce in storage needs to be washed and packed up, then we need to haul it to the square and meet up with Doug, prep, and…." But saying it all aloud led to a look of panicked realization, precisely what I'd been trying to avoid. " Shit. Gray, this is bad."

"Take your shower." I pushed to my feet and extended a hand to Claire before she could say anything else. "I'll start washin' n shit. Help if you get done in time."

Claire didn't take the hand and instead just stared at it like she couldn't believe I had the audacity to do such a thing.

"I didn't ask you to do that." And her monotone quip back was not the thanks I'd expected either.

"Bullshit, you didn't." I couldn't help rolling my eyes as she just stared at my outstretched palm like her request days prior was a figment of my imagination. "You literally fuckin' asked me to come help you. And I dunno, that sounds pretty fuckin' helpful to me."

Instead of a comeback, she matched my glare, holding it for far too many rapid heartbeats and finally breaking it with a defeated huff.

"Fine. Thank you," Claire muttered through a clenched jaw—which, again, wasn't the thanks I'd been expecting, but it was the one I would have to live with.

Claire glanced back at my hand and promptly averted her gaze to the tiles after a few silent seconds. "I'm not not taking your hand to be a bitch or anything. I'm just kinda, uh…." An airy laugh interrupted the words she struggled to speak. "Y'know… not wearing real pants, so…."

"Oh." I hadn't noticed, but it only took one quick look to spot the pile of denim fabric haphazardly tossed to the side of the toilet. Claire's t-shirt had been long enough to cover her lower half in her current position, so in my initial panic, I hadn't given it a second thought.

Now it was all that I could think about.

Claire blinked at me a couple times like she was waiting for something. "Yeah…"

"Then, um, I'll—yeah," I sputtered, spinning around and robotically marching to the door in what absolutely took the cake for the most awkward fucking exit ever. It didn't matter. I just needed to get the fuck out of there and fast.

I almost slammed the door behind me, and within a minute, rushing water echoed on the other side. Now that Claire was taken care of, I needed to focus on prepping like I'd promised… not whatever was happening behind that door. So as a reluctant man of my word, I dragged myself to the kitchen and got to work.

Scrubbing the dirt-encrusted potatoes and corn had been a breeze compared to the tomatoes. Even still, less than half remained when I heard Claire's steps hurrying on the hardwood behind me. I took a quick inventory of the brimming crates of clean produce lining the counter, then back to my watch. Maybe thirty minutes had passed, and I was just about finished. It wasn't much, but it was nice to finally have some sense of control over the situation.

"How are we on time?" I could only see Claire out of the corner of my eye when she stood beside me, but I'd been able to smell her since she stepped into the kitchen. It was like a sudden downpour had soaked the forest outside, and that sweet, earthy scent was being mainlined through the window.

And I hated it. Hated that it was familiar, hated that I liked it… the list went on.

"Fine." I added one of the last tomatoes to the pile beside the sink. "Probably leave in five or ten."

I finally turned to Claire when a few seconds passed without her reply. She stood on her tiptoes to inspect the bins of washed potatoes and tomatoes organized on the linoleum surface while furiously rubbing a towel over her damp hair. She tossed that same towel into the hall behind her after a few moments and returned to the harvest like it was nothing.

Either way, it didn't seem like I was getting any other response, so I returned to work.

"You didn't shuck the corn?" Claire criticized after a few minutes.

"No?" I knew I shouldn't, but I gave in and looked again.

Claire met me with a dramatic hand on her hip, the other gripping the counter beside the crate of corn in question. A fresh set of overalls and a green long sleeve replaced the t-shirt I was still trying to forget. Still, something about it was so comfortably familiar. Warmth flushed her cheeks, and she was glaring at me with intent—it was much more the Claire I was used to seeing. And even when she looked at me like that, she was just… so damn cute.

"I'm just confused," Claire's sass continued through my delusions. "Like, I thought out of all the things, shucking corn would be the first thing you'd want to do." She shook her head with a disappointed sigh. "You know we're going to eat it, right?"

I probably could have come up with a witty comeback in any other instance, or even just reminded her that I was the one doing her a favor. In this sad case, though, I only managed a halfhearted "Sorry." And then turned back to the sink like a fucking idiot.

"I mean, it's fine—I'm mainly joking. We can do it in there, but like, I'm just saying." I could feel her playful glare lingering on me before it shifted back at the crates. "Everything else looks good, though. Do you want my help finishing up?"

"No," I answered way too quickly. "Finish whatever other shit you gotta do. I'm almost done anyway."

But she didn't budge from her spot beside me.

It took every ounce of my willpower to focus on finishing off the wet tomatoes in the sink in front of me. But every time I dried one and placed it in the crate, my eyes gravitated to Claire. Because there she was, just… standing there watching me like she hadn't been in a panic about leaving less than an hour prior. I'd like to say I didn't point that out to her to avoid an unnecessary argument, but a part of me liked knowing she was watching me. The other part hated it, hated being watched so closely, and most of all hated that I had no idea what she was thinking.

Because all I could think about was how I'd finally gotten a real glimpse into how pregnancy was starting to affect Claire. Despite every attempt Claire made to convince me that she'd been fine whenever I came by, she wasn't her usual self anymore. There had been some struggle, but Claire was finally letting me in close enough to get glimpses of that vulnerable side stashed behind the curtain. Maybe I was one of the only people she could share it with, but I couldn't help holding on to the thought anyway.

Claire was good at hiding things when she wanted, but I knew there would be a time when even she couldn't hide what was going on with her. Sure she felt like shit today, but she still looked the same to me. And probably to others too. Granted, it had only been a matter of weeks, and I had absolutely no frame of reference to go on. Still, for the first time, I wondered what it would be like when Claire finally started showing.

And that thought was frighteningly devoid of the dread I was so used to associating with our situation. I had no idea what to do with the nervous energy bouncing off the walls of that once hollow space. There was no possible way I was excited… but it sure as hell wasn't the fear I'd become accustomed to.

The last tomato almost slipped out of my hands as I tried to grapple and fight whatever twisted shit was taking over my brain.

"I was over here worried about the corn…." Claire started as she leaned over the counter beside me, "but should I be concerned about how you've been handling the tomatoes?" She raised an eyebrow as the beginnings of a smirk spread to her lips.

And for fuck's sake, there couldn't have been a worse time for her to tease me like that. It's not like I had a response on the ready—I was too busy trying to figure out what in me had finally snapped and why the fuck I was fantasizing about Claire being pregnant.

