In The Between

✧･Chapter 4 Here You Are

The door is already unlocked when we step inside.

Voices spilled out into the entryway that was warm, familiar, and loud in the way this house always is. Laughter echoes from the kitchen, overlapping with the soft clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation. It should feel easy, normal.

It doesn't. I barely get one step in before I feel it. Not hear, not see.

Feel.

Like something in the room shifts, like the air changes pressure, like my body recognizes something before my mind can catch up. My fingers tighten slightly around my keys, and I exhale slowly, steadying myself before I even understand why.

And then I look up, and there she is.

Claire.

It hits harder than I expect.

Four years - four years of distance, of silence, of carefully not thinking about her - and it doesn't matter.

Not even a little. She's standing across the room like she never left, like time didn't touch her at all.

Still loud in the way she holds herself, still too confident, too effortless. Still completely her.

My chest tightens before I can stop it, she looks exactly the same.

No, that's not true. She looks older, sharper, somehow. More settled into herself, like the world hasn't managed to dull her edges, just refined them. And God-

That smile.

It's not even directed at me. She's laughing at something August said, head tipped back slightly, completely at ease. Like she belongs here, like she didn't disappear for years and leave-

I cut the thought off hard.

Don't.

I force my expression into something neutral, something practiced, something safe. My grip loosens from my keys, and I step fully inside like nothing is wrong, like my pulse isn't suddenly too fast, like my thoughts aren't scrambling to catch up with the reality standing ten feet away from me.

I knew she was coming, June had texted me.

I just didn't... I didn't think it would feel like this. Like everything I buried didn't stay buried at all. Like it's all still right there, waiting.

Claire turns then, and her eyes land on me and it's instant, immediate.

Recognition flashes across her face, followed by something else, something I refuse to name, something I don't let myself look at too closely. But it's there, I see it and I can I feel it.

And just like that, I'm right back there.

That night. Her hands, her voice, the way she said my name like it meant something.

My stomach drops.

I swallow hard and take another step forward, forcing my shoulders to stay relaxed, my breathing even. I've done this before. I know how to do this.

Ignore it.

Control it.

Move on.

Like nothing ever happened. Like I don't remember every single second of it. Like she didn't change everything.

I step further into the room, aware of him beside me, of the steady, grounding presence I've relied on for the past year. It should make this easier, it should make this feel manageable, but it doesn't.

Because Claire is still looking at me.

And even after all this time... after everything, I still feel it.

That pull. That same, dangerous pull I've spent years pretending never existed.

And then she smiles.

But I know, I still know her. I know the difference - the subtle shift, the way it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Anyone else would miss it, how anyone else would think it's real.

She starts walking toward us, slow, steady, like she has all the time in the world. Like this doesn't mean anything. Like I don't feel like my chest is caving in on itself with every step she takes closer, and then she speaks.

"Hey."

Her voice is smooth, easy - too easy - and her eyes don't leave mine. Not at first. Not until something flickers between us, something sharp and unspoken, and then she breaks it, turning slightly to look at him.

At my boyfriend, his hand is still on my back.

She extends her hand, that same small smile still sitting on her lips, like this is completely normal. Like we didn't-

"You must be the boyfriend."

My stomach twists.

"I'm Claire."

I watch as he takes her hand, completely at ease, offering her a soft, polite smile like this is just another introduction. Like she's just another person.

"Hey," he says, glancing down at me before looking back at her. "I'm Chris."

Claire nods slightly, like she's filing it away, like it doesn't matter at all.

"Oh- wait," he starts, and I can practically see it happening, the moment something clicks into place and my chest tightens before he even finishes.

"You're that Claire!"

"Am I?"

Her tone is light, amused - there's humor there, effortless and familiar - and it sends a sharp, unexpected chill down my spine.

"Mae's mentioned you," he says softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not a ton, but, yeah. I've heard a bit. It's nice to finally meet you."

I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have said her name, not even in passing, not even once.

But I did, and now she knows and I catch it - the flicker across her face. It's quick, barely there, gone almost as soon as it appears. Anyone else would miss it.

"Well," she starts, that grin slipping back into place like armor. "Here I am."

God.

Here you are.

And somehow, after everything... after all the time, all the distance, all the lies I told myself, she still feel like the one thing I was never meant to survive.

"Aunty Mae!"

Lucia's voice cuts through everything, bright and loud and saving me in a way she doesn't even realize. I barely have time to react before she's running into me, her small arms wrapping tightly around my legs as she beams up at me like I'm the only person in the room.

Relief hits me fast and hard, loosening something tight in my chest. I smile despite myself, letting my hand slide gently over her hair as I look down at her.

"Hey you, I heard you went to tee-ball today, did you do good?" I ask, focusing on her, grounding myself in something simple, something safe. Anything but the awareness of Claire standing just a few feet away.

Lucia nods eagerly. "I chased a boy with the bat!" she exclaims.

Claire laughs, loud and easy and so damn familiar - the sound lands somewhere deeper than it should.

"She what?" Helena's voice cuts in, already suspicious, and I glance up just in time to see her walking in, her gaze locking onto Lucas.

