I take a step back.
"Why are you really here, Claire? And don't tell me it's because of some old letters."
Something flickers across her face. Pain, maybe. Or fear. Whatever it is, she hides it quickly behind that stubborn chin lift that's so fucking Marcus it makes my teeth ache.
"I needed to get away," she admits. "And you were the only person I could think of who might understand."
"Understand what?"
She hesitates. Looks away for the first time since she walked into my shop.
"What it feels like to have your whole world fall apart."
The words hang there, raw and honest, and I know I should ask more. Should find out what happened, what drove her across the country to a broken man she hasn't seen in a decade.
Instead, I'm looking at the curve of her neck. The fullness of her lips. The way her chest rises and falls with each breath.
And I hate myself for it.
Because she came here looking for safety. For the man who held her hand at her father's funeral.
Not the man who's standing here wondering what her skin tastes like.
"You can stay at the Mountain Haven Inn," I hear myself say. "I'll call ahead, let them know you're coming."
Her face falls, just slightly. "Max."
"It's not up for discussion." I move past her, careful not to let our bodies touch. "I'll get you settled tonight. Tomorrow we can talk about why you're really here."
I expect her to argue. Marcus would have argued.
But she just nods, picks up her duffel bag, and follows me out of the apartment without another word.
And the whole way to the inn, I feel her eyes on me like a brand.
CHAPTER TWO
CLAIRE
The Mountain Haven Inn smells like pine and wood smoke, and the woman behind the front desk looks at me like she knows every secret I've ever kept.
"You must be Claire." She smiles warmly, sliding a key across the worn wooden counter. "Max called ahead. Room twelve. Best view of the mountains."
I take the key, hyper aware of Max standing three feet behind me. He hasn't said a word since we left his apartment. Just walked beside me through the small town, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tight like he was grinding his teeth to dust.
This isn't the reunion I imagined during the thirty hour drive from Virginia.
"Thank you," I tell the woman. Carol, according to her name tag. "I appreciate you fitting me in last minute."
"Honey, we always have room." Her eyes flick to Max, then back to me with obvious curiosity. "You staying long?"
"I'm not sure yet."
Max shifts behind me. I can feel his impatience like heat from a furnace.
"Let me know if you need anything," Carol says. "Breakfast is seven to ten. Coffee's always on."
I nod my thanks and turn toward the stairs, but Max is already moving past me.
