Light in the Shadows

CHAPTER TWENTY


-MAGGIE-



Things were pretty freaking fantastic. Better than I could have ever dared to hope for. After that horrible day in the cafeteria and then accompanying Clay to therapy, I felt like we had entered a new chapter. I was done with waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now that I was hearing, straight from Clay’s mouth, how he struggled, about how hard things still were for him, I didn’t obsess so much about being blindsided. I felt like for once all of our cards were on the table.

I still worried about him. Hearing him tell Shaemus about how he still thought of cutting himself. That I unwittingly triggered these responses because of his deep seeded feelings of shame and guilt were damn near impossible to listen to.

I would stare at Rachel and Daniel and wish like hell Clay and I could get to that point where we were passed the bullshit and just living our lives, with each other. Like any other normal couple.

But that wasn’t our lot and I was learning to accept it. Life with Clayton Reed would never be sunshine and roses. It would be lots of shadows with intermittent light. And I was beginning to figure out ways to appreciate the light when I saw it. Because that darkness was still there. It most likely would always be there.

We were working on it though, together. And that was saying something.

So we slipped into a much better place than we had ever been before. Everyone could see the change in not only Clay but in me as well. Rachel commented on it after school one day.

“You seem happy, Mags. So does Clay. It makes me feel good to know you’re feeling good.” Rachel was simplistic like that. I had given her a hug, which again was totally unlike me. But she had taken it in stride.

Daniel was less convinced but for the time being he kept his mouth shut about it. If I was okay, then he was okay, and that’s what I loved about him.

My parents were barely concealing their very serious anxiety about the situation. They didn’t interrogate me, which I appreciated. Bu they had become sneakier in getting information. Clay had been insistent in coming to see them. I knew that he felt he needed to make the effort with them. So I had facilitated their reintroduction.

Clay brought me home after a shift at Java Madness. I knew both of my parents were home, so I impulsively asked Clay to come inside. It was probably best not to prepare him for the sit down with my parents. I knew he would have only worked himself up unnecessarily. Mom and Dad would either accept him or not. Either way this was Clay’s chance to prove that he wanted to make amends and that he was trying to change.

“You ready for this?” I asked him, noticing he had gone a little pale. Clay didn’t say anything, only nodded his head. Going inside I found my dad reading the newspaper and my mom working on her laptop in the living room.

They both looked up as we came into the room. They weren’t surprised to see Clay; I had warned them I’d be bringing him by. While I didn’t want to put undue pressure on Clay by preparing him for the visit, my parents needed to be warned ahead of time. It gave them time to sort out how they would respond to seeing the boy who they blamed for their daughter’s epic freak out months before.

Clay had dropped my hand and stuffed his into his jeans, a sure sign of his discomfort. “Hello Mr. Young. Mrs. Young.” He had tentatively walked farther into the room as though he were approaching the firing squad.

My dad had looked at him over the top of his glasses and put the paper on the couch beside him before getting to his feet. My mother’s smile, while a little forced, was at least firmly in place as she met Clay half way to greet him.

“Hello, Clay.” My dad shook his hand and I was relieved at the lack of posturing on his end. Mom shook his hand as well and I was pleased at how civil they were being. Score one for the parental units.

“How’s Ruby?” my mother asked, squeezing Clay’s forearm in sympathy. Clay rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to me as though reaffirming that I hadn’t left him to face my parents alone.

“She has her good and bad days. Well actually, her bad days and not so bad days. It’s been tough,” Clay answered truthfully. My dad’s face softened a bit and I knew that Clay’s honesty had gotten to him. My mom made a clucking noise in the back of her throat.

“If there’s anything either of you need, please don’t hesitate to ask,” my mom told him and I could see that Clay was blown away by her offer.

“Thank you, Mrs. Young. Ruby and I appreciate all of the food you’ve given us. It’s been nice to eat something that didn’t come out of box from the freezer.” Clay’s mouth quirked up in a painful smile. It was the smile of someone who didn’t know whether they were about to be eaten alive or not.