"Hey, hey!" Lucas throws his hands up, already grinning. "I tried to stop her, she's a force of nature. Have you ever tried stopping her when she's mad?"

I shake my head, a small huff of amusement slipping out before I can stop it. "It's because she has you wrapped around her fingers, she listens to me perfectly fine. Don't you Lucia?"

Lucia nods proudly, like she's just proven something important, and Lucas scoffs.

"Yeah, okay. That's not true and you know it."

Lucia giggles, grabbing my hand now and tugging lightly, trying to pull me further into the room. I let her, letting her chatter fill the space as we move, even though I can still feel it - that quiet, constant awareness sitting just beneath my skin.

Chris says something beside me, something easy and normal, and I nod along, squeezing his hand briefly, more out of habit than thought. I should be focused on him, on this, on what's real and steady and uncomplicated.

Instead, my attention keeps slipping.

Just for a second, I glance up, and there she is.

Closer now, watching.

Not laughing, not distracted, just watching me like she's trying to read something I don't want to give her.

"Alright, everyone," Helena says, clapping her hands lightly as she steps fully into the space, her tone shifting into something more organized. "Let's start getting everything on the table before this turns into complete chaos."

Lucas snorts. "Too late."

Lucia was quick to grab my hand and lead me to the table and told me where to sit and I laughed, shaking my head as Chris sat next to me with Lucia on the other side of me. August sat down and then spoke.

"June has been cooking all day, we really should be paying her at this point." Chris chuckled and I then spoke.

"Her love language is cooking now. I wished she would've cooked for me when we were living together, though.

Instead we were living off of ramen noddles and tea.

" August laughed and I shrugged my shoulders and then Claire spoke, catching me off guard and I watched as she walked around the table, taking a seat right across from me with a wine glass in her hand.

"Helena used to survive on cereal after she got off of work."

Claire's voice cuts in, and it catches me off guard in a way I can't quite hide. My head lifts before I can stop it, my attention snapping straight to her as I watch her move around the table.

She looks completely at ease, a glass of wine in her hand, like she's always belonged in this space, like she never left it, like nothing between us ever broke.

She takes the seat directly across from me, of course she does.

"Claire-" Helena starts, already sounding like she regrets wherever this is going, but Claire just laughs, cutting her off without hesitation.

"It's true! I remember when I was here one night and I woke up to find you in the kitchen in your heels and you were munching down on Froot Loops."

The image hits instantly, and before I can stop myself, I laugh. It slips out too easily, too naturally, like no time has passed at all.

And that's when I realized, Claire is looking at me.

Just for a second. Quick, almost unnoticeable, but I caught it.

My smile lingers a second too long before I force it to settle, my gaze dropping briefly to the table as June finally joins us, setting down the last of the dishes before taking her seat beside Helena.

She signs, her movements fluid and quick.

Why are you all laughing?

Claire answers without missing a beat, her hands moving just as smoothly, just as naturally.

At Helena's survival methods of living off of cereal.

There's something about that, about how easily she slipped into it, how effortlessly she fits into every part of this, that tightened something in my chest again.

June lets out a soft laugh, turning toward Helena, who rolled her eyes before signing something back quickly, earning another quiet laugh from her.

Conversation settles into something easy again, overlapping voices and soft clinks of silverware filling the space, but I can't quite find my place in it.

I tried. I nod when I'm supposed to, murmur small responses when Chris leans in to say something, but my attention keeps drifting, pulled back across the table no matter how much I resist it.

It's subtle at first, just a glance here and there.

Then Chris shifts slightly beside me, leaning forward with that same relaxed confidence he always carries, his attention landing across the table.

"So Claire," he starts casually, resting his forearms against the edge, "how do you know everyone here?"

My stomach tightens before I can stop it but Claire doesn't hesitate.

She tilts her head slightly, her fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of her glass, and smiles, like this is the simplest question in the world. "Helena and I go way back," she says, her tone warm but light. "Long enough that I've seen her at her absolute worst."

"Hey," Helena cuts in immediately, narrowing her eyes, but there's no real heat behind it.

Claire just grins, unfazed. "You're welcome for not sharing those stories."

A quiet ripple of laughter moves around the table and Chris smiles, clearly entertained. "So you've just been... around forever?"

"Something like that," she replies, taking a small sip of her wine. "I kind of just stuck. They couldn't get rid of me."

"Debatable," Lucas mutters, earning himself a look.

Claire glances at him briefly, then back to Chris, that same charm settling right back into place without effort. "I've known Lucas just as long," she adds. "Unfortunately."

"Wow," Lucas says flatly. "Unbelievable disrespect."

"It's earned," she shoots back smoothly.

Chris huffs out a quiet laugh beside me, shaking his head slightly. "Sounds like you've got history."

"Too much of it," Claire says, but there's something softer under it, something almost unnoticeable unless you're looking for it.

I wish I wasn't looking for it.

I focus on my plate, on cutting into something I'm not even hungry for, but it doesn't stop me from listening. It doesn't stop me from noticing the way she talks, the way she holds herself, comfortable and confident, like she belongs exactly where she is.