"Just, hands pruned." I wiped my palms across my jeans and turned away from the sink.

Claire copied the movement with a suspicious hum. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I lied, avoiding her insistent stare.

"Alrighty then… you're just being super weird all of a sudden." I could tell more was coming when Claire clicked her tongue at me. "Do you have to puke now or something? Because I feel like this works best if only one of us is a shitshow at a time, y'know?"

"No. I'm fine," I rushed to respond. Though it probably would have been more believable if I could've looked her in the eyes. "Just, we should probably go."

An exasperated sigh came from Claire as she crossed her arms. "Fine. But don't forget: you're helping me shuck when we get there. And if Doug and Ann get mad at me, I'm blaming it on you."

I didn't have it in me to banter with her anymore. Shutting it down was the fastest way for me to coax Claire into helping me load up the crates so we could leave. But despite every one of Claire's apparently unintentional attempts to delay or derail us, I somehow managed to keep us on track without losing my fucking mind. I considered it a miracle when we finally made it off of her property and onto the cobblestones with our sanity mainly intact.

The Harvest Festival was one of the few I usually made an effort to attend. Considering ample food and alcohol were always a staple, attending had been a no-brainer for me. Some traditions I'd never bothered to learn had families providing signature dishes and delicacies—or in Duke and Manna's case, more wine than anyone knew what to do with. Everybody else typically contributed ingredients to a stew of the season's harvest that Doug spent the entire day toiling over. Contributions had never been my forte, so I usually ended up bringing whatever Ann picked out for me.

This time, I was helping haul more than I'd ever thought I'd contribute. Not to mention, I'd never been this early to a festival. So early that Rose Square's only inhabitants were Doug and Ann beside what was likely the world's most enormous cauldron, a small makeshift prep table, and stacks of unassembled decorations. Something about being here so early felt almost… wrong. Like me, of all people, shouldn't be allowed here behind the scenes.

But here I was.

Claire sped up as we headed north into the square and went into overdrive when Ann noticed us approaching. On the other hand, Doug likely had no idea we were even in the vicinity—he was too busy furiously messing with the beginnings of a fire underneath the massive cauldron pot. Even though I saw it every year, the size of the thing never ceased to blow my mind.

"Wow!" Ann greeted us, leaving her post behind a cutting board. "No freakin' way!"

Claire grinned wider than I'd seen all day. "How'd I do?" she asked, giddy with excitement. All I wanted to think about was how stupid it was to get excited over something so silly, not how fucking adorable it was.

"Not only are you on time, but you're one whole minute early." Ann teased, shooting Claire what some might consider a wink. I had to hand it to Ann—despite being physically incapable of blinking one eye at a time, that never stopped her from trying anyway.

"And I come bearing gifts!" Claire sang, lifting her crate of tomatoes higher before throwing her head in my direction. "And Gray."

"I see that." Ann directed her attention to me, and I tried to avoid looking at her knowing grin for too long. "Long time no see." It was the same look she'd given me hours earlier when I told her where I was headed, and it had the same nerve-inducing effect now as it did then.

"Sup." I gave a subtle nod, careful not to disturb the pair of crates stacked in my arms.

"I'd probably still be at home if it wasn't for him," Claire added, choosing the absolute worst time to bump her arm into mine.

I regained balance and headed toward the table Ann had been working on.

"Huh." Ann raised a brow as she helped remove the crates from my arms. "If you can manage that one, maybe you're more helpful than I give you credit for." She turned back after unloading everything on the table. "I should rope you into helping me more often."

"Well, he should have a lot more free time now if you actually need him." I froze as the words left Claire's mouth. "He was mainly just helping me get ready for the festival, y'know? So I don't have to hog him anymore."

It was embarrassing how easily a couple nonchalant sentences could fuck me up, leaving me spiraling and wondering what the hell it all meant. Claire hadn't deceived me—she'd been upfront about needing help until the festival, but… I couldn't help expecting her to need me beyond that. Which, ultimately, was just the product of my unrealistic expectations. Again.

Because I wanted Claire to need me beyond that, I didn't care how selfish it sounded. Even if she didn't like to admit it, Claire knew she'd need help if she wanted to continue working through the pregnancy. I wanted to be the one there to help her when she needed it, but I would be lying if I said that was my only intention. As unappreciative and stubborn as she could be, there was something… addicting about being wanted by somebody as capable and independent as her. And even though I'd never admit to her how special that made me feel, I was beyond scared of losing it.

I finally turned my head to Claire as she placed the crate beside mine. "Dunno about that. I'll still be comin' by, right?"

"To do what?" Claire lowered her brow. Something about that irked me—she'd admitted to needing my help before. Was she just trying to put up a show for Ann?

"There's still tons of shit you need to show me before spring," I attempted to confidently remind her, despite being unable to come up with a single example of what that shit might be.

"Hmmm," she pondered out loud, scratching at the collar of her shirt. "Well, I mean, yeah… I guess. If we're thinking that far ahead. It's just… it's not like you have to come over every day if you don't want to or anything. Especially if Ann needs your help too." Claire paused and, in the most unexpected turn of events, beamed up at me with a fresh smile. "But, like, you're always welcome to come hang! You know I'll put you to work."

I opened my mouth, but I was too stunned to come up with words to reply. Truthfully, I envisioned Claire laughing in my face, so there was no contingency plan for this outcome. Just me, being awkward as fuck, as always.

Ann cleared her throat, reminding me that she was sitting front row, watching me flounder like an idiot. "Anyway, we should probably get prepping." When I glanced down to meet her stare, Ann looked seconds away from vomiting.

"What?" I couldn't help hissing down at her, poorly hiding the heat spreading up my neck.

Ann's only response to me was a brief, wordless brow raise before turning back to Claire. "But, uh, Claire, I know this is your first Harvest Fest, so I just wanted to warn you. Dad takes this whole thing pretty dang seriously, which is great! Don't get me wrong. But he can get a little… intense about some things. He spends weeks stressing about it… and just, it can be a lot."

"Oh, I get that," Claire replied with a snort. "I've been stressing about today for, like, at least the past week." And that was the fucking truth.

"Which I told you was completely unnecessary," Ann huffed. "But just know, if Dad says anything that's like… rude, he doesn't mean it."

"Again, totally get it."

"And you're awesome for that," Ann said as she squeezed Claire's shoulder. "I'm going to get started on the tomates and potates. You two wanna do something about that corn?"