“You are very welcome,” Mom said and waved him toward the couch. “Have a seat. I was just getting ready to make some tea. Can I get you anything?” she asked both of us. Clay shook his head.

“No, thank you,” he responded in such forced politeness that I wished I could tell him to relax. But my dad had already honed in. He had sat down across from Clay, his arms crossed over his chest. My dad had always been the harder sell. Particularly where Clayton Reed was concerned.

When my mother asked me to help her in the kitchen I had declined initially. I was more than a little worried about leaving Clay alone with my dad for any amount of time. But my mom had insisted and I could tell by the look she was throwing my way that I needed to make myself scarce.

Clay’s expression had been bordering on panic and I could only grimace in return as I followed my mom into the kitchen. “Do you think it’s smart leaving those two alone?” I had asked my mom, casting nervous looks down the hallway toward the living room. I could hear the nondescript murmur of their voices but nothing else.

My mom had gone about getting things together for tea. She pulled out a box of peanut butter cookies and put them on a plate. “Your dad needs to talk to Clay, Maggie. I think it’s best to let them speak privately for a moment.” That had made my stomach flutter nervously.

My mom had given me a reassuring hug. “He’s not going to threaten him with a shot gun. But there are things he needs to say. Things Clay needs to hear. If you plan on having a relationship with him, then your father and I are going to make certain things very clear.” I had felt the overwhelming urge to throw up and then run into the living room and whisk Clay out of the house. What the hell had I been thinking in bringing him here? I wasn’t so sure Clay was emotionally ready to deal with whatever my dad decided to dish out.

Five minutes (that actually felt like five hours) later, we took the cups of tea and plate of cookies back into the living room. I felt the tension as soon as we entered the room and my eyes fastened on Clay in apprehension. I had been surprised to see that he looked…well…okay. Both he and my dad looked up when we placed the stuff on the coffee table. I chanced a glance at my dad and he seemed rigid but at least he wasn’t angry.

I had been dying to know what was said, but I figured I’d have to wait until later. For the time being, conversation had drifted into how Ruby’s shop was doing. Whether it had been hard for Clay readjusting to life in a small town. My parents had asked him questions about Florida without outright demanding information concerning the facility where he had lived for three months.

Their questions instead consisted of that sneaky, underhanded method of information gathering that they had recently adopted. Because Clay began to offer up tidbits about his time at the Grayson Center that he hadn’t even told me. He shared about how difficult it had been to keep up with school, having only two hours a day to cram it all in. He talked a bit about the people he met there, speaking at length about his roommate Tyler, who had been there for heroine abuse and paranoid schizophrenia.

I tried not to sit there with my mouth hanging open. Here we were, two months after Clay had returned to Davidson and I barely knew a thing about Grayson or the people he had befriended there. I had felt like the world’s worst girlfriend. But my parents respectfully listened and asked their own questions.

“I’m glad Maggie is seeing your therapist. That was a wonderful thing to suggest,” my mom had said, again flooring me with her understanding. Clay had smiled at me, a soft look on his face as he answered my mother.

“I’m completely invested in making this work. I want Maggie and I to have the kind of relationship that is built totally on trust and support for each other. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure I’m the best person I can be for her. And for me.” My parents seemed to appreciate his words, though I noticed they still watched the two of us closely.

When it was time for Clay to leave, my mother hugged him and my dad had patted his shoulder. “We’ll see you soon,” Dad had said as I walked Clay out to his car.

“Yes, sir. And thank you, for everything,” Clay told my dad who only nodded. I waited until my parents closed the front door and we were walking down the front path to his car before asking him about his earlier conversation with my dad.

Clay had laughed. “That was killing, you wasn’t it?” I had playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“Tell me! Please!” I whined, making Clay laugh harder.

He had tapped the end of my nose with his finger. “So nosy.” I rolled my eyes.

Clay unlocked his car and turned to lean against it, pulling me between his legs, his arms wrapped around my middle. “He was giving me the dad warning. Letting me know he didn’t want me hurting you again. Threatened bodily harm, you know how it goes,” Clay said lightly and I pinched his side, knowing he was messing with me.

