✧･Chapter 22 But Did She?
"You girls don't have to do this for me."
My grandma's voice carries from the kitchen before I even fully register where she is, and I glance up from where I'm leaning against the doorway. She's standing there with her arm in a sling, cast wrapped from wrist to elbow, like she's trying very hard to look less fragile than she actually is.
She shifts her weight against the counter, eyeing Hallie as she practically raids the fridge like she's on a mission.
"I'm not doing anything," I say, pushing off the doorway just enough to step further into the kitchen. "I'm just here for emotional support while Hallie plays chef."
My grandma snorts softly, unimpressed, her gaze flicking toward me. "After all these years, Claire, I really thought you'd learn how to cook something besides instant noodles."
"Hey," I protest lightly, folding my arms. "That's not true."
Hallie lets out a laugh, already pulling out a pot and turning toward the sink. "Oh yeah? Go ahead. Name one thing you can cook that doesn't involve boiling water and questionable life choices."
I narrow my eyes at her. "I make a mean grilled cheese."
"You burned the last one," she shoots back without even looking at me, filling the pot with water.
"That was one time," I argue.
"It was last month."
My grandma laughs at that, shaking her head slightly. "She survives off takeout and those... what do you call them? Bars?"
"Power bars," Hallie says quickly, glancing over her shoulder at me with a smirk. "She lives off power bars and iced coffee like a stressed college kid."
"What's wrong with power bars?" I ask, pushing myself up onto the counter, ignoring the look my grandma gives me for it. "They give me the power to deal with my everyday life."
Hallie rolls her eyes. "You sound like an ad."
"I could be the face of it," I shrug. "Honestly, I think I'd do great."
"Yeah," she mutters, turning back to the stove, "until they ask you to demonstrate cooking something and you panic."
"I don't panic," I say.
"You absolutely panic."
"I strategically avoid situations that require effort," I correct.
My grandma hums like she's considering that. "That sounds about right."
I shake my head, but there's a small smile pulling at my mouth anyway.
Hallie sets the pot down on the stove and turns the burner on, then glances at me again. "You're lucky I'm making spaghetti. When was the last time you had an actual meal that didn't come in a paper bag?"
I think about it for a second. "Probably Chinese takeout last week."
Hallie stares at me. "That doesn't count."
"It had vegetables," I defend.
"Name one."
I hesitate. "...There were green things."
My grandma laughs again, fuller this time, and it fills the kitchen in a way that feels familiar. Like nothing outside of this room exists.
"You're hopeless," Hallie says, but there's no bite to it.
"Yet here I am," I reply, spreading my arms slightly. "Thriving."
"Barely surviving," she corrects.
"Same difference."
My grandma shakes her head, but she's smiling, and for a moment everything feels normal. And then it sneaks up on me before I can stop it.
Mae. It's not even a full thought at first. Just a feeling. The way my chest shifts slightly, like something pulling tight without warning. I look away from them, just for a second, focusing on nothing in particular as I try to shake it off.
Hallie notices anyway, of course she does.
"You good?" She asks, more casually than it actually is.
I blink, forcing my attention back to her. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
She gives me a look, not pushing, just noting it.
I shrug it off, sliding off the counter. "What? I can't just stand here and enjoy being insulted for my life choices?"
"You enjoy it a little too much," she mutters.
"Yeah, well," I say, grabbing a wooden spoon from the drawer just to do something with my hands, "it builds character."
My grandma hums again, watching me a little more closely now, and I know that look. She's clocking something, I just don't know how much.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Hallie asks, breaking through it as she pulls a pan from the cabinet and sets it on the stove a little louder than necessary. She grabs the meat, dropping it into the pan with a sharp sizzle as the butter melts.
"They can survive without me," I say with a shrug, leaning back against the counter. "And besides, Helena's there. I can get things done from my laptop and my phone. I'm basically a modern miracle."
My grandma raises an eyebrow. "Mmhm. That sounds suspiciously like an excuse."
"It's called delegation," I correct.
"It's called avoidance," Hallie mutters under her breath, grabbing the spatula.
My grandma shifts slightly, her gaze still on me. "How is dear Helena? And the kids?"
That softens me immediately and I smile without thinking. "They're good. Really good." I glance down for a second, then back up. "Lucia started tee-ball. She plays like she's already in the MLB - full confidence, zero fear. She definitely gets that from Lucas."
Hallie hums. "That kid has more attitude than you did at her age."
"It's terrifying," I reply.
"It really is," my grandma agrees.
I laugh softly, then continue, "And Faye..." I shake my head a little, smiling wider now. "She's a menace. Absolute chaos. But she's always drawing. Like, constantly. On paper, walls and probably Helena's sanity."
Hallie snorts.
"I think she gets that from her aunt Mae," I add, the words slipping out before I even register them.
There's a small pause, it's not long, but it's enough.
My grandma tilts her head slightly. "Mae? Is she that... artist?"