It wasn't like either of us could say no to Ann even if we wanted to, so Claire and I just nodded. And that was the end of the conversation.

Ann recovered a large bin of food scraps from behind the prep table and dragged it between us. After flashing us a thumbs up, she returned to the cutting board and finished chopping the remaining herbs. I watched her pour them into a glass dish before effortlessly transitioning to tomatoes. Claire already had a half-husked ear in her grasp when I glanced back, so I did my best to catch up. A crate of shucked corn and only a few Doug outbursts later, we finally finished.

I'd only ever seen Rose Square in its final form on festival days. Watching how people in town came together to bring all the different pieces of the festival to life was a completely different experience. The process started slowly. First, Zack made several trips hauling unassembled wooden furniture to the square while Claire and I finished working.

As the pile grew, so did the crowd of helping hands surrounding it. By the time I was done, Cliff and Popuri accompanied Carter around newly added boxes overflowing with garlands of leaves and embroidered fabrics. Claire and Ann had been locked in conversation as they prepped, so I quickly joined the group as Thomas and Harris strolled into the square after them. Though I probably wouldn't have rushed if I had realized how swiftly I would be put to work.

I hadn't talked to Cliff much since he'd followed up on meeting Other Carter in Forget-Me-Not Valley. The last time we'd had a conversation beyond simple pleasantries was when Gramps had first arranged the meeting almost a week ago. So I wasn't too upset about being stuck building tables and chairs together.

Working alongside somebody who didn't feel the need to incessantly talk the entire time was refreshing too. It was amazing how much more I could get done without distraction. Though as we finished piecing together the last of the four long wooden tables, I couldn't help steering our minuscule conversations elsewhere.

"So you went to the valley yesterday?" I grabbed one of the chairs and placed it around the newly assembled table, not taking my eyes off Cliff.

He copied the action but didn't look my way as he pushed in the chair. "I did."

"And how was it?"

Cliff shrugged as he turned to grab another chair. "Fine."

"Fine as in…?" I asked, following to do the same.

But he didn't answer until both our chairs had been added to the table. "Well, he offered me a job on their dig site this winter."

"That's good, though, right?" I had to ask because he didn't sound too excited by the prospect.

"I guess." It sounded more like the response of somebody who didn't think it was all that good.

"It's a job, though, right?" I asked before thinking. Maybe it was selfish to expect him to be excited about it, but a job meant Cliff had the means to stick around. And that had been the goal, hadn't it?

"It's seasonal work," he corrected much quicker than I'd anticipated. "And if I ended up taking it… it wouldn't make sense for me to live here. Carter said he could set me up with lodging in town too, but…."

My stomach twisted into knots. "As in the valley?"

"Correct," Cliff answered, organizing the last chair around our table.

I aimlessly straightened a chair that didn't need it. "So… what're you gonna do?"

"I… I don't know yet," he sighed, tightening his grip around the back of the chair. "If I can't find anything else, I'll… probably have to take it."

"So you're still looking?" I asked faster than I probably should have.

"I'm always looking," Cliff answered, harsher than before. But his following sigh seemed to ease that all away. "I'll wait it out till the end of the month… but I don't really want to leave town."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't either." Though that seemed pathetic and ridiculous to admit. It wasn't about me—it was about what was best for Cliff. "But… I mean, you'd still be close by, right?"

"Yeah… I guess we'll see." Cliff pushed off the chair and surveyed the table and chairs arranged around us. "Looks like we're done here, though. I was going to check in with Carter."

"Yeah, I should probably do the same with Claire." I immediately added, "And Ann," when I realized how embarrassingly whipped that made me sound. As if that would help my case.

Luckily I only caught a glimpse of Cliff's small smile before he turned away. When I searched the rest of the square for Claire, I realized how much had been done since we'd first arrived that morning. A long table sat in front of the steaming cauldron, and a few glass casserole dishes and colorful bowls were being arranged on its surface by Lillia and Popuri. Doug was still furiously at work, but the rest of the town trickled in under rows of leaf garlands hung from the light posts.

I joined Ann and Claire, still mid-conversation, while families made their way into the square. People came in waves, dropping off a dish at the front and then congregating around the decorated tables. Elli escorted Stu and May to the cauldron when I noticed Mary add a large baking dish decorated with intricate florals that I immediately recognized. Seeing her out and about again was so strange that I couldn't help but stare. She joined her mom and her pack of gossip minions on the far side of the square, and I took that as my cue to move my attention anywhere else.

Everywhere I looked was something new. New dishes seemed to spawn on the table each time I glanced over, more people filled the once empty cobblestones, and their chatter grew louder by the minute. At this point in the festival, I was usually rolling in, not-so-patiently waiting for Thomas to give whatever dumbass speech he'd planned so we could finally eat.

But now, I wasn't just an outsider looking in, taking advantage of the free food and booze. My own two hands had helped bring the square to what it was now: the tables we'd be eating on, the chairs, the food we were celebrating. For the first time, it felt like I actually belonged amongst everyone else.

Neither Claire nor Ann seemed to be planning on finishing their discussion any time soon, so I continued scoping out the area. The embroidered leaves tracing the tablecloths caught my eye, and I followed the pattern along the serving table in front of the cauldron, now overflowing with platters, plates, and pans full of food. At the end of the table, Duke tapped one of several barrels stacked on the stones beside crates of glasses I recognized from the inn. He filled a goblet to the top with red wine before bringing it to his lips. I'd been intent on avoiding the area as a whole, but now I was watching closer than ever as Duke offered away more glasses to passing townspeople.

I probably stared for longer than I should have. But I couldn't help it. Was I just going to avoid alcohol forever? Surely there had to be some point where I could handle it again in some capacity. Controlling my impulses never worked out when I was at my worst, but I was curious if it would be different now. Even if it was just a little bit.

Not too long ago, I wouldn't have even considered just one drink… but maybe there was something to that. Or maybe it was just a slippery slope. I wasn't sure. It wasn't like I felt the overwhelming need to anymore… I just… wanted to try. Part of me wanted to be hopeful. The other was painfully aware of the past.

"Ann, I—sorry to interrupt," Rick's breathless voice surprised me. I turned my head as he hastily inserted himself between Claire and an open-mouthed Ann, "just, can I grab you? Please?"

She flickered a suspicious gaze between Claire and Rick. "Uh, hi, yeah, everything okay?"

"Karen," he exhaled as a sigh.

Ann's eye roll was one of realization. "What's she trying to sneak in?"

