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Old Jameson was surprisingly quiet as I talked, his eyes red, and for the first time, I actually felt sorry for him.

He may have been a stubborn old ass, but he didn’t deserve to lose his son.

My lie about Zach refusing to go along with Asha wasn’t planned.

It was a small mercy I gave him—the belief that his son saw the light in the end and wouldn’t have sold out his own people.

My pity vanished in an instant when he turned on Claire.

“You, outsider,” he said, pointing at her. “How can we know that you weren’t in on this? That you didn’t know that… harpy was going to kill my son?”

His voice trembled on the last word. Claire flinched as if he’d hit her.

“She has a name,” I shot back. “And Claire wouldn’t do that. She was the victim of Asha’s attacks.”

Jameson gave me a cold look. “I didn’t ask you, Madigan. We deserve answers. If she wants to stay, she can submit to questioning.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Claire’s hand landed on my arm.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly to me, before facing Jameson. “Ask your questions.”

For the next hour, he and several other members grilled Claire on what she knew and when, where she was during any given event, and where her loyalties lay.

Kimmy and I spoke up where we could to verify her answers, and to my surprise, so did a lot of others.

It was a mark of how much Claire had won them over that so many people came to her defence, including Nimkii, Jenna, Scott, and parents of her students.

To her credit, Claire didn’t waver during the questioning.

She gave short, clear answers, and she didn’t take any of their anti-outsider bullshit.

She told them how she’d grown to love the Valley and its people, and that she’d been as hurt by Asha’s betrayal as anyone.

She was just herself: soft, well-spoken, and genuine.

To my relief, as she talked, the temperature in the room slowly cooled.

People were scared, but not too afraid to listen to her.

“All I want,” Claire said, her voice quivering slightly for the first time, “is to marry the man I love and live in peace. I want to keep building on my work here, teaching your children and creating a better education system for all. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep proving my loyalty to all of you, every day. ”

She swiped at a single tear, and I squeezed her hand before she continued: “I think of you all like an extra-large, extended family now. I never had that before, and nothing would be worth losing it.”

There was a long silence. Looking around the room, most people looked sympathetic, even moved by her words. The quiet was broken by Abby Miller simply saying, “Thank you for your testimony, Claire. I’d like us to move onto how to deal with this security situation.”

I let out a long breath. She’d won them over, and all I could feel when I looked at her beautiful face was fierce pride. I put my arm around her and kissed the top of her head, and she gave me a token smile. Even Jameson seemed appeased…for now, anyway.

The rest of the meeting dealt with increasing security. The Order was an active threat, especially now that we knew they were in the area. The only thing that saved our asses was that they didn’t know about the Valley, and that they weren’t able to track Claire here.

We decided that nobody would be allowed to leave the Valley without getting permission. Scavvers had to sign in and out with Danny at the command center before coming or going. Outriders would pull double patrol shifts until further notice so that there were more of us on duty at a time.

It was necessary, but it meant that I went from patrolling four days a week to patrolling almost every day for up to twelve hours at a time, effective immediately.

For the next couple weeks, Claire and Kimmy had to pick up my slack around the farm, especially because it was planting season. I hated it, but it couldn’t be helped.

The real problem that ate away at me during that time, though, was that Claire was obviously not handling things well.

After the meeting, where she’d been so strong, she’d become lifeless.

She got up and worked the farm every day like she was on autopilot, then went to teach.

Kimmy told me she’d stopped eating enough.

The most obvious sign, though, was that her nightmares—which had slowly gone away after we reached the Valley—came back with a vengeance.

I was startled awake by her fist in my ribs, her hoarse scream splitting the night.

“Claire!” I tried to bear-hug her to stop her thrashing, but that instantly made her fight me.

“Let me go,” she sobbed, flopping like a fish.

“It’s me, baby!” I said firmly, and she suddenly went limp in my arms, panting and shaking. “It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a long silence, but she didn’t shed a tear when she was awake. She got quiet and detached again, and didn’t sleep a wink.

Every time I saw her, it was like someone had snuffed out her spark. She was so distant, and nothing seemed to reach her. Even our upcoming wedding didn’t seem important to her anymore. It scared the hell out of me.

