28 | Showin up
CLEMENTINE
My mouth goes dry, my eyes wide. “You… did you tell him to stay away from me?”
“No!” Dad straightens, voice firm but desperate. “No, honey—I just told him about your mother and me. Told him I knew you’d choose him over yourself if he asked you to stay.”
There’s this sinking feeling inside me, like the ground’s slipping out from under me. The wine in my glass sloshes as my hand trembles. I can’t tell if I’m angry or heartbroken—probably both. It takes a second before I can even form words.
“Oh my god.”
Dad flinches. “Honey, I—”
I shake my head, a brittle, cynical laugh escaping me.
“This is a literal Hallmark movie. I cannot believe this is my actual life. What’s next, huh? Did he write to me? Did you save all the envelopes in a little box upstairs? Should I go rummage through your attic and uncover years’ worth of aching love letters—paper yellowed and curling at the edges?”
Dad bites his lip. “There’s no letters, love.”
I didn’t expect that to hit so hard. “Oh.”
The word lands like a punch, my second round of heartbreak almost tangible in the air between us. He reaches for the bottle, pours me another glass of wine with hands that are just as unsteady as mine, and slides it toward me across the table.
“Clementine,” he says softly, voice thick, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never meddled with your life. I swear I only did it because I thought I was protecting you. From the same kind of small, suffocating life I couldn’t breathe in anymore.”
The clock ticks loud in the background. The scent of pecan pie still hangs in the air, warm and sweet, too festive for the way my world’s imploding. In the kitchen, Savannah laughs at something Marlene says—the sound bright and ordinary. The world keeps spinning while mine grinds to a halt.
I don’t touch the wine. I just stare at it, watching the reflection of the kitchen lights ripple across the surface, and think through every single detail I might’ve missed—these last few weeks, and maybe the last few years, too.
All the choices I’ve made thinking they were my own, when maybe they weren’t at all
“I need some air.” My chair scrapes back as I stand, legs a little shaky.
Dad’s hand closes around my wrist. “Clementine—”
“Daddy, I love you,” I say, firm, “but if you don’t let go of me right now, I will say things I can’t take back.”
He lets go immediately. His jaw clenches, but his voice is steady. “I understand.”
I walk out stiffly, passing the kitchen on my way to the door. Savannah catches a glimpse of me and pops her head around the corner. “How did it—”
“Nope.” The word comes out sharp, too loud, and I push out into the night before she can follow.
The air outside is cooler than I expect, heavy with the smell of rain on asphalt and the hum of faraway traffic. I march down the street until I’m out of earshot—but close enough not to get mugged—and dig my phone out of my pocket.
My hands shake as I find Colt’s number. I hit call, and try to steady my breathing as it rings. Once. Twice.
Then—
“Hey, baby.”
His drawl slides through the speaker, rough and gentle all at once, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. I could almost cry at the sound of it.
I clear my throat. “Did you talk to my dad before I left town?”
The line goes quiet for a second. I can almost hear him exhale. “Ah. He told you, then?”
“Colton—” My voice cracks on his name.
“I think we need to have this conversation face-to-face, baby.” His words are low now, tender. It’s like he’s trying his hardest not to push me further toward my breaking point.
I brace my hand against a tree and lean forward, trying to hold myself together. “You had me face-to-face, Colton. Weeks’ worth of it.” I sound wrecked, crying in the street like some dramatic heroine caught between the city and the countryside.
Perfect. The full Hallmark experience.
“Clementine, darlin’,” he murmurs, pained. “Can we talk about this?”
I take a breath that shakes all the way through me. “Yeah. But not now. I just—” My throat tightens. “I don’t even know why I called. It’s late. I should head back inside.”
I hang up before he can answer, because if I hear his voice one more second, I’ll shatter.
The streetlight hums above me, a weak halo against the dark. My reflection stares back at me in the window of a parked car—eyes red, face blotchy. I almost laugh.
I look ridiculous, still dressed in my blouse and pencil skirt, wobbling on my heels. It feels like I’m playing dress up.
I take a long, shaky breath before dragging myself back toward the house.
I find Savannah sitting on the front steps, scrolling her phone. She looks up as I approach. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Oh no—you’re crying. Do I need to punch someone?”
That earns the smallest, most pathetic laugh from me. “No punching necessary. I just… need to get home.”
We pull off the most painfully awkward round of goodbyes and ‘thanks for dinner’ humanity’s ever witnessed, then make our escape.
Savannah doesn’t ask questions on the way back, and I appreciate it more than I let on. The city lights flicker across the windshield, washing the car interior in shades of neon and gold. By the time the Uber drops us off, my eyes are dry but my chest feels hollow.
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I don’t remember walking up the stairs. Don’t even remember getting ready for bed, until Savannah gently takes my toothbrush from me after I’ve been scrubbing for way too long.
She tucks me into bed and curls up beside me like she used to do when we were kids, thumb brushing my shoulder in quiet comfort until I finally close my eyes.
It’s the sound of knocking that pulls me back, hours later.
Savannah stirs beside me. “Is that Devin?”
“Probably.” My voice comes out rough, sleep-thick.
A second later, there’s another knock. Then Devin’s voice—muffled through the door. “Clem? Uh… you might wanna… get up.”
Savannah and I exchange a look. I drag myself out of bed, half-awake. When I open the door, Devin’s standing there in a hoodie and pajama pants, looking like they just saw a ghost.
They point toward the living room, whisper-yelling, “Oh my god?!”
“What?!”
They lean in, eyes wide. “You could’ve at least warned me! I would’ve put on something cute!”
I furrow my brows, but then I hear it.
The drawl that sends shivers down my spine, low and careful.
“Hey, Tiny.”
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OUR MAN IS HERE!! Do we think he'll save the day or make everything worse? ????