"Vodka."

"Oh." Ann tilted her head. "I guess that's not awful, it probably wouldn't taste great, but the alcohol would cook off—"

"No, no, no." Rick's voice was exasperated, like he'd already gone through Ann's same thought process. "She thinks she can 'spike' the stew if she adds it at the end."

"How would she even….?" Ann's initial frustration returned. "I'm gonna kill her. Where is she?"

"Getting wine, it's the only thing I could distract her with."

But sure enough, Karen was on her way towards us, two brimming glasses of red wine sloshing in her grip.

Ann turned to Claire and quickly muttered, "You and Gray go grab us a place to sit. I'm gonna deal with this real quick."

"O-oh, okay… um, does it matter where…?" Claire mumbled as she scanned the four long tables arranged in the center of the square and the crowds of people intertwined around them.

"No, just any, now go," Ann commanded the words in Claire's direction but based on the brief look that immediately came my way after, they were meant for me.

"Claire." I nodded my head toward the tables when her frazzled stare met mine. "Let's go."

She silently followed until we were walking side by side, the sounds of Karen and Ann's bickering fading behind us.

"Do you care where we sit?" Claire asked as we got closer to the growing crowd surrounding the center of the square.

"I don't give a fuck. That's more your deal, right?" I replied, hoping to get some sort of laugh, even a smile.

And while it was short-lived, I loved watching a smile sneak across her lips. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Both of our steps unconsciously stopped when we reached the dining space. The furthest two tables seemed occupied by people I wasn't too interested in sitting with, namely Mary's parents and their associated friends. Gramps sat beside Ellen and Elli at a closer table, leaving the one beside it empty. It was like Claire read my mind when she took determined steps towards the empty chairs.

"I think this one is good. We're close to the food; there's room for Ann, Karen, and Rick; we're by your grandpa…. Unless you want to go sit with him! You don't have to sit with—"

"Of course, I'm gonna sit with you guys." Which appeared to be exactly what Claire wanted to hear. She wanted me around. I didn't want to look too much into that thought, but that's exactly what I was doing.

Claire and I had settled into our chairs when Ann, Rick, and a pouty Karen took the three spots across from us. Ann gave me a smile as she eased into the seat like it was the first time she'd sat all day, which it likely was. Karen plopped into the middle chair with a dramatic huff, splashing bits of wine on the table as she set it down. Rick was so silent I didn't even notice he'd sat down until I'd heard him sip his wine.

Thankfully Claire broke the icy silence the trio had brought to the table, rambling on about how excited she was to be here. The bigger cities never had intimate celebrations like this, so her amazement made sense to me.

But I wasn't the only one who felt it. Claire's energy was contagious, melting through the chill on the other side of the table. It wasn't long before she'd inspired them to share stories of their first Harvest Festival. As much as I wanted to, I wasn't listening. All I could do was admire her. Radiant was the only word that came to mind. Even on her dark days, Claire was the brightest person I'd ever met.

After a long wait, the stew was finally ready for early dinner. As Doug came out from his hiding place behind the cauldron, the rest of the town found spots around the four long tables stationed in the middle of the square. I never gave Thomas much mind, but I could tell his yearly pompous speech was coming just by his stride to the front. It was easily the worst part of the festival, but at least it meant we could eat.

Shushing carried over fading voices as Thomas took a spot in front of the food table and cauldron. "Good afternoon all, and thank you for joining us for this exceptional Harvest Festival." He paused to make room for scattered applause and Duke's holler. "I want to thank everyone for their contributions this year, for Doug and Carter and all they do to maintain such a rich tradition. This year we're lucky enough to celebrate the harvest of our town's very own farm."

I couldn't help stealing a glance at Claire sitting beside me. She looked seconds from shooting out of her chair, beaming with an excitement that made the entire morning worth it.

"It's been far too long since we've had a farmer in town," Thomas continued as more heads in the square turned towards Claire with a predictable mix of polite smiles and whispers. "And today, as we give thanks to the goddess that provides us such bountiful gifts to celebrate, I hope you take time to appreciate the hands of those that worked hard to present what you see before you."

Cheering filled the square, and tables rattled with excitement that seemed directed at the hands bringing this festival to life—the community. I could understand why everyone was so excited, but I felt weird making a noise like that. Claire hollered beside me, and I just wanted to be included. So I pounded my fist on the table a few times and pretended I didn't feel awkward as fuck joining in.

"You all are too kind," Thomas's smug voice carried over the waning crowd. "As your mayor, it's my duty to keep my residents' best interests at heart. Though I am a humble man, I'm confident that putting that land back on the market was the best decision I've ever made. Rest assured, I plan on continuing Mineral Town's path to greatness."

A few claps came from the table behind us, but all I could see was Claire's frown in the direction of that dumbass top hat. And why wouldn't she? After weeks of excitement and nerves, she had to sit and watch the town's self-absorbed mayor take credit for all her hard work.

"We have a fantastic local harvest for you all this year; Aja Winery has provided another great batch of wine for us all. I hope everyone has a happy Harvest Festival!"

Crowds moved to the front of the square with plates in eager hands, and idle conversations filled space until folky music kicked on softly in the background. Claire remained in her seat, slumped and staring at her lap.

"Hey." I leaned in, trying to keep my voice low as the rest of our table pushed up to join the growing line, "You okay?"

I looked down when I felt Claire's hand softly squeeze mine under the table. "Yeah." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I should've given him the hammer when I had the chance."

I couldn't tell if that was a joke, but I laughed anyway. "He's a fuckin' idiot, and everyone here knows it too."

A brief smile flashed across her lips. When I was about to open my mouth, Doug put his hands on the back of Claire's chair and leaned down between us.

"I hope you didn't listen to a damn thing that man says." Doug didn't try to hide his voice from me, but it was still quiet enough to be masked by the chatter around us.

Claire quirked her head back, not only surprised by the words but their originator as well. "Huh?"

"Thomas," Doug answered like the name was a curse word. It sure was synonymous with a few of them. "That top hat is the only place big enough to keep that ego of his."

Claire took a few seconds to process and then forced what I guess could be considered a laugh. "Oh… yeah, that. It's whatever."

"Just wanted to let you know I'm proud of ya, kid." He moved one hand to pat her shoulder before giving one last squeeze. Something about it radiated dad, the action, his presence, the tone—all of it embodied what I imagined a good parent would be. "You've been doing great work around here, and you deserve the credit."

