Light in the Shadows (Find You in the Dark #2)(64)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

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.