Chapter 13 Clara #2
I didn’t want that to be the first nugget I gave her. A part of me didn’t want her picturing him naked either. I also didn’t want Wes to become a family group project where everyone passed notes about his moods and watched him like he was a storm system on the radar.
He was difficult. He was hurting. He was . . . Wes. Not a bulletin board.
I decided mild deflection was the best course of action until I could get my bearings.
Living my best life. Call you later?
Kit
You better. I’m going to the knitting store to get supplies to make a knitted eggplant.
An eggplant?
It’s cute and phallic and will be perfect for my bookshelf.
Maybe grab what I need to make a scarf or something. Something EASY.
BORING.
Thanks. Love you.
I laughed at my phone and shook my head.
My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t consumed anything besides coffee all morning.
I pressed a hand to my empty belly and groaned.
Going downstairs to get a snack meant coming face-to-face with my surly roommate.
I stretched my neck and looked out the window.
The snow had finally stopped, and everything looked cold and still. Peaceful.
I needed to get out of this room.
I shoved my laptop closed, grabbed my keys off the dresser, and tugged on jeans with the kind of urgency that suggested I was fleeing an active crime scene. I added a sweater, boots, and a scarf, and in the mirror I looked like a woman who had her life together.
I almost believed it.
With a smile plastered on my face, I looped my laptop bag over my shoulder and headed for the front door.
Downstairs, Wes was on the couch, his shoulders hunched like he was holding himself in place.
The TV was on, but he wasn’t watching it.
His gaze was fixed somewhere ahead, unfocused, jaw tight, a mug cooling on the coffee table.
He looked up when he felt me there. For a second neither of us said anything.
I held my chin high without so much as a glance toward Wes. At the door, I paused with my hand on the knob.
I could leave without saying anything. Wes wouldn’t care. He probably preferred it.
I’d been in his space for less than a week, and already I could feel how hard he clung to whatever control he still had left.
But then I thought about Hayes’s face at the table.
The way he genuinely worried about his best friend.
He’d said missing appointments and refusing care like he was listing symptoms.
I had agreed to help, no matter how awkward my intrusion had made things.
I thought about the thump. The silence. The way my heart had lurched into my throat because for a split second I had been sure something was wrong.
Wes wasn’t broken, he was simply a man who’d built his entire life around being capable, and now even the shower had turned into an obstacle course.
I could feel the house breathing around me, waiting to see what I’d do. The air in the house was too warm, too thick.
I swallowed, tried to sound normal, tried not to sound like a girl asking a boy for permission to leave the house.
“I’m going to head to the farm,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “I’m meeting Elodie.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me like he didn’t know why that mattered. Like he didn’t know what to do with information that wasn’t a problem to solve.
My fingers tightened around my keys. “Call if you need anything.”
The words hung there, but so did his silence.
I braced myself for a grunt. Maybe an eye roll or a dismissive flick of his hand. Something that told me I was overstepping again.
Instead, Wes just stared at me, his expression unreadable, like the idea of calling someone—anyone—was a language he’d forgotten.
Then his throat worked, and he gave me a firm nod.
A nod that was almost . . . grateful. Like he hadn’t expected me to offer that. Maybe Wes didn’t know what to do with help that didn’t come wrapped in pity.
My chest tightened.
I didn’t let myself linger long enough to name it. I turned on my heel and bolted, because I was braver in motion than I was standing still.
Outside, the cold air slapped my cheeks back into my body. I inhaled until my lungs burned, started the car, and drove toward Star Harbor Family Farm as snow-covered dunes flew past the car window.
The farther I got from Wes’s house, the easier it was to breathe.
The closer I got to the farm, the more I could feel myself coming back online.
Star Harbor Family Farm looked like a postcard in winter.
In the distance, the big blue barn wore a soft cap of snow.
The peaked roofline stood out against the pale sky, and smoke drifted from somewhere behind it—someone burning something, someone warm inside while the world stayed cold.
Twinkle lights were strung along the front, and even in daylight they glowed faintly, like stubborn little stars.
When I stepped inside the barn, warmth wrapped around me. The air smelled like fresh-cut wood and coffee and the faint tang of paint. It was the comforting chaos of a place in progress.
Elodie was near the restaurant side of the barn with her sleeves pushed up and hair pulled back. Her cheeks were pink from work. She had a rag in her hands and a look on her face like she’d been built for this—like she’d found the exact shape of her happiness and decided to live inside it.
“Clara!” Her bright smile hit me right in the ribs. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
The question wasn’t suspicious. It was delighted.
I realized how much I’d missed that.
“I needed to get out of the house,” I admitted, and then, because I wasn’t ready to unpack anything else, I lifted my chin and added, “I have an idea. You busy?”
Elodie’s eyes lit. “I’m always busy.” Her eyebrows bounced. “What’s the idea?”