"Oh. Alrighty. Well… thank you," Claire answered uncharacteristically quietly, moving her hands and gaze to her lap. "That's… really nice of you."

"Of course," Doug answered with a nod before shifting to me. "And Gray, appreciate your help today. I'm glad you're out here gettin' involved."

I didn't know I needed that recognition until he'd said it with that grin. "It's the least I could do."

"Well, you two should go eat! Enjoy yourselves," Doug said with a solid pat on my shoulder. "I know I am." With one last wave, he headed back to his table alongside Duke and Basil.

I turned back to Claire. "What do you think? Wanna go get…." I trailed off when I realized Claire wasn't even looking at me.

She slightly turned her head in acknowledgment after I'd waved my hand in her face. "Sorry." Her face was flushed, a small smile on her lips, but she looked seconds away from letting tears fall from her glassy eyes.

I didn't have a single clue of how to interpret that look, but something about it struck a painful chord deep in my chest.

Plates and glasses clanged on the tabletop in sloppy succession as Karen flopped back into her seat. A glass of red wine was pushed across the table until it passed the centerpiece to Claire. "To celebrate my favorite farmer… since that dumbass won't."

"Oh." Claire quickly put on a new face, putting her hands up in protest. "Thanks, but I'm actually good—like, I haven't even eaten yet."

"Isn't Rick a farmer?" I asked before Karen could sling out any more bullshit.

Karen took a sip from a matching glass while holding a pointed glare in my direction. "We all know what I mean." Her smile returned as she shifted back to Claire. "But anyway, I got it for you, though. Can't let it go to waste, right?"

"I just… I'm not feeling it," Claire stuttered with a breathy laugh. "Plus, I'm starving—I need to eat something, like now."

"Claaaaaaaaireeeee," Karen's draw-out whine was at least a few decibels from inducing long-term hearing damage.

Claire responded with a similar rendition of Karen's name instead of telling her to fuck off, much to my disappointment. She repeated excuses about needing to get food but didn't even attempt to make an effort to do so. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why Karen was so damn pushy and why Claire was still appeasing her at this point.

Whatever the fuck this was, I had no intention of watching it all night. I wasn't sure what I'd do, but I had to do something. Something that would at least shut Karen up long enough to find some other way to distract her.

My eyes flickered between the glass of wine and Claire, who just stared at it like a deer in headlights.

"I'll take it, thanks." I snatched the glass from Claire and took a sip. The bitter taste on my tongue immediately made me wince and want to cough it all up. But I didn't, and I couldn't ignore the warmth when those drops touched my stomach. I tried to not let it show on my face as I set the glass in front of my plate. "I was thirsty."

Karen and Claire both gaped at me for two very different reasons.

"Uh, hey, asshole," Karen waved a hand in my direction, mugging my entire existence now. "That wasn't for you."

"Claire didn't want it." I took another sip to drive the point home, and I could feel it this time. That dizzy rush moved into my head, traveling down my chest. Somehow foreign, yet so familiar.

Karen put up a hand in my direction. "Whatever. It's been five minutes, and I'm already over you." She drank a long swig before leaning back in her chair. "Claire, I'll get you another one since this guy likes to ruin everything."

Claire didn't say a word as the chair across from her was hastily abandoned by somebody who probably didn't need to go get more wine. Especially since I hadn't really thought my initial plan through. I wasn't even sure if I would finish the current glass in front of me, let alone any others Karen was planning to push on Claire. And I knew she would. One wouldn't kill me; it probably wouldn't even buzz me. But it probably would leave people feeling some sort of way with me. More would just make it worse.

Right now, though, the only person I was worried about sat to my right, investigating me more intensely than I would have liked. The same one I'd just told that I wasn't drinking and that spending time with her was helping distract me from it. I was supposed to be earning her trust, but I'm sure I just looked like a fucking liar.

When Karen had finally gotten far enough away, Claire kicked the leg of my chair. "Let's go get food before she comes back." She was already out of her chair when I felt a few impatient pushes of encouragement on my arm.

I only had a split second to gulp down the rest of my wine and grab my plate before being yanked to the end of the line leading from the food. Finishing off every last drop before anyone else returned to our table would remove the evidence, but combined with the swift movement, my head was a muddled mess. Thanks to Claire, we ended up behind Gotz and Harris, slowly following them as the line brought us closer to the smells at the end.

"You didn't have to do that, y'know," Claire whispered to me after we'd been standing in silence.

I was relieved she finally broke the tension, but not enough to reassure me she wasn't mad. All I could be was honest. "Felt like I did. Didn't know what else to do."

"You didn't have to do anything," Claire insisted as we took a few steps forward. "And I thought you weren't drinking."

There it was. And as if on cue, my mouth was dry and unable to keep up with my brain. "I'm not—I mean, I haven't been."

"But you are now?" Maybe I was projecting, but her tone seemed disappointed. That was worse than mad, way worse.

"No?" I didn't have an answer to that question. "I just wanted to help. And I dunno… just didn't think one would be all that bad."

We took a few more steps before Claire finally sighed and shook her head. "I mean, I guess. You know yourself better than me. But…you must have some serious self-control."

That probably wasn't true, but I nodded anyway.

"So, just one?" Claire asked, slowly stepping forward.

"Unless you need me to step in again—"

"No. Just the one," she interrupted, making her hushed tone stern. "And you shouldn't even have to do that for my sake. You've been doing more than enough."

"Can you… uh," I couldn't believe I was even asking, "maybe not say shit to Ann or Cliff about it?"

Claire rubbed her lips together while she stared at the empty plate in her hands. She finally looked up, killing me with the defeat in her eyes. "Yeah."

Reaching the beginnings of the harvest feast laid out before us punctuated that conversation. I had to hand it to people here—while there wasn't much the boonies had to offer, delicious homemade food was always something I was thankful for. Being a small part of making this happen made me feel more connected to it than ever. It was a strange feeling I never thought I'd experience here.

We moved down the long table, trying to find room on my plate whenever something new caught my eye. I couldn't deny it made me happy to see Claire's plate just as full. Maybe she was just excited, but I hoped that was a sign that she was feeling better. With all the bullshit that had happened today, I just wanted her to enjoy herself.

Things finally seemed normal after we'd returned back to our seats. It was no surprise to see Ann loaded up with three plates in front of her, already making progress on the first. I was thankful Rick had taken the other spot next to Karen, so she had someone else to distract her. Based on Rick's untouched plate and Karen's lack of food, I figured we at least had a little time before her sights were back on Claire. Luckily, they paid no mind as I took my end seat beside Claire and dug in.