I nod. "Yeah, painter." I try to keep it casual, but I can already feel it, the shift in me. "She's actually really successful. She just had a show last week."
"Oh?" My grandma asks, more interested now. "Was it good?"
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head a little like I still can't quite wrap my mind around it. "It was... yeah. It was really good. Like-" I huff out a small laugh. "Annoyingly good."
Hallie glances over her shoulder at me. "Annoyingly?"
"Yeah," I say, pushing off the counter and pacing a step without realizing it. "Like, the kind of good where you stand there and think, how is this person even real?"
"Wow," Hallie says slowly. "Since when do you like art?"
"I've always liked art," I shoot back immediately. "Shut up."
She turns fully this time, eyebrow raised. "Claire."
"What?"
"You once said a stick figure stressed you out."
"That was different," I mutter, playing with the wooden spoon and fiddling with it. "That one had a weird style."
Hallie stares at me and my grandma smiles to herself.
"Uh-huh," Hallie says. "And this has nothing to do with the artist?"
"It has to do with the fact that she's talented," I say quickly.
"Mm."
I look down at the spoon, turning it in my hands. "And her work is- it's just... it makes you feel things, okay?"
There's another pause, heavier this time. Hallie's voice comes quieter now. "Was Mae the woman at the hospital?"
I nod once. "Yeah."
"The one who wouldn't leave your side?" Hallie adds.
I hesitate, then nod again. "Yeah."
Hallie lets out a slow breath, then turns back to the stove, like she's processing it while she cooks, and then, "she's hot."
I snap my head up. "What?"
Hallie shrugs, completely unfazed. "What? I have eyes. She's hot."
My cheeks warm instantly. "Okay-"
"I'm just saying," she continues, glancing at me again, "I noticed."
"That's... great," I mutter. "Good for you."
"Please," she adds, turning the heat down slightly. "Like you haven't slept with her."
My grandma lets out a small, surprised snort.
I glare at Hallie. "That's none of your business."
It comes out sharper than I mean it to, and the second it leaves my mouth, I regret it. Hallie stills and slowly, she sets the spatula down on the counter, then she turns to face me fully.
"Oh my God," she says, quieter now. "Claire."
My grip tightens around the wooden spoon. "What?"
"No way."
I shake my head immediately. "No-"
"No way," she repeats, eyes narrowing slightly like she's watching everything click into place.
"No way what?" My grandma asks, now completely invested.
Hallie doesn't look away from me. "You like her."
The words land hard. "No, I don't," I fire back instantly.
"Yes, you do."
"Hallie- no, I don't."
"You just called her 'annoyingly good' and said her art makes you feel things," she counters. "You hate feelings."
"I don't hate feelings."
"You absolutely hate feelings."
"I dislike unnecessary ones," I correct.
Hallie folds her arms. "You're pacing."
"I'm standing."
"You're deflecting."
"I'm not-"
"You're blushing."
"I am not blushing."
"Claire."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"Your ears are red."
I immediately lift a hand to my ear. "They are not-"
Hallie just stares at me, and that's when it hits. Not her words, not the teasing, but the fact that I'm arguing this hard.
I stop and the kitchen feels quieter all of a sudden. My grandma doesn't say anything and Hallie doesn't either, they just watch me.
Waiting on me and I hate how my chest tightens. How my throat feels like it's closing up around something I don't want to say.
"I don't-" I start, but it comes out weaker this time.
Hallie softens, just slightly. "Claire..."
I look down at the spoon in my hands, my grip loosening. Because I know, I know what she sees.
"I-" I swallow, shaking my head a little. "It's not... it's not like that."
Hallie doesn't move. "Then what is it like?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because I don't have a version of this that sounds safe.
My voice drops when I finally speak. "It's complicated."
Hallie lets out a quiet breath, like she was expecting that answer. "Yeah," she says gently, nudging the meat around in the pan. "It usually is when you like someone."
"What does that mean?" I ask, a little sharper than I intend.
Hallie glances over her shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised. "It means exactly what it sounds like," she says, amused. "You don't do 'complicated' unless feelings are involved."
I scoff lightly, shaking my head. "That's not...no. That's not what this is."
"Mmhm," she hums, clearly not convinced. "Remember Jess?"
My grandma immediately chuckles under her breath, and I feel my entire body tense.
"Oh my God, Hallie," I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "Please, for the love of God, shut up."
"I'm just saying," Hallie continues, completely ignoring me. "You've always hated feelings. Like, actively avoided them. Especially anything that even remotely looks like a crush."
"I don't get crushes," I mutter.
"Right," she says dryly. "Because you're emotionally unavailable and proud of it."
I shoot her a look. "That's not-"
"When was the last time you even dated someone?" she cuts in, turning to face me now, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed.
I open my mouth, then close it and she nods like that answers everything. "Exactly."
"I don't care for dating," I say, quieter this time, but more defensive.