“Ouch, okay.” Clay had sobered and pulled me tightly against his chest. He looked down into my upturned face and kissed me on the lips. “He told me that what happened before had hurt you deeply. That they had been terrified for you and it had been the most helpless he has ever felt as your father. He told me that he would not watch you go through that again, even if that meant being the bad guy and keeping us apart.” I sucked in a breath, scared and shocked by my father’s candor with Clay. Though I should have expected it.

Clay had kissed the top of my head. “I told him that I understood and that is why I hadn’t contacted you while I was in treatment. I was convinced that staying away was the best thing for you. That you needed to live your life without me in it.” His grip around my body had become tighter and his voice broke.

“But I then told your dad that I now knew living my life without you wasn’t an option. And that is why I was taking my medication, going to therapy, doing whatever I had to do to make sure the life we have together is a good one and that it makes you happy. Because there is nothing more important to me than your happiness.” My eyes had stung with tears and I pulled up on my tip toes, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

He had held me for a long time, tasting me, caressing my lips with his. Our tongues tangled in a dance of total love. When we pulled away he had run his hand down the side of my face.

“I love you, Maggie May Young,” he had whispered.

“And I love you, Clayton Reed,” I responded with equal ardor.

After Clay had left and I went back inside, my parents didn’t discuss Clay’s visit. But I felt the ice thaw and I knew that while they didn’t necessarily trust Clay, they at least respected where he was coming from.

Saturday night dates quickly became a regular occurrence. It was as though Clay were making up for lost time. Sometimes he took me to dinner. Sometimes it was a movie. Sometimes we went hiking in the afternoon and had a picnic. Other times we met up with Rachel and Daniel and went to the mall.

It was all so normal. So teenage. I felt better knowing that Clay was consistently taking his medications. He had to take them at lunch time and he did so every day without fail. He didn’t make a show of it, but he never hid it from me either.

How did we ever get so lucky as to be in this place together? It was like a dream. I was terrified that I would wake up and everything had popped like a bubble and Clay would be gone and I would be alone and all of this would be nothing more than a massive delusion.

But while I was deliriously happy, some people, or should I say person wasn’t so thrilled with my relationship. My friendship with Jake had significantly cooled. Gone was our easy banter while we worked. In fact, we hadn’t shared a shift in over two weeks and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had requested a different schedule.

My heart hurt a little at the thought that I had callously led him on; only to drop him in a red hot minute the second Clay gave me the time of day again. I felt like a total a*shole. I had tried to talk to Jake, to make it right in some way, but he either was too pissed or just not ready to talk to me. So any attempts at making myself feel better where he was concerned would just have to wait; if it ever happened at all.

But Clay and me. We were pretty close to perfect.

I tried not to stare at him as he sat on his bed after school, sketching in a notebook while I made an attempt to finish my homework. I was horribly distracted by the fact that his shirt had ridden up on his stomach, revealing smooth skin and drool worthy muscles.

“Do your homework,” he scolded me with a smirk. I flushed at being caught. I looked down at the illegible words on my paper and tried to focus.

“I am doing my homework,” I muttered, tapping my pencil against my book. Clay’s chuckle made my stomach knot up. Yeah, I was so not doing my homework. I closed my American History book with a bang and moved across the room slowly until I was beside the bed.

Clay grinned as I sat down and leaned into kiss the side of his neck. “Whatcha workin’ on?” I purred, rubbing my nose along the join of his shoulder.

“You should be doing your work. I feel bad for distracting you,” Clay’s voice was husky as I started to kiss the line of jaw. I loved the taste of him; salty and sweet all at the same time. While the emotional side of our relationship was going strong, the physical aspects had come to an unfortunate stall. I wasn’t sure what the hang up was. Because I knew Clay wanted me. I could feel it in the way he kissed me, the way he held me. But it was as though he were scared to take that step back into that place that used to be so familiar.