Tears, I could handle. Anger, even. But not her freezing me out.

The thing was, I knew Claire; when she was hurt or afraid, she hid.

It was what she’d done when we first met.

It was why it took an attack that nearly killed her to tell me she loved me.

Back then, I’d tried to respect her need for space, not realizing it only made the problem worse.

I’d learned that while space may be what she wanted, it was almost never what she actually needed.

Three weeks after the attack on the Post, I called in a favour so I could have the day off.

Even besides my worry for her, I missed my girl.

The days on horseback were long and lonely, and I missed her voice, her laughter.

Sharing about our days and holding her until she fell asleep.

Going on rides with her. Making love to her.

She made my days better just by being in them.

It was another warm, sunny June day, though clouds threatened in the distance. After morning chores were done on the farm, it was nearly noon, and I asked Claire to come with me to Glacier Lake at the centre of the Valley for a picnic.

“It’s a date, then,” I said, pecking her lips. “Wear something that makes you feel pretty.”

She didn’t have much of a reaction to my request, but she at least got ready to leave and waited patiently on the porch for me to bring the truck around. She wore a pretty yellow gingham sundress that I’d never seen before, and she’d twisted her hair into a half-up style with a white ribbon.

“This new?” I asked, nodding at the dress.

She nodded a little shyly. “I asked Nimkii to make a few things for the summer. Traded her a few months of language lessons for her son.”

“Could’ve just taken a PNC from the safe if you wanted.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to do it. Do you like it?

“I love it,” I murmured, giving her a kiss before I led her to the truck.

Claire gave me a look of surprise at the canoe strapped to the truck bed.

“Where was that all this time?”

“In storage,” I replied with a small smile. “Granddad and I built it when I was a teenager. I use it to fish sometimes in the summer. Thought you might like to go out on the lake after lunch, since it’s a nice day.”

“Alright.” Her reaction was muted, lifeless, and that only made me more determined to shake her out of her numbness.

Claire was quiet as I drove. When we reached the small lake, we were lucky to have it to ourselves. I parked by the lakeside, then spread out the blanket while Claire unpacked the picnic basket. We sat and ate in near-silence. Her face was still closed off, and she picked at her food.

After lunch, we pushed the canoe into the water and climbed in.

The sun was warm, and Claire tipped her face up, which was the first time I’d seen her actively enjoy anything in a couple of weeks.

I paddled out to the middle of the lake, where the water was clear, and the view was best. More importantly, we were totally alone and wouldn’t be overheard.

That’d always been when she and I had talked the most back at the camp: out in the woods, where we might as well have been the last two people on Earth. She seemed to feel freer out in the wilderness—freer to speak her mind, to be herself.

I watched Claire carefully, but she didn’t glance in my direction. I got the feeling she was trying not to make eye contact.

“Claire,” I said cautiously, “we should talk.”

“Oh?” she answered, her voice flat and emotionless.

She stared out at the water, and despite promising myself I’d be patient with her, that fucking frustrated me. It was more of her avoidance bullshit, trying to shut me out. I took a deep breath.

“I know things have been…hard. Since the attack. Since Holly, and Asha.”

Claire’s face didn’t show any change, but her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

“I’m alright,” she said, in a way that sounded rehearsed—like something she’d repeated to herself more than once.

“You’re not.”

She finally looked at me, her whole body rigid. Her expression barely changed. She looked vaguely lost, like she’d somehow taken a wrong turn and couldn’t figure out how to get back.

“Cut the bullshit,” I said sharply. “Right now. Save us both some time, and talk to me , for fuck’s sake.”

I wasn’t angry with her. Not really. But I’d learned that when tragedy struck, Claire retreated into herself like a turtle into its shell. Sometimes, you had to poke at her to get her to come out again. Only then would she let you get close enough to help her.

“I have nothing to say,” Claire said, staring at the floor of the canoe. “Even if I did, what good would it do?”

“We’ll never know until you try,” I replied. “Look, princess, you don’t get to check out just because things have gotten hard.”