"You guys mind if I sit here?" I heard after minutes of food-induced silence.

All heads moved to Cliff at the end of the table, pointing to the chair beside Claire with his full plate.

I shouldn't have been surprised that Karen's first reaction would be to scoff. "Geez. The fact that you would even ask us that at this poin—"

"Karen!" Ann scolded her right on cue, pushing her arm lighter than I would have liked.

"What she means is, of course," Rick interjected, nodding at the empty seat across from him.

"He knows what I mean!" Karen defended herself to both of the people sitting beside her. "Right, Cliff?"

Cliff had already settled in his seat with a bite in his mouth when he realized Karen was addressing him. "Oh. Mmm. Yeah," he politely answered through bites.

"See?" Karen looked around the table to garner support and rolled her eyes when she didn't get whatever she had expected.

"I'd love to see you get some food," Ann said after swallowing a bite of bread.

Karen leaned over to peruse Ann's plates. "Got some to spare?"

"Go get your own!" Ann swatted her away with a swift wave of her fork. "The walk'll do you good anyway."

I couldn't describe how thankful I was when Karen snatched her plate from the table and stomped away to the front of the square. The whole table could feel the shift from chaotic to calm and finally eat in peace. That span of ten minutes was a much-needed reprieve. Until the conversations at our table shifted from compliments of our favorite dishes to where the fuck Karen went.

A large glass bottle full of clear liquid shook the table as the woman in question made her return—despite every single one of my prayers. Karen stood before her seat, and for some fucking reason, she was armed with a handle of vodka. The table went silent as everyone reluctantly readied themselves for whatever fresh hell was about to be unleashed.

"Where's your food?" Ann interrogated first, searching around Karen like it was somehow stashed in the back pocket of her jeans. "Or your plate?"

"I ate a snack while I was up there. Chill out." Karen paused, not so gracefully falling into her seat. "A couple of hot buns, deviled eggs—Good job babe, by the way, uh… Oh! A scoop of mashed potatoes."

"Like… straight out of the container?" Ann looked seconds away from retching.

"Yeah, I just wanted one bite." An answer that only sent Ann's head to her hands.

"Where did you get that?" Rick pointed to the bottle on the table.

Karen scoffed as she crossed her arms. "Oh, you mean, how did you find the vodka that was yours, that you—wait, no, I hid from you?"

Rick opened his mouth, silently fumbling over anything to say to that. Eventually, the only word that seemed fitting was, "What?"

"I saw you put it in the bush, Rick. I'm not an idiot."

Ann leaned behind Karen's chair and towards Rick. "You hid it in a bush?" she hissed loud enough for anybody at our table to hear. "Seriously? A bush?"

"You said you had her distracted!" Rick defended himself.

"You easily had enough time to take it home!" Ann continued to criticize. "Or like, anywhere that isn't a bush in Rose Square, Rick! What the heck?"

"Well, whatever, you guys win—I don't spike the stew." Karen leaned back in her chair and twisted the vodka's lid off before muttering under her breath, "Your loss."

"Karen, why can't you just add something normal for once?" Ann moaned as she finished her second plate, setting it on top of her previous victim.

"'Karen, why can't you just add something normal for once?'" Karen mocked as she brought the bottle to her lips for a quick swig. "You sound like my mom."

"So we're just… gonna drink the handle then?" Rick asked, carefully eying Karen's grip around the bottle's neck.

"Well, I'm gonna drink it," Karen sassed back, raising a brow. "You do whatever you want, Rick. I'm not gonna be the one stopping you from having fun."

Rick closed his eyes—I assumed to hide that they were rolling into the depths of his skull. "Karen, I don't want to do this tonight."

"Yeah, I know. You never do." Karen played up the dramatics again, flipping her hair with a sigh before setting her sights on the person across the table. "Buuuut, thankfully, I have Claire. Right, Claire?" She tried again when Claire didn't look up from her plate, "Claire? Hello? Claireeeee."

Claire's head finally perked up at the last mention of her name. "Hmm?" she asked through a mouthful of food.

"I need you right now, girl." Karen pressed her elbows on the table, leaning towards Claire with feigned importance. " Some people around here wouldn't know a good time if it pecked 'em on the ankle, you know what I mean?"

"Oh, for sure," Claire immediately agreed, her steady nod slowing as she finished processing the drunken ramble. "Wait… what?"

Karen groaned. "Nevermind just—You got some food in your system now, right?" She pushed the bottle towards Claire. "Ready for a spin?"

"Straight vodka? No chaser?" Claire tried to playfully brush her off, "You're an animal, no way."

She had a point. Straight vodka sounded fucking disgusting. But as whatever ghost of a buzz I'd acquired began to fade, it tempted something deep in me—something that needed to be forced back down. I needed to focus, even if it took every ounce of control to look back at my plate.

"Fine, what do you want?" Karen continued, not taking no for an answer like her life depended on it. "I'll go get it for you."

"I told you, I'm good," Claire said with a forced laugh as she motioned to the remaining half of her plate. "Plus, still eating."

"Oh." Karen slumped back into her chair. "Okay, still being lame, I see. Whatever." She snatched the bottle from the table and took a messy shot that made me want to puke for her.

Something about that hit a nerve with Claire. I don't know why she cared so much about what Karen thought, but she was too eager to defend herself. "I'm not being lame! I'm just—I have a lot—"

"What else do you have to do here, Claire?" Karen groaned, apparently exasperated that nobody else felt like taking shots out of the bush vodka. "You did your part, the whole shebang. You can relax now, let loose." She set the bottle back on the table and steadied herself to get up. "What do you want me to get you?"

"Karen, no," Claire enunciated as Karen started to push up from her chair. "Like I said however many times, I don't feel like it today."

"Yeah." Karen dropped back into her chair. "You haven't felt like it in… who knows how long."

Claire just took a sip of water, intent on doing her best to avoid touching the topic further.

"I don't get it," Karen rambled anyway, reaching for the bottle. "Did I do something? Like, are you mad at me?"

"No! Karen, stop," Claire pleaded, finally letting the nerves show in her voice. "We can talk about this later."

Ann shot me a look, but I was too frozen to send a message back.

"Why are you being so secretive? This is what I'm talking about!" There was a hushed tone to Karen's voice, but she was still yelling… and I'm sure ears were starting to perk up from nearby tables.