Like she always has.

Chris leans back slightly, still engaged, still smiling. "And you just came back into town?"

There's a brief pause.

"Yeah," she says, just as easily as before. "Figured it was about time."

My grip tightens slightly around my fork.

Chris nods, completely unaware of the shift under the surface. "Well, it's good you did. Anyone who can keep up with this group deserves some kind of award."

Claire laughs softly, the sound light and effortless. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," he says. "It is."

She smiles at that and something sharp twists in my chest before I can stop it.

It's ridiculous.

There's nothing wrong with this. Nothing at all. He's being nice, she's being nice. So why does it feel like something's off? Why does it feel like I'm watching something I don't want to see?

My eyes lift before I can stop them and she's already looking at me. Not obvious, not enough for anyone else to notice. But I see it... that flicker of awareness, like she knows exactly where my attention is, like she felt it the same way I felt hers earlier.

For a second, neither of us looks away.

It's subtle, quiet, but it lingers just long enough to feel dangerous. Like we've both forgotten, for half a breath, where we are. Then she blinks, something shifting behind her eyes, and just like that, it's gone.

"So," she says, her tone easy again, like nothing just passed between us, "how did you and Mae meet?"

I nearly choke on my food.

It's immediate and humiliating, my throat tightening as I cough lightly, reaching for my glass as heat rushes up my neck. Chris glances at me, his hand hovering near my back for a second, concern flickering across his face before he looks back at Claire.

"At a coffee shop, actually," he says, a small smile pulling at his lips. "She accidentally ran into me and spilled coffee all over me. She was so embarrassed, but it was honestly adorable." He glances back at me, softer now. "I think I fell in love with her right then and there."

The table reacts the way it should with small laughs, a few teasing comments, but I barely hear any of it.

Because I'm watching her and I see it. It's quick, so quick I might've missed it if I didn't know her, but I do, I always have.

That split second where her smile falters, where something real slips through but it was gone just as fast as it came. She recovers smoothly, like she always does, setting her glass down with steady hands, her expression slipping right back into place.

"It's a good thing she's cute enough to get away with that, huh?" she says, her voice softer now, edged with something I can't quite place.

Chris laughs, nodding easily. "Definitely."

I should say something, I know I should. I should laugh, or roll my eyes, or make some comment to keep the moment moving, to keep it normal.

But I can't, because my chest feels too tight, and I don't know why.

Conversation shifts again, flowing around us like nothing happened. Lucas says something to Claire, pulling her attention away, and she leans back slightly in her chair, responding with that same effortless charm, like she wasn't just...

Like I didn't just everything written across her face.

I forced myself to look away, focusing on my plate, on the sound of Lucia asking June another question, on anything that doesn't feel like it's unraveling under the surface and Chris's hand finds mine under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I squeeze back automatically because it feels grounding, steady, and safe. Everything I'm supposed to want, and yet...

I glanced up again, I didn't mean to, but I did. And across the table, Claire is already looking at me and this time, she doesn't look away right away.

There's no smile now. No teasing, no ease, just something quieter. Heavier, like she's thinking too much, like she's holding something back that she won't let anyone else see.

My breath caught slightly and I quickly looked away, I had too.

The rest of dinner passes in fragments after that. Laughter, conversations, small moments I should be part of but only half register. I respond when I'm spoken to, smile when it's expected, but everything feels just slightly out of place, like I'm standing a step outside of it all.

Like I'm not fully here, like some part of me is stuck somewhere across the table.

Eventually, plates start to clear, chairs shifting as people stand and move, the energy loosening as dinner winds down. Lucia climbs out of her seat, immediately pulling at Lucas for attention, while Helena and June start gathering dishes despite half-hearted protests.

"I've got it," I say quickly, already standing before I can think too hard about it.

Helena glances at me. "You don't have to-"

"I know," I cut in gently, offering a small smile. "I want to."

She studies me for a second, like she might push, but then nods. "Alright. Thank you."

I start collecting plates, focusing on the simple, repetitive motion. It gives me something to do, something to hold onto.

Chris joins me without question, taking a few dishes from the table, brushing his shoulder lightly against mine as he passes. "You okay?" he murmurs quietly.

"Yeah," I answer too quickly. Then, softer, "Yeah. I'm good."

I turned toward the kitchen, stacking plates carefully, but as I move, I feel it again, that awareness and pull I can't seem to shake.

I don't want to look, I know I shouldn't, but I do anyway.

Claire is still sitting at the table with her wine glass in her hand, watching me. Not openly, not enough for anyone else to notice. But I see it, the way her gaze lingers just a second too long, the way she doesn't look away immediately this time.

Something twists sharply in my chest and I turn away before it can settle, before it can become something worse, something harder to ignore.

Because I already know that this isn't over, not even close.

And as I step into the kitchen, the noise of the room fading slightly behind me, one thought settles heavy in my chest, impossible to shake no matter how hard I try.

Because seeing her again wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to feel like everything I've spent years burying just came rushing back to life, but it does.

And that might be the worst part of all.