"Yeah, yeah," Hallie waves me off, turning back to the stove. "We all know. You're way too cool to get tied down, have a relationship, feel things-"
"I feel things," I snap, before I can stop myself.
There's a beat of silence and Hallie slowly glances back at me again, her expression shifting just slightly, like she caught something real in that.
"...Do you?" she asks, softer now.
I look away, and that's when I feel it, my grandma's eyes on me. Not teasing, nor amused, just more like studying.
"Claire..." she says gently.
I don't like that tone, not one bit. I glance over at her, trying to keep my face neutral, but I can already feel everything slipping at the edges.
"What?" I ask, quieter.
She tilts her head just a little, her good hand resting on the counter as she watches me. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened," I say quickly, too quickly. "Can we please just drop this?"
Hallie lets out a small, knowing huff behind me. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
"I'm not lying," I insist, even though I don't sound convincing.
My grandma doesn't say anything right away, which somehow makes it worse. Then, softly, "You can talk to us."
I swallow, my grip tightening slightly around the wooden spoon in my hand. "There's nothing to talk about," I say, almost under my breath.
Hallie turns the stove down, then fully faces me again. "Okay, then answer one thing."
I don't respond.
"Does she know?" My chest tightens instantly.
And that silence, that tiny, split-second hesitation is loud enough to answer for me.
Hallie exhales, long and slow. "Wow."
"Hallie-"
"No, no," she shakes her head, not harsh, just... processing. "You don't date, you don't do feelings, and now suddenly there's a 'complicated' situation and a she who may or may not know?"
"She knows," I mutter quickly.
Hallie freezes. The spatula in her hand slips, clattering against the pan as she stares at me, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
I drag a hand through my hair, already regretting opening my mouth - but it's too late now.
"Like I said, it's complicated. Mistakes were made years ago, stuff happened, everything got messy.
She ignored me, refused to talk about it, and now she has this boyfriend, she's perfectly happy.
Or... I think she is. I don't know." I let out a short, breathless laugh.
"And then the other night, she kissed me, and one thing led to another, and now everything's just-" I gesture vaguely. "-completely fucked."
I look up and immediately regret it. They're both staring at me like I just said something in another language.
Hallie blinks a few times, then coughs, like her brain is trying to restart. "Woah- woah, hold on. Wait." A disbelieving laugh slips out of her. "No, no, no. Back up. Back way up."
My grandma still hasn't said a word, just watching me like she's trying to understand where this all went wrong.
Hallie points the spatula at me. "Okay. So. You two hooked up years ago."
I nod once.
"You moved back."
Another nod.
"She has a boyfriend."
"Yeah."
"And then, somehow, you two end up sleeping together again?" Her voice pitches up slightly. "Recently?"
I close my eyes for a second. "Yes."
Hallie lets out a sharp laugh, pacing a step like she physically can't stay still. "What about the boyfriend? Did they break up? Are they on a break? Is he imaginary? What is happening right now, Claire?"
I shake my head, my stomach twisting. "No. They're still together."
Hallie just stares at me now, all humor gone. "Oh my God."
"Yeah," I whisper.
"Claire," she says, slower this time, like she needs me to hear it. "Are you serious?"
I don't answer right away, because I don't have anything that makes this sound better. Anything that makes it make sense.
My grandma finally speaks, her voice quiet but firm. "Does he know?"
"I don't know," I say immediately.
Hallie exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. "Jesus, Claire."
"I know," I snap, more defensive than I mean to be. "I know, okay? You don't have to say it."
"Then what are you doing?" she asks, not yelling, but worse... softer. "Because this? This isn't you."
I let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah? I think that's kind of the problem."
There's a quiet beat after that. "So... what happens now?" My grandma asks softly.
I shrug, but it feels useless, like the motion doesn't even carry meaning anymore. "I don't know. I left before she woke up. I tried to leave a note, but..." I shake my head, my grip tightening slightly around the spoon. "I couldn't write anything that made sense. Or anything that wasn't a lie."
Hallie watches me for a long moment, her expression unreadable now. Then she sighs, quieter than before.
"If you had written something," she says, "what would you have said?"
The question hits harder than it should and I go still. My eyes drop to the wooden spoon in my hand, thumb tracing along the worn edge like it might give me an answer. For a second, I think about brushing it off, saying something sarcastic.
But it's too late for that, and my voice comes out quieter than I expect.
"I don't know."
Hallie doesn't buy it. "Claire."
I swallow, my jaw tightening and another beat passes.
And then, barely above a whisper, "choose me."
The words hang there, fragile and exposed. Hallie's breath catches slightly, and when I glance up, both of them are staring at me again - but differently this time.
I let out a shaky breath, shaking my head like I can take it back. "Which is exactly why I didn't write it," I add quickly. "Because that's not fair. She has a life. She had made her choice a long time ago."
"But did she?" Hallie asks gently.
I don't answer, because I don't know.