Chapter 149

Chapter 149
Clara’s POV

Morning light crept in through the kitchen windows in soft, undecided bands, catching on the rim of Ayleen’s mug and the scattered crumbs on the counter. It should have felt peaceful. Domestic. The kind of morning I used to imagine during the years when waking up alone had become routine.

Instead, there was tension tucked into every quiet movement.

Ayleen leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me like she was waiting for me to change my mind if she stared hard enough. I stirred my coffee even though I didn’t need to, mostly to give my hands something to do.

“You could wait,” she said again, voice calm but tight around the edges. “Just until the weekend. I’ll come with you.”

I didn’t look up. “I don’t need backup.”

“That’s not what I said.”

I finally met her eyes. She looked tired in a way sleep didn’t fix, dark circles faint but present, her jaw set in that stubborn line I knew too well. It softened something in me.

“I know,” I said quietly. “And I appreciate it. Really. But I need to do this now.”

She shook her head, frustration flashing across her face. “Nothing will fall apart if you wait two days.”

“That’s not why,” I replied.

She pushed off the counter and stepped closer. “Then why, Clara?”

Because if I don’t go now, I might lose the nerve. Because every hour that passes gives him more room to maneuver. Because I’ve spent five years letting other people decide the timing of my life.

But I didn’t say any of that.

“My mom’s already in Greenport,” I said instead. “I’ll be fine. I am not alone.”

Ayleen’s mouth tightened. “That’s not the point.”

“It is to me.”

Silence settled between us, heavy but not hostile. She turned away, reaching for her mug, then set it back down untouched. That hurt more than if she’d argued.

“You hate this,” I said gently.

She let out a short breath. “I hate that I can’t protect you from everything.”

I stepped closer before I could overthink it, resting my hands lightly on her arms. She was warm, solid, real. “You already do. Just by being here.”

Her eyes flicked down to my hands, then back up. “That’s not enough when someone is actively trying to hurt you.”

I smiled faintly. “You’re dating a lawyer. Occupational hazard.”

She huffed despite herself. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” I said. “So am I.”

She searched my face like she was looking for cracks, for doubt. I let her look. There wasn’t any. Not about this.

Finally, she looked away first.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

I tilted my head. “You love that about me.”

She glanced back, unimpressed. “Debatable.”

I smiled anyway and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Come on. Eat something. You’ll brood less with food in you.”

She caught my wrist before I could pull away. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

I softened. “I’ll be smart. I won’t provoke him. I won’t stay longer than I need to.”

“And you’ll call me.”

“Yes.”

“Not text.”

“Yes.”

She hesitated. “And if it gets weird—”

“I leave,” I finished. “Immediately.”

Her grip loosened, but she didn’t let go entirely. “I don’t like not being there.”

I brushed my thumb over her knuckles. “I don’t like it either. But this is something I have to face on my own.”

She studied me for a long moment, then nodded once, sharp and resigned. “Fine.”

The word didn’t sound fine at all.

To keep her from spiraling further, I shifted tactics. “You know,” I said lightly, “most people would kill to have a partner this worried about them.”

She shot me a look. “Don’t.”

I grinned. “I mean it. Very endearing. Ten out of ten. Would recommend.”

She rolled her eyes, but the tension eased just a fraction. “You’re deflecting.”

“Absolutely,” I said cheerfully. “It’s one of my strengths.”

She shook her head, then finally picked up her mug. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

“Already have,” I said. “You just didn’t notice because you were busy falling in love.”

That did it. She snorted, trying to hide it behind a sip of coffee. When she lowered the mug, there was color back in her face.

“You’re insufferable in the mornings,” she said.

“And yet,” I replied, reaching for my coat, “you made me breakfast.”

She glanced at the table. “You mean the toast?”

“It was emotionally supportive toast.”

She laughed then, properly this time, and the sound loosened something tight in my chest.

I stepped toward the door, then paused, turning back to her. She was watching me again, but now there was something else there too. Trust. Reluctant, anxious trust—but trust nonetheless.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” I said.

She crossed the room in two strides and pulled me into her arms, holding me tightly, like she was memorizing the shape of me. I wrapped my arms around her without hesitation.

“Don’t make me regret letting you go alone,” she murmured into my hair.

I kissed her temple. “You won’t.”

As I pulled away and reached for the door, she called after me, “Clara.”

I turned.

“Bring me back something from Greenport,” she said, trying to sound casual.

I smiled, heart full despite the weight of what awaited me. “Deal.”

And then I left, carrying her concern with me like both a shield and a promise.

The city thinned out slowly as I drove, steel and glass giving way to trees and open road. Greenport always did that to me. It eased you out of one life and into another without asking permission.

I kept both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, but my mind refused to stay where it belonged. Ayleen’s face kept slipping in between mile markers, the way her mouth had tightened when she tried not to argue, the way she’d held me like she was afraid distance itself might take me from her. I turned the radio off when I realized I hadn’t heard a single song.

You’re reading too much into it, she’d said last night.

Maybe I was. Or maybe instinct had finally learned to speak louder than reason.

The closer I got, the heavier my chest felt. Greenport wasn’t just a place. It was where everything had cracked open. Where I’d learned how quickly safety could turn into something fragile. Where silence had settled in my bones and stayed there for years.

I slowed as I turned onto my mother’s street, familiar houses lining the road like quiet witnesses. The hedges were trimmed the same way they’d always been. Someone was watering their lawn two houses down. Normal life, continuing, indifferent to everything that had ever fallen apart here.

Her house came into view, pale siding, dark shutters, the porch light still crooked from the last storm. My foot hovered over the brake longer than necessary before I finally pulled into the driveway.

I sat there for a moment, engine running, fingers resting against the steering wheel. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until my shoulders started to ache. I forced myself to breathe, slow and deliberate.

Then I got out of my car and knocked on the door.