I laughed—real laughter, the kind that didn’t have shame clinging to its edges—and followed her deeper into the barn, where the warm light made everything look softer. Finished and unfinished living side by side. The space had beautiful bones. A dream mid-build.
“This place is unreal,” I said, meaning it. “You guys really did this.”
“We’re doing it,” she corrected, but her grin widened. “Okay. Tell me the idea.”
I pulled my phone out and flipped to the notes app where I’d already started drafting bullet points. My lips pulled in as I considered where to start. “Um . . . so I never really shared this, but I’ve been doing a bit of bridal modeling—organizing photo shoots, that kind of thing.”
Elodie’s eyes widened. “Um, are you kidding?”
Heat bloomed across my cheeks. I hadn’t shared my passion with anyone outside of Greg and the small friend group I had in the city. It only took one of his colleagues mocking me to solidify the fact that my job wasn’t something people understood.
I set my shoulders, ready to defend myself to my sister. “It’s a real job and takes significant amounts of work for what I do. It’s actually—”
“Really fucking cool!”
I stared at my sister as her grin grew wider. I blinked.
“Clara!” She bumped me in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do you keep the dresses? Have you met anyone famous? I have so many questions. Have you been in a magazine?”
The heat was back in my cheeks, and I shifted my weight. “I’ve been in lots of magazines, actually.”
Elodie squealed. “Shut. Up.”
My gaze dropped to my boots as I laughed. “So that’s why I popped over today. I want to do a winter bridal shoot.”
Elodie’s face shifted from curiosity to immediate interest. “Here?”
“Here,” I said, heart kicking. “Twinkle lights. Snowy dunes. Barn warmth. Pine trees. The inn. All of it.” I gestured around us like I could scoop the whole place up and package it. “It’s romantic. It’s cozy. It’s . . . exactly the vibe.”
Elodie didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
The word hit me so fast it stole my breath.
“Wait. Really?” I blinked at her, not quite believing it was that easy. “Just . . . yes?”
Elodie laughed. “Of course. Use it. All of it. The barn, the porch, the tree line. It’s an awesome idea. It’s a family farm, you goose. I want you to feel like you belong here.”
Belong.
The word landed with a dull ache.
I looked away under the guise of clearing my throat.
“Okay,” I said, like it was nothing, like my eyes didn’t suddenly feel hot.
“Okay. Great. So—practical stuff. I’ll need a date and a time window.
I’m thinking late afternoon for light; then we’ll shift inside when it gets dark. I’m getting a photographer and—”
“El,” a voice cut in. Levi stepped out from behind a half wall, tall and lanky in that teenage way, hair falling into his eyes, carrying a box like he’d been assigned manual labor and decided to endure it with quiet sarcasm.
With her rag, Elodie gestured for him to come over. “Levi. What’s up, kiddo?”
“The knobs on the cabinets are swapped out,” he said, then turned his attention to me. His expression softened just slightly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said, smiling. It was still strange to see Elodie in a mother’s role, but it suited her perfectly. “Your timing is perfect, actually. Have you ever done any modeling?”
“What?” He looked wary, and an embarrassed chuckle escaped. “Are you serious?”
“Possibly,” I admitted.
He sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, then shrugged. “I guess I would consider it.”
Elodie snorted. “Believe it or not, that’s his enthusiastic face.”
Levi shot her a playful look before moving toward the barn door. I laughed again and let the heady excitement of a plan coming together flow through me.
Elodie turned back to me, all business now. “Okay. Date. How soon?”
“As soon as I can get a team,” I said. “Photographer, makeup, maybe someone to help with the video. I can model the bridal looks myself if I need to, but I’d rather bring in one other model so it doesn’t feel like a solo show. Levi’s a little young, so I’ll keep my eyes out.”
Elodie nodded, already tracking. “And you’ll need indoor shots, too, in case the weather turns.”
“Exactly. That’s why this is perfect,” I said, looking around the newly renovated farm-to-table restaurant. “It gives me options.”
She leaned in, lowering her voice like we were conspiring.
“If you can get some extra lifestyle shots while you’re at it—maybe Levi and his friends by the firepit, hot cocoa, the restaurant space when it’s done—I’ll buy a package.
We need content for socials and website stuff. The more professional, the better.”
Momentum slid into my chest, warm and steady.
Income. A plan. Something all mine.
Pride prickled at the back of my eyes, and I blinked it away, because I refused to cry in a barn like in a sappy movie.
“That would . . . help a lot,” I admitted.
Elodie’s gaze softened. “Then it’s done.”
Levi, still hovering nearby, shifted the box in his arms and arched a brow. “Does being in a photo shoot mean I’m getting paid?”
“No,” Elodie and I said in unison.
He scoffed instantly and headed out the door as we chuckled. I smiled and leaned in. “Of course he’ll be paid.”
I pulled my phone back out, already opening a calendar, already making lists. The world narrowed down into controllable pieces again—dates and people and deliverables.
It was a version of myself I barely recognized. A version I was falling for.