Grooming. The word echoes in my head. Calculated. Waiting for her to turn eighteen.
Is that how it looks from the outside? Is that what people think when they see us together?
Is that what Claire will think when the infatuation wears off and she realizes what she's done?
The bell jingles again. This time it is Claire, arms full of grocery bags, smile bright enough to light up the whole shop.
"I got everything we need for lasagna. Maggie gave me her secret recipe, but you have to promise not to tell anyone because apparently she's been guarding it for thirty years and..." She trails off, her smile fading. "Max? What's wrong?"
I can't look at her. Can't see Marcus's eyes staring back at me while Gerald's words poison everything we've built.
"Your stepfather was here."
The bags hit the floor. Vegetables roll across the concrete.
"Gerald is here? In Grizzly Ridge?"
"Staying at the inn with your mother."
"No." She shakes her head like she can deny it into nonexistence. "No, they can't be here. How did they find me?"
"I don't know." I finally force myself to look at her. She's pale, trembling, fear written across every feature. "He wants you to go home, Claire."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Maybe you should."
The words taste like ash in my mouth. But I can't stop them. Can't stop the doubt that's been building since Gerald walked through my door.
Claire stares at me. "What?"
"Maybe he's right. Maybe this was a mistake."
"Max." She crosses to me, reaches for my hands. I step back before she can touch me. "Max, what did he say to you?"
"Nothing I haven't thought myself." I grab a rag from my workbench, wipe my hands just to have something to do. "He called me a groomer. Said I was calculated. That I've been waiting for you to grow up so I could..."
I can't finish the sentence.
"That's insane." Her voice shakes with anger. "He's manipulating you. That's what he does. He finds your weaknesses and exploits them."
"Is he wrong, though?" I force myself to meet her eyes. "I've known you since you were a baby, Claire. I watched you grow up. I sent money for years, kept tabs on your life. And then you show up here and within days we're in bed together. How does that look to anyone on the outside?"
"I don't care how it looks."
"You should." My voice comes out harsher than I intend. "You should care what people think about you. About us."
"People like Gerald? He doesn't get to have an opinion about my life. Not after everything he's done."
"And your mother? She's here too. She came all this way to find you."
Something flickers across Claire's face. Pain. Longing. The complicated tangle of loving someone who constantly disappoints you.
"My mother hasn't stood up for me in ten years. She let Gerald control everything. My education, my relationships, my future. She watched Derek propose to me with a ring Gerald helped pick out, and she didn't say a word when I told her I wasn't sure I loved him."
"She's still your mother."
"And you're still the man I crossed the country to find." She steps closer, and this time I don't back away. "Max, I didn't come here because of childhood memories or some fantasy about who you used to be. I came here because you were the only person who ever made me feel safe. The only person who didn't try to fix me or change me or turn me into something I'm not."