“Don’t feel bad. I’d rather be doing this anyway,” I said, lightly nipping at the skin below his ear. When I threw my leg over him and straddled his lap, I felt him weaken. Finally! I almost did a victory dance but then I was sucked under by something else entirely. Oh yeah, it was my raging hormones.

Clay tossed his sketchbook off to the side and grabbed ahold of my hips and pulled me up against him, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. My tongue traced a line from his ear lobe to the corner of his mouth. When I pressed my lips to his, he flipped me onto my back and began to literally devour me. Our teeth banged together with the force of his mouth against mine and I opened up for his tongue.

Clay groaned in the back of his throat as my hands worked up the back of his shirt, desperate for the feel of his bare skin. And then his shirt was up and over his head, landing on the floor. I ran my fingers lightly over the ridged scars on his chest and he shivered. Even in the heat of that moment, I couldn’t stop myself from making sure there were no new cuts on his body. I was relieved to only touch old wounds.

His hands followed my example and began their own exploration up my shirt. This was the farthest we had gone since we were together in North Carolina. I eagerly anticipated the feel of his hands on my breasts and arched my back when he finally palmed my bra covered flesh.

When he started to roll my aching nipples between his forefinger and thumb I thought I would come undone right then and there. Like a man possessed, Clay ripped my shirt and my bra off in record time. If there was a world record for bra removal, Clay Reed would have broken it.

His mouth left my lips and attached to my waiting breasts. He tasted and teased with his tongue until he pulled a nipple into his mouth. “Ahh!” I called out, too lost in the moment to worry about the fact that Ruby was in the house somewhere. Classy, huh?

Clay’s fingers found the button of my jeans and deftly unbuttoned them and brought the zipper down. His mouth still on my breast, his hand slipped down the front of my pants, touching me over my panties. I started to tremble, my head thrown back on the pillow as Clay worked my body.

It had been so long since I had felt this. Entirely too long if you ask me. I wasn’t one for regular self-pleasuring so I had been sadly neglected on the orgasm front. That was clearly about to be remedied.

“Clay,” I moaned as his fingers pushed passed the edge of my underwear and found my wet core. In one perfect thrust, he slipped his finger inside me and started the slow, tortuous rhythm that had me falling apart in ten point two seconds flat.

He continued to rub and thrust as his mouth returned to mine and his tongue fell into rhythm with his finger. Maybe I should be returning the favor, but I was way too caught up in my orgasmic haze.

After my body skyrocketed again only to come crashing down, Clay withdrew his finger, his lips slowing in their aggressive assault of my mouth. I was breathing like I had just run a mile in four minutes. My heart beat so fast I was worried I might pass out.

Clay fixed my panties and zipped up my pants. He then pulled me onto my side so that he was cradling my back to his front. He nuzzled into my hair and pressed a hand to my belly. “Uh, wow. Thank you,” I said lamely.

Clay snorted in my ear. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It was my pleasure, baby.” My toes curled at the sensual way he voiced the endearment. I wanted to squeal in pleasure. I was such a girl sometimes. A squeally, pink ribbon and sequins girl. And that was a side of me that only Clay could bring out.

My eyes caught sight of the discarded sketch pad and I pulled it closer. I rolled onto my back and brought the paper up to my face. My lips split into a smile as I saw the detailed drawing Clay had done of my profile while I had been sitting at his desk doing my homework.

“I do not look like that, Clay. You have some biases in the way that you see me,” I scoffed, taken aback as I always was by the depth of his talent. He really was an amazing artist.

Clay kissed my cheek and brought his hand up to run down my nose. “No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t see things clearly. How you can look in the mirror every single day and not see the beautiful girl that I do, is beyond me.” His words made me flush. Not in embarrassment but in total and complete contentment. A feeling I was becoming slightly addicted to.

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at Clay, who arched his eyebrow at me. “That look makes me nervous. Makes me wonder what you have going on it that head of yours,” Clay teased, tapping the middle of my forehead.

“You should go to art school or something. You’re really good. You should be able to get into a program somewhere,” I said and was more than a little disappointed by the way Clay tensed up. We hadn’t really talked about the future much beyond the fact that we wanted to spend it together.

