Clara stood outside Derek's house, her hands tucked into her sleeves, the morning fog curling around her legs like smoke. The walk over had been quiet, but her mind hadn't been. Josie's words had echoed over and over: "He wasn't thinking clearly… it was grief."
She hadn't realized how heavy her anger had been until she let go of it.
Now, all that was left was the ache.
She knocked softly.
Derek opened the door almost immediately, like he'd been standing on the other side waiting. His eyes widened when he saw her.
"Clara…"
"Hey," she said, voice quiet but steady.
"Hey," he echoed, his voice almost a question.
For a moment, they just looked at each other. The mist drifted between them, cool and quiet. Then Clara stepped inside.
"I'm sorry," she said, turning to face him. "For not listening. Josie told me everything."
Derek nodded slowly, like he wasn't sure if he was dreaming. "I didn't blame you. I just… didn't know how to explain it all."
"I get it now," she said, her voice catching just slightly. "About your dad. About what losing her did to him."
She hesitated, her throat tightening. "It's still hard to wrap my head around. That he loved my mom. That he did all of that because of her."
Derek looked down. "I know. If I were you, I'd probably still hate him."
"I don't hate him," Clara said softly. "I hate what happened. I miss her every day, and knowing someone else out there… cared that much? It doesn't make it better, but… it makes it different."
Derek lifted his eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry, Clara. I really am."
"I know," she said. "And I believe you now."
From deeper in the house, a familiar voice called out, "Should I bring snacks, or are we still doing the dramatic forgiveness scene?"
Clara turned with a small laugh. "Hi, Josie."
Josie poked her head into the hallway, a wide grin on her face. "Welcome back to the chaos."
She stepped aside, revealing a small boy peeking around her legs. He had dark, curly hair, wary eyes, and a backpack that looked way too big for his shoulders.
"And this," Josie said, "is Leo—Derek's stepbrother and current tornado."
Clara crouched down to his level. "Hey, Leo. I'm Clara."
He looked at her suspiciously. "Are you another adult?"
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Nope. Just… a professional teenager."
He squinted. "That's not a real job."
"Neither is dragon trainer," Josie whispered, "but don't tell him that."
Leo looked between the two of them, then muttered, "You smell like trees."
Clara blinked. "That's… very specific."
"I like trees," he said, sitting on the floor with a dramatic sigh. "And wolves. And big, scary things that don't eat me."
"Cool," Clara said, sitting beside him. "I like dragons. Especially ones with gold scales."
Leo lit up. "Gold dragons are rare. You have to find them in caves guarded by riddles!"
Josie laughed. "Well, looks like you've found your people, Leo."
Derek watched them from the hallway, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth. Clara glanced back at him and smiled too—a real one, not forced or sad. Just… real.
Leo looked at her again and tilted his head. "You look like someone who cried a lot but got stronger."
Clara blinked. "That's… not wrong."
He shrugged. "You have warrior eyes."
Josie looked over. "Okay, that's either incredibly deep or something he picked up from a cartoon."
Leo stood up dramatically. "I'm going to draw a cave dragon now."
He marched down the hall with purpose, humming to himself. Josie followed him, calling over her shoulder, "I'll keep him busy while you two have your moment."
Now alone in the room, Clara and Derek sat beside each other on the couch. The silence between them was no longer sharp—it was soft, like the mist outside, like a shared memory.
"You know," Clara said after a pause, "I think Mom would've liked you."
Derek turned his head. "Yeah?"
"She had good instincts," Clara replied. "And a terrible sense of humor."
He laughed quietly. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."
They sat in peaceful quiet for a while, until the sound of crayons scribbling and Leo's humming drifted in from the next room.
"I should probably help Josie before he draws on the walls," Clara said, standing.
Derek stood too. "Thanks for coming. Really."
She reached out and touched his hand briefly. "Thanks for waiting"