Rick put a hand on Karen's shoulder, but she shrugged it off as if it hadn't come from her boyfriend. "Kare—"

"No, like, what the fuck, Claire! I don't get it. I never see you anymore. And like, you're always with him now," Karen spat the words as she sent me an equally lethal look. "Are you guys, like, secretly dating or something? Or like… at least fucking—"

"Karen!" Ann scolded from beside her.

"What? No!" Claire cried in defense at the same time.

"You never want to hang out with me anymore, never want to do anything anymore—as if a single drink is going to kill you." An incredulous laugh interrupted Karen's interrogation. "Come on. Like—what is it, are you pregnant or something?"

And just like that, the air between us froze. All that remained was the weight of the words Karen strung into a seemingly silly accusation. In a perfect world, everyone around the table would have laughed off such a stupid joke and continued the night like it was nothing.

But this wasn't that world. Forks halted in place, hands clenched around unmoving water glasses, and pairs of wide eyes flickered between Claire and Karen.

Karen's teasing smile began to fade. First, it softened, and the surprise went to her wide green eyes, unmoving from Claire.

"No," she whispered in disbelief. "Are…?"

Claire swallowed before her unsteady voice carried across the table, "Karen—"

"You… you are, aren't you?" I could hear the shift from questioning to accusatory in the same sentence. Claire's silent panic only had Karen demanding again, "Tell me you aren't."

Karen sharply inhaled at Claire's lack of response, then she did double takes up and down the length of the table. Cliff and Ann seemed so caught off guard by Karen's comment that they did a poor job of masking their awareness. But Rick's reaction, or rather, lack thereof, stood out. He didn't appear nearly as shocked as I'd expected. And Karen shared that sentiment.

Claire's shaky voice finally filled the space between us all. "Karen, I said we can talk la—"

"None of you look surprised." Karen wasn't looking at Claire anymore. Brown hair flashed from side to side as her head whipped around the table. "Why don't any of you look surprised?" she demanded before her wild eyes settled on a… surprisingly rigid Rick.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and cleared his throat before trying again. "Karen, I had no—"

"Did you all know? Did you?" her demands cut Rick off. Red-rimmed eyes, beyond any level of anger I'd ever seen from Karen, finally settled directly on Claire. "I'm the only one who didn't?"

"No—no, no, no," Claire sputtered, wide-eyed and flailing. Silverware clanged as she sprung up from her spot, resting her hands on the table as she tried to lean towards Karen. "Can we just—"

"NO!" Karen immediately recoiled, launching herself out of her chair and onto her feet. She huffed as she steadied herself on the table. And then I felt her zero in on me, staring like I was the most revolting piece of shit in the world. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

I couldn't explain why that venomous combination left me so exposed, but I hated it. My face was in flames, voice caught in my throat, leaving my brain a stupid spiraling mess.

"Please," Claire tried one last time, eyes glistening in the early evening light.

Chair legs scraped against the cobblestones as Karen shoved her seat back into the table. "I'm outta here." She snatched the vodka before mocking one last cheers to us all. "Happy fucking harvest, assholes."

"Karen—wait," Rick called breathlessly, turning in his chair to reach out a hand too late to stop her from leaving.

Rick and Ann locked eyes across Karen's empty seat for only a few seconds before some silent agreement had been formed between them. One that sent Rick slumping back into his chair and Ann sighing as she launched out of hers.

Every head from the surrounding tables moved from Ann chasing after a storming Karen to Claire standing at her seat. Their curious stares evolved into quiet chatter and flickering glances before the conversations around us picked up enough to provide some semblance of normal.

Nothing was normal, though. I could feel it, the heavy shift towards dread surrounding us. But the stillness beside me demanded everything.

Claire looked like she hadn't moved an inch since the last word to Karen left her lips. If I hadn't been searching her face so intently, I wouldn't have noticed the slightest twitches around her empty stare. Like that mask was seconds away from shattering completely.

Somehow, I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault—that somehow this was my problem to fix. I needed to do something. Because I'd seen enough to know that Claire wasn't okay, and I couldn't just sit around and wait for this one to pass.

"Hey." My gentle hand on hers was an unwelcome surprise.

Claire swiftly yanked her hand away from mine and pushed her chair in. "I need to go," she announced to nobody before storming south out of the square.

Fuck her half-eaten plate of food or the crates we'd hauled up here. She left without her things, let alone looking back at any of the heads turning to watch her.

"Quite the dramatics tonight, don't you think?" Anna muttered from the table behind ours.

Just the sound of her voice, the sounds of agreement from her companions, made my blood boil. Even Sasha's comments about her own daughter, somebody I didn't particularly care for, were enough to make me want to turn around and tell them how I really felt. I didn't have the words, but I could feel it building in my chest.

A loud crash and shattering glass pulled every head in the vicinity towards that same table. I glanced over in time to catch Anna scolding Mary's clumsiness as she scooted off the seat to collect the shards off the ground. The timing seemed impeccable, especially considering that Mary was one of the most careful and deliberate people I knew. But I couldn't spare it longer than a passing thought—I needed to take advantage of the distraction.

My next moves were a blur. I was acting on instinct when I launched out of my chair and followed the same path Claire had torn down minutes earlier.

Music and voices faded into muffled darkness as I turned the corner west out of that hellhole. Then I saw her, just a shrunken, cowering figure lit by a street lamp at the end of the road. One hand gripped a picket fence post outside the smithy as her shoulders hunched over the grass, a long curtain of blonde hair covering her face.

I was there in an instant, letting adrenaline take the reins as I crouched beside her.

"Claire—"

"I'm sorry," she whispered before a shuddering breath.

"Stop." I wasn't sure why I'd said it; I already knew what was coming. "Don't apologize."

Claire slowly lifted her head and wiped her sleeve across her mouth, still not looking at me. "I threw up everything I ate."

"What can I do?" I asked, trying to avoid looking into the roots of the bushes in front of us.

Claire turned to look at me with tears trailing down her cheeks, eyes so red that they seemed an entirely new shade of blue. "I want to go home." And that single sad look shattered me into a million pieces.

"Okay," I said after a swallow, trying to pull it all together for her. "Then let's go."

"I don't know… I don't know if I can stand yet," Claire mumbled as I moved to my feet.

"I'll carry you." I had to stop when I realized what had come out of my mouth. "If that's okay."

She just nodded. And that was the end of it. No fight, no backtalk, nothing. Claire took my hand as I carefully guided her to her feet, shifting her weight into me as she got upright. Neither of us said a word when my hand slipped under her legs and lifted her up. She delicately clasped her hands behind my neck as I settled her in my arms. When her head rested on my chest, I took a deep breath and headed down the path.