But how would that work when I went off to school? I had gotten my acceptance letter to James Madison University earlier in the week. My parents were thrilled, Rachel and Daniel were stoked. But I hadn’t told Clay yet. Mostly because I was terrified of ruining what we had with talk of separation and long distance relationships.

Clay sat up and tossed his sketch pad on the bedside table. It was getting dark and he turned on the small lamp. I could see the strain my suggestion had caused. Which was ridiculous. I hadn’t been blowing smoke up his ass when I complimented his artistic abilities. He really was awesome.

“So what do you think?” I asked, scooting along the bed until I was sat beside him, our legs pressed against each other.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Clay said shortly, which kind of irritated me.

“Why don’t you look into it? What could it hurt? Have you thought at all about what you’re going to do after graduation? Are you planning to stay here with Ruby? Or are you going to school?” I knew I was pressing. But the unanswered questions between us were starting to suffocate me.

Clay grit his teeth. “Look, Maggie. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I just got out of f*cking treatment. My aunt’s girlfriend was killed in a car accident and I’m trying to do the right thing by Ruby. I haven’t exactly had the luxury of thinking too much about my goals,” he sneered at me and I recoiled a bit, not happy to see this old and all too familiar Clay.

“I was just,” I began but Clay cut me off.

“You were just sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. That’s what you were doing. I don’t want to talk about it. Why can’t we just enjoy right now without f*cking it up with talk about what you think I should be doing?” Alright, he was getting pissed and the way he started pacing around made all of this way too reminiscent of before.

But unlike before I didn’t start backpedaling and trying to make this situation better for him. I didn’t placate Clay and soothe his wounded psyche. This time I decided laying it out there was better for him and for me.

“Well, I’m going off to college in three and a half months. Three and a half months, Clay! And I don’t want to go away without knowing you’re doing something with your life too,” I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Clay’s laugh was dark and bitter and made me cringe. “Don’t worry about me, Mags. I won’t interfere with your life. You’ll get your pretty little future and I won’t stand in your way,” he spit out.

I jumped to my feet. “Enough with the self-pity. I was just trying to point out that you are an amazing artist and that would be a constructive use of your talents. You know, find a career doing something you love. I was just trying to be helpful,” I retorted. I eyed the brown bottle of pills on his dresser and the thought flashed through my mind as to whether he was taking them or not. Because the erratic mood swing was scaring me.

Clay must have seen the direction of my gaze because he sighed and shook his head. “Are you going to start thinking I’m lying about taking my meds every time we get into a fight?” he asked me wearily.

I felt my lips start to tremble. “Can you blame me?” I asked and that seemed to take the wind right out of Clay’s anger. His shoulders drooped and he dropped his head.

“No, I guess I can’t,” he said. Then the only sound was our heavy breathing. I didn’t know what to say to get us back to that beautiful moment we had shared minutes earlier. The whiplash change was unfortunately not unexpected. And that made me more than a little sad. I wanted so much to be past this, but I knew we had such a long way to go.

The coward in me wondered if I had it in me to tough it out, to ride this rollercoaster for as long as it lasted. But that part inside me was very, very small.

I slowly moved until I was stood in front of him and put my hands up so that my fingers smoothed their way through his thick, dark hair. “I suppose that was my less than tactful way of asking about our future. Sorry if I was bitchy about it,” I apologized. Because I really was sorry for taking this important conversation and becoming combative about it.

Clay shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about what I’m going to do…after. That’s part of the reason I meet with the stupid guidance counselor so damn much. Mr. Hunt is trying to personally shape my life,” he smirked, finally meeting my eyes and I knew we were over that frightening hump.

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?” I asked, my fingers still combing through his hair. I knew he loved it when I did that and I was rewarded with the softness that started to overtake his face.

“Well, if you couldn’t tell by my shitty attitude a few minutes ago, the whole thing is pretty crappy. I have no idea what I want to do after I graduate. I wish I had some sort of plan. But I just don’t,” he said tiredly. I grasped the back of his neck and pulled him to my lips, kissing him soundly.

