"Tom, I can't—"
"Yes, you can. And you will." I set down my fork. "Derek knows you're in Blackwater Falls now. But after tonight, he also knows what happens if he comes back. My friends made sure of that. Still, the motel isn't safe. He could send people. Could try something stupid. But here?" I gesture around us. "Here, I can protect you. And the whole town knows the situation now. Everyone's watching."
"But your house—"
"Is big enough for three people. And honestly?" I pause, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a creep. "It's been empty too long. Having you both here... it feels right."
She stares at me, and I can see her trying to understand. Trying to figure out my angle, what I want, why I'm doing this.
I don't have a good answer. Just that seeing her and Jackson safe, in my home, eating food she made, feels like the most important thing I've ever done.
"Okay," she whispers finally. "Okay. We'll stay. At least until I figure out what's next."
"Thank you."
She laughs, the sound watery. "I should be thanking you. You just... you saved us. You saved our lives."
"Anyone would have done the same."
"No," she says firmly. "They wouldn't. But you did. And I'll never forget that."
We finish dinner while Jackson falls asleep on the couch, Rex clutched in his small hands. Claire carries him to the bedroom, tucking him in with a mother’s tenderness.
And when she comes back out, settling into the chair across from me with a cup of tea, I realize something that should terrify me but doesn't.
I don't want them to leave.
Not in a few days. Not in a few weeks. Maybe not ever.
I'm forty-three years old, and I've just met a woman and her son who've somehow become the most important people in my world.
God help me. What am I getting myself into?
Chapter 8 - Claire
I don't know how to thank him.
The words feel inadequate, *thank you* for saving my life, for protecting my son, for making Derek disappear like he was nothing more than a bad dream. How do you express gratitude for something that monumental?
Jackson is asleep in the bedroom, his breathing deep and even, finally calm after the terror of tonight. And I'm here in the living room with Tom, this man who keeps doing impossible things, who keeps showing up exactly when I need him.
We're sitting in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. He's in the armchair, I'm on the couch, both of us holding cups of tea that have gone lukewarm. The TV is off. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of settling wood.
I should say something. Anything. But when I turn to look at him, the words die in my throat.
Is Derek really gone? Tom said his friends took him, that they'd make sure he understood not to come back. But I've spent five years learning that Derek doesn't give up, doesn't let go, doesn't accept defeat. What if this isn't enough? What if he comes back with more men, more violence, more—
"Claire?"
Tom's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He's watching me with those steady blue eyes, concern written across his face.
"How are you feeling right now?"
I consider lying. Saying I'm fine, everything's fine, I'm totally handling this. But I'm so tired of lying. So tired of pretending.
"Better," I say honestly. "A lot less scared than I was an hour ago. But there's..." I pause, trying to find the right words. "There'sa lot of healing to do. A lot of damage that won't go away just because Derek's gone."
Tom nods like he understands. "You'll get there. It won't be easy, and it won't be quick. But you'll get there." He leans forward slightly. "And you won't be doing it alone. You have support now. Everyone in Blackwater Falls will probably know about this in a few days. Small town, word travels fast. But that means they'll all be watching out for you. Defending you. Making sure no one hurts you again."
