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Claire sighed, looking at the red and blue lights in her rear view mirror. She just hoped it wasn’t him. That would just be the cherry on top of this goddamn train wreck sundae. Having to see Greg the first thing getting back to Whiskey Bend. She sent up a little prayer and could only hope as she watched the police officer get out of his car and walk towards her.

A leather glove tapped on her window, and she rolled it down about halfway, trying to keep at least some of the cold air out. It wasn’t even ten degrees outside, and the wind could bite.

“License and regi-” The officer paused. “Claire?”

She looked up, cursing both her bad luck and whoever was up there calling the shots. “Hey, Greg.”

Gregory James Hayworth looked like shit. A winter hat was pulled low over his brows, eyes streaked red and lips chapped to all hell as he hunched against the wind. He’d grown out his beard, too. The most she’d ever seen him with was some very light stubble. This, on the other hand, was much thicker, the hair dark and covering most of his lower face. She couldn’t help but admit that it looked good on him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he finally said. “Russell was a good man. I know how much he meant to you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, willing herself not to cry. Not in front of him. “I just wish . . .”

Tears clouded her vision, and she looked away, forcing herself not to cry. She flung her hand out and shoved her license and car registration into his gloved hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Here, that should be-”

He gave the papers back to her and bent down so he was eye-level with her. “Don’t apologize. Come on. I’ll follow you home.”

She gave a tremulous smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

She waited for him to get back into his car and turn off the lights before she got back onto the road and drove home. The snowflakes were fat and relentless as they hit her windshield and the roads were slippery, but she eventually made it, pulling up into her parents’ driveway. The living room light was on, and she thought she could hear Lady barking.

Greg was waiting as she got out of the car. She went to the trunk and pulled out her suitcases. He offered a hand, and she gave him one. They were both silent as they trekked through the snow to the front door. It reminded her of all the nights he had done just this. But they’d never carried in suitcases, and they’d always held hands, never able to keep their hands off each other.

Lady was on the other side of the glass, furiously wagging her tail, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. The chocolate lab all but pounced on Claire as she got through the door, and she laughed, bending down to hug her baby. More gray had begun cropping up on her muzzle and around her eyes. Claire was just glad that she hadn’t died, too.

“Hey, puppy,” she whispered, planting a kiss on Lady’s head. “I missed you.”

“Claire Bear!” Her mother smiled and wrapped her into a hug. “We were so worried about you. How was the drive?”

She just shrugged and held her. “It was just fine. Took awhile, though. I don’t think my windshield wipers work too well.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re back.”

Her dad came and hugged her next, kissing her on the top of her head. Her little brother Lincoln flipped her off and stuck his tongue out, but her little sister Bailey came over and hugged her. She and her baby sister had always been close. Claire stuck her tongue out at Lincoln, too. She never realized just how much she missed her family until she came back home.

“And you brought Greg with you!”

Greg smiled, bending down to hug her mom and then moving to shake her dad’s hand. Claire found it somewhat strange, but then again, her parents had always loved Greg. Hell, her whole family had always loved Greg. He’d come along on their family vacations, went to all of their Christmases and Thanksgivings, and had eaten dinner at their place more often than not.

“Hey, short stuff.” He tweaked Bailey’s nose, and she swatted his hand away.

“I’m about as tall as you.”

“No, you’re not. Lincoln’s taller than me, but you’re not.”

Lincoln finally came over then, pushed Claire’s shoulder as he went by until he was standing right next to Greg. Sure enough, Lincoln had a few inches on him. But Lincoln had always been tall and lanky, whereas Greg had been an average height and more broad. And he had certainly filled out since high school, which Claire hadn’t thought was possible.

He had always seemed so big to her, but then again, she had been pretty small herself. She took after her mom in that way.

“Are you hungry, Greg? Bailey and I made chocolate chip cookies all afternoon, and we have extra.” Her mother disappeared into the kitchen, not even waiting for an answer, before walking back and shoving a tin into his hand. Claire wasn’t surprised. Her mother had always doted on Greg like he was one of her own.

“Thank you, Joy. For you know . . . always feeding me,” he stammered, his cheeks turning red. It was something Claire had always found so cute and had teased him about it endlessly.