“Well, I’ll help you figure it out. And we can make sure that whatever you do, will involve the both of us,” I promised and Clay’s small smile made our earlier argument fade into the background.

The sound of Clay’s phone ringing broke the mood and he grabbed it and answered without looking at the screen to see who it was.

“Hello?” he said, still smiling at me. I cocked my head to the side when I saw the way his face blanked. “Hey, no that’s cool. I didn’t forget.” Clay darted a look my way, which made me feel kind of weird. Who was he talking to?

“This weekend? Sure. No, honestly, Ruby won’t care. I’ll text you directions on Friday,” Clay looked at me again and I couldn’t read his expression. Okay, so it sounded like someone was coming for a visit. Why did that make his entire demeanor change?

“Okay. I’ll talk to you then, Maria.” Maria? Who the f*ck was Maria?

Clay hung up a few seconds later and dropped the phone back to his desk. Okay, Maggie, don’t pounce. Wait for him to explain about Maria and why she was coming for a visit. Don’t play the part of the jealous shrew. Easier said than done.

Clay jammed his hands in his pockets. Dead giveaway there buddy, I thought nastily.

“Maria?” I said impatiently, tired of waiting for him to grow some balls and give me an explanation.

Clay grimaced, never a good sight. “Uh, yeah. Maria is a friend of mine from Grayson’s. She’s visiting her brother in Alexandria and wants to come down for the night,” he said. A friend from treatment. Okay, that didn’t sound so bad. Then why was Clay acting so strangely?

“I’ve never heard you mention Maria. Were you close?” I asked, watching him carefully. One point for Clay, he not once looked away guiltily. He met my eyes steadily and I knew that this girl, whoever she was, wasn’t some girlfriend he acquired in the short time we were apart. Because for all of Clay’s faults, he wasn’t a cheater. Even though we hadn’t technically been together while he was in Florida. But I knew him well enough to know that he would never have shacked up with someone that soon after ending things with me. He just wasn’t wired that way.

“Yeah, we got pretty tight. She and Tyler were my closest friends there. I was surprised when she called me a few weeks ago and told me she had been discharged. But I guess she was ready. Anyway, she’ll only be here for the day. She asked to stay over and I hope that’s cool with you,” Clay said and I knew that if I had told him it wasn’t he would have called his friend, Maria and told her she would have to make other arrangements.

And that reassurance went a long way in squelching the beginning smolders of jealousy in my gut. “Yeah, that’s fine. I look forward to meeting her.” Okay, so I was lying my ass off. But I didn’t want to admit that this faceless Maria freaked me out a bit. Mostly because she was close to my boyfriend during a time I had been completely shut out and I wasn’t sure how to process that. If it had been a guy I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. But a girl…well let’s just say I knew how potent the Clay Reed effect was, having been a victim myself on a regular basis.

Clay’s eyebrows rose and it was obvious he saw straight through my fakeness. “Sure you are,” he deadpanned and I smirked.

“In the spirit of total honesty, I should probably tell you that Maria had a bit of…crush on me while we were in treatment.” Of course she did. She had been in treatment, not a coma.

“But she never acted on it and I made it very clear that I loved you and wasn’t interested. So there has never been anything but friendship between us,” he went on in a rush. I reached out and pulled his hand from his jeans pocket, lacing our fingers together.

“Chill out, Clay. I believe you. And while I had a momentary brush with the green eyed monster, I assure you I’m over it. Don’t stress yourself about it,” I assured him. Clay’s lopsided grin was breathtaking.

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?” he asked, pulling our joined hands to his lips and kissing the back of my hand.

“Not in at least five minutes. You’re slacking, Mr. Reed,” I joked. He kissed my hand again.

“I. Love. You,” he said, punctuating each word with a sloppy kiss to my skin. I giggled like a school girl and blushed. Yep, I was a pink, sparkly girl, alright. I just hoped I didn’t have to morph into a fist throwing, claw your eyes out girl around this Maria. Because I wouldn’t think twice about unleashing my inner She-Ra if she pissed me off.