We maintained the silence the entire way, but Claire seemed to allow herself to sink further into me with each step. It felt wrong to love how close she was to me in a time like this. But that didn't stop me. It never did.

Although I didn't love knowing that Claire's front door was unlocked, I was thankful for one less complication in getting her home. After delivering her to the bathroom as she'd so softly requested, I headed into the kitchen to fill her water bottle. Truthfully I wanted to make sure she was doing okay before I left and needed something to occupy the time. It was just a coincidence that I happened to spot the blue canteen sitting on the kitchen table.

Five minutes passed before I let my nerves bully me into checking on her. Water bottle in hand, I knocked twice.

"You okay?" I tried.

"You can come in," I heard from the other side of the door. "I can't hear you."

I opened the door to a deja vu of the morning: Claire wedged in the bathroom corner across from the toilet. But this time, she lifted her head when I crossed the tiles to her.

"Here." I held out the water, which she accepted with a soft smile.

"Uh, wow. Thanks." She took a long drink and sighed. "Sorry, I just kinda left you out there. I thought you'd go home."

"Oh." I just wanted to make sure she was okay before I left. But suddenly, the realization that I was probably way overstepping boundaries hit me. "Shit. I can? I didn't—"

"No! No. That's not what I meant," Claire interrupted me. "Thank you for being here. And thank you for the water."

"Yeah, no problem." I felt so awkward standing over her. It just made her look even smaller than usual. "Anything else I can do?"

Claire thought about it longer than I had expected. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, a last-minute decision had her shaking her head as if abandoning it altogether.

With the worst attempt at a polite smile plastered on her face, Claire finally glanced up at me and answered, "No, it's—You've already done… way more than you should have to. You should go back to the festival and enjoy yourself."

"Said I'd deal with this with you… I don't mind." I'd made that promise, and as nerve-wracking as it was, I needed to stick to it if I wanted to prove I could be trusted.

"It's… not like that." She seemed to chew on the words before softly admitting, "It's… a selfish thing."

"That's okay." I took a deep breath, trying to offset what that did to my pulse. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I sure as hell was going to find out.

Every painful second of waiting was worth it when Claire slowly asked, "Could… you, y'know… maybe stay for a little? I… I don't want to be alone right now."

"Uh, yeah. Of course." It was hard to hide how those words hit me in the chest. I swallowed and slid down the wall into a seat next to her. "Thought you were gonna ask me for something hard."

"Yeah… well, you seem to be the only one that thinks spending time with me isn't," Claire sighed and pointed a hand to the toilet. "Especially on a bathroom floor."

That one was a shot to the heart. Fuck, did I know that feeling. "That's not true."

But all I got was a soft, unconvinced hum in response.

"Do you think I'm a bad friend?" she seemed to ask out of the blue.

"No." But fuck, was I biased. "I mean, no one's perfect, but… that doesn't mean you're a bad friend." As much as we butted heads, Claire was one of the only people I could talk to. Lately, she'd really only been a great friend to me.

"I… I worry about it a lot. Being a good friend." Claire swallowed before wrapping her arms tighter around her knees. "I can never keep them, and I've been trying so hard here and… now this…."

"Probably coulda handled shit differently… but it's our business." I shrugged. "Karen's just self-absorbed and thrives off the drama like her mom."

"That's not true!" Claire defended with tears in her eyes. "She's hurt because she feels like I left her out. And I need to make it right with her."

Despite how I felt about Karen—especially after tonight—I knew I needed to hold my tongue on it. "If that's what you really wanna do…."

"It is," she insisted before wiping her eyes.

"I'd at least wait till she cools off." Which was probably the only useful piece of advice I had on the subject, and it was something I'd heard from Ann.

"Yeah…" Claire placed her head in her hands. "I just don't know what I'm going to say to her after all this."

"The truth?" I wanted to kick myself. That wasn't helpful in the slightest. "I, uh, I can be there to help if you want."

That made her sit up against the wall. "I… uh, I think I should talk to her myself. At least at first."

"Whatever you think is best." I took my hat off to push back my hair. "I'm sure she'll interrogate me eventually,"

Claire huffed a laugh. But it was only a few beats before she turned to me with a frown. "Do you think Rick actually knows?"

"I don't know how he would." I'd spaced the thought until now. The way Rick reacted, or rather, didn't, to Karen's realization that Claire was pregnant. But it didn't make sense…

"You don't think Popuri said anything?" Claire interrupted the thought.

"She's been avoiding him since Kai left, so I doubt it." I was relieved when Claire accepted it with a nod.

"Yeah, but…." She threw her hands towards the ceiling. "Then how would he know?"

"Maybe he doesn't." I didn't believe it as I said it, but that didn't mean it was a possibility. "He could have been so shocked he didn't know how to react."

"You saw his face, Gray. You can't tell me that reaction didn't seem… bland for him." She raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that how you imagined he'd react to finding out? Because it's not what I pictured."

I couldn't argue with any of that. "Has Rick said shit to you about it?"

"No. I mean, he's not checking in any less than he was before." Claire brought her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. "I don't know. This all makes my head hurt."

"Me too," I sighed.

"Do you think other people heard?"

"I dunno." But I'd been wondering the same thing. "People were sure as hell talkin' about you two, though."

"I hate this." She groaned into her hands. "I don't want to be known for… whatever this is. I came here to start over, but… same shit all over again."

"Forget about everyone else." I wasn't sure what other reassurance I had to provide, but that didn't stop me from trying anyway. "They only talk 'cuz they don't have better shit to do."

Claire didn't say anything to that. Instead, she rested her head back on the wall, exhaling the weight of the entire day's worth of bullshit into the room. I couldn't help doing the same thing.

I wasn't sure how long we'd been sitting in silence when I heard her head shift in my direction.

Teary blue eyes stared up at me above a defeated smile. "I… Gray, I don't know where to go from here."

The words caught in my throat the first time I tried to speak. "Me neither, but…." I cleared my throat. "We'll just have to fuckin' figure it out as we go along."

"Together?" The single word was so soft I couldn't decide if it was a question or not.

"Yeah." I couldn't fight the sharp inhale as she leaned her head against my arm. Nothing else mattered at that moment—just us—and I needed to show her. Fighting the world's sweatiest palm, I slid my arm around Claire's shoulder and pulled her closer. "Together."