His jaw clenched and unclenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Don't play dumb. Sierra Hall told me that when everything went to shit, you started seeing some guy from a couple towns over. You two were close, and I figured she wouldn't lie about something like that."
"Sierra?" My mind raced, trying to bridge the gap between reality and the lie that had apparently dismantled my life. "Why would you even?—"
"After Michael's accident," he continued, his anger rising, "I wasn't there for you. Emotionally or anything else. I was a wreck, Grace. And I thought...I thought you needed someone who could be."
My heart pounded against my ribcage, each beat echoing the pain and confusion of past and present. "You believed her, just like that? Without even asking me?"
"Yeah, I did," he admitted, and there was a raw edge to his voice now. He pulled his gaze back to mine, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world. "I guess part of me wanted an out because I couldn't handle my own grief. It was easier to believe Sierra than to face what was happening between us."
"Clay..." the word was a whisper, barely audible above the soft sound of falling snow around us.
He ran a hand through his hair, his movements sharp with frustration. "I should have talked to you about it. Back then. But I didn't, and it's been eating at me ever since."
"Talked to me? You threw everything away on a damn rumor!" My voice was shaking, but whether from cold or emotion, I couldn't tell.
"Damn it, Grace, I know! Okay? I screwed up!" His voice broke the heavy silence that had settled around us.
We both fell silent, the weight of years and misunderstandings pressing down on us. The snow kept falling, oblivious to the human drama unfolding beneath the tree.
"Sierra, of all people." I scoffed, my breath forming clouds in the chilly air. "I never cheated on you. That's not me and you know it."
He looked away, his jaw tense. "I thought I knew a lot of things back then."
"It's like she flipped a switch after graduation," I said, ignoring the sting of betrayal that flared anew with every word. "Sierra just...cut me off. One day we were best friends and the next..."
"Next what?" His voice was softer now, curiosity lacing through the skepticism.
"Nothing. Radio silence. " I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them tight. "Saw her at the Christmas kickoff. You'd think we were strangers."
"Grace, I..." he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.
"Whatever," I muttered, shaking my head. "It's history now. Can't change it."
We both went silent, looking down at the town…and the lake. That lake looked so picturesque now, but it was where the worst tragedy of Clay’s life had happened.
His brother’s death.
"God, we were just kids," I whispered, hugging my knees tighter as the past loomed below us.
"Kids who thought they had forever," Clay murmured.
A shiver racked my body then, from more than just the cold. The warmth from the bustling inn seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the biting chill of the night air.
"Here." Before I could protest, Clay was shrugging off his coat and draping it over my shoulders. His fingers brushed my neck as he adjusted the heavy fabric around me, sending an involuntary shiver through my body that had nothing to do with the cold.
"Thanks," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The scent of his cologne enveloped me, a mix of pine and something undeniably Clay. It felt like him—like home—and for a moment, I was back in high school, wrapped up in the safety and warmth of our old dreams.
I felt my lips, numb and tingly, either a side effect of the spiked hot chocolate or the winter's kiss, and I brushed my fingers over them absently. His eyes followed the movement, dropping to my mouth.
My heart did a little hopscotch in my chest.
"I never forgot about you, Clay Hawthorne,” I murmured. “Not when every damn love song on the radio seemed to be about us. Not when I sat through those dreary college lectures wondering what if?—"
"Grace—" he cut in, but I plowed ahead, a dam breaking inside me after all these years.
"Let me finish. I always wondered, you know? What would our lives have been like if we'd gone off to Boston together like we planned?" My breath steamed in the frigid air, mingling with his as we sat there, wrapped up in memories and what-ifs.
"Would've been something," he managed, voice rough with emotions he was usually so good at hiding. But then, wasn't that our thing? Hiding how we really felt until it was too late?