Greg looked at her then, and this time, Claire felt her face becoming warm. She could remember those eyes looking at her all throughout grade school and high school. He had been the boy who stared too long. The boy who blushed and mumbled whenever she talked to him. The boy who had stolen her heart the first time they had kissed.

But she just gave a small smile and turned back to grab both her suitcases. “I’m gonna go put these in my room.”

She left him there with her family. It was just two suitcases, and she couldn’t bring him back to her childhood bedroom. The door was already open; her mom hated having any doors or blinds closed. Something about the natural light. And in winter, you could never get enough natural light, she would always say.

She set the suitcases next to her old twin bed and dresser. The furniture was in the same spot it had been in since she was little. The only difference was that her mom had brought in another table and chair so that she could work on some of her projects. There were some plain mugs and paint markers there now.

Claire had to take off her coat and boots, he hands already feeling damp, and not just because of Greg. Her mom always kept the house at at least 70. It was something her dad grumbled about, but when Joy Andrews wanted something, Joy Andrews usually got it. Especially now. Her mother needed them more than ever.

Claire looked at her bed. It didn’t help that Greg was here, either. She could still hear him talking with her family, like they were old friends and he and Claire were still dating. He had always had this rich, baritone laugh. And the biggest grin, too. She’d loved making him laugh, teasing him about his big teeth. His smile.

During one of their phone calls, her grandpa had told her that Greg would stop by sometimes. Lincoln was twenty-one now, but he was going to college and still lived with their parents. Her younger brother had always looked up to Greg. Hell, Lincoln had been eight when she and Greg had started dating. And Bailey had only been four. It didn’t surprise her that her family had kept close, but this was the first time she’d been here when he was here. It was . . . too familiar.

Her grandpa had talked a lot about Greg over the years. And each time, it hurt her. But she never told him to stop telling her. She could have listened to her grandpa talk for hours. And if he wanted to talk about Greg, then she would listen to him talk about Greg. She wouldn’t take that away from him.

Claire felt tears begin to form again and closed her eyes, grinding her teeth to stop them. She’d cried enough over the past few days, and she refused to cry in front of him. She’d done that enough in her life.

Eventually, she made it out of her room, wrapping her cardigan more tightly around herself, despite the heat. She knew she looked a mess, but she didn’t really care. Greg was still there, standing in the doorway with the tin of cookies in his gloved hands. Her dad had turned off the TV, and they were discussing the Cowboys’ season.

Greg and her dad looked up as she walked back in and sat down next to Bailey.

“Well, I should probably get going. I gotta get back to work.” Greg rubbed the back of his neck, looking now at her parents. “It was very nice seeing you all.”

“And it was nice seeing you, too. You can always stop by, you know that.” Her mom hugged him again. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Drive safe.”

“I will.” He gave a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

The door closed behind him. They heard as he started up his police car and then drove away, the snow still falling heavily.

“Well, that was nice of him to stop by,” her mom said. “Did you ask him to drive you back?”

Claire shook her head and whistled for Lady to come. “No, he actually pulled me over.”

Bailey laughed. “What?”

“Yeah, I kinda . . . ran a red light.”

"Claire,” her mother scolded. “In this weather? You have to be more careful.”

“I know that. But it was just . . . ya know that one over on Broadway, where it has different arrows for when you need to make a left turn. Well, those were red, but the other ones were green, and nobody was coming, and I just wanted to get home and . . . yeah. He must have been parked at the Quick Stop or something. Didn’t give me a ticket, though.”

“Well, he should have.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “He should have.”

She followed her mom into the kitchen, grabbing two chocolate chip cookies and pouring herself a glass of milk. She hadn’t eaten since they handed out some peanuts on the flight, and that had been over three hours ago.

Her mom was busy setting up the desserts for tomorrow. There were brownies, marshmallow fudge, cookies, and shortcake. But that was what her mom did. She tried to take care of everybody and everything when she should be taking care of herself. Her own father had just died, and here she was, fussing over Greg and desserts.

“I’ll do that, Mom.” She took the little spatula from her mom’s hands and started cutting brownies. “Is there anything else we need to do?”

“We need to go set up pictures at the church and bring these to the kitchen.”

“Okay. Do we need to make picture boards?”

“Bailey already did that. We just have to carry them there and put them in the hall.”

She cut another line. “Are we leaving soon, then?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”