The Frayed Ends of Sanity

by Paperbckdreamz

Summary:

Clover Wallace is eighteen years old when she leaves behind the familiar mountains of Colorado for the quiet, eerie streets of Hawkins. She moves with her father—once a respected teacher, now a disgraced man struggling with the weight of his own demons. He’s promised Clover he’ll stop drinking, get his act together, and be the father she deserves. It’s not the first time he’s made that promise.
For most of her life, Clover has lived in the shadow of his abuse—both emotional and physical. Isolated and manipulated into silence, she’s learned not to trust easily, to keep her head down, and to avoid forming close relationships. For the first time, she’ll get to know her aunt, Claudia, and her cousin Dustin, relatives she’s never met but longs to connect with.
Starting senior year as the new girl in a small town isn’t easy, but Clover is determined. She’s ready to figure out who she is outside of her father’s control. She wants real friendships, a life of her own—and maybe even love. There’s a certain local metalhead who catches her eye, and for once, she feels like maybe, just maybe, she deserves something good.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary:

Clover is feeling anxious but hopefully for her new beginning.

Clover rolled down the window, letting the sun warm her face as the Colorado mountainscape got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. She’d lived in Colorado her entire life, and while it wasn't always easy, she knew she'd miss it.
She glanced at her father, who was in an unusually good mood. Clover truly hoped he meant what he said about turning over a new leaf. After the disaster at Maple Creek High last September, she hadn't known what would become of them.

The school board had fired him and blacklisted him from any future teaching jobs. The student had pulled a stupid prank, likely expecting nothing more than detention, not a broken nose and a concussion. Clover knew from experience not to provoke him; when he saw red, his violence was unstoppable. He usually kept his temper in check in public. No one knew his quiet, guarded daughter was that way because of what happened behind closed doors. But this time, something had snapped. Though the details weren't made public, student whispers had ensured everyone in town knew the gist of it. So, no more Colorado for them. He couldn't risk any more "dirty little secrets" getting out, and his reputation meant he'd never find work there again.

Now, here they were, all their belongings crammed into her father's old truck, heading for Indiana. Honestly, Clover was looking forward to a fresh start—a place where no one knew her father's reputation or gave her nasty looks. She'd never had many friends anyway; a side effect of dealing with her father's constant hot-and-cold behavior.

She knew little about Hawkins, just bits and pieces her father had mentioned. But she did know her Aunt Claudia lived there with her son, Dustin. He was a bit younger, and Clover had never met any of her relatives outside of her parents. It would be nice to know at least two people when she arrived.

Switching schools for her senior year wasn't ideal, but there was truly nothing left for her in Colorado. Besides, she'd always operated in survival mode. She never knew when her dad would have an outburst. Things had been better lately, ever since he'd stopped his heavy drinking—it always got worse when he was drunk. She never knew what to expect. She tried her best to be the daughter he wanted, but sometimes she had no idea how to meet his standards. After everything with her mom two years ago, it had only gotten worse. Not having that buffer was incredibly hard, he could be a loose cannon.

This year, she was determined to make the best of the situation. He'd promised he'd try harder, and being closer to family, she hoped they could reign him in when things got tough. She knew it wasn't the healthiest solution, but with his sister and nephew around, maybe it would bring out his fatherly side.
At her last school, she didn't have many close friends either. She knew people, but was never really close to anyone. She usually had her head in a book or listening to the latest release from her favorite record store. The less time she spent at home, the better. This led her to explore many walking trails. Her favorite thing was to sneak out after her father fell asleep, light a cigarette, and just walk. It was peaceful.

"Clo," her father's voice broke through her thoughts, "I think this will be a good change for us."
She refocused, hearing him continue, "We get a clean break from Colorado and can move on to better things."
Clover offered a shy smile. She wanted to believe him, but she knew how quickly he could change. She could still feel the bruised ribs from just this past weekend when she'd said the wrong thing. But for now, she was going to try to stay positive.

Notes:

Thanks for being here ! I'm so excited to tell you Clover's story.

Chapter 2: Welcome to...

Summary:

Another chapter coming your way. Clover makes it to Hawkins and explores a bit she also meets a local ;)

Clover must have dozed off at some point because the landscape had begun to shift. The sprawling farmlands and dense forests gave way to more developed scenery, heralded by a simple, weathered wooden sign with faded paint displaying "Welcome to Hawkins" in bolded lettering. Scattered, modest homes appeared, set back from the road with neatly kept lawns, some even boasting swingsets and rusty bicycles in their yards.

As they entered the main part of town, the pace slowed considerably. They drove along two-lane roads, cracked and patched, past predominantly single-story brick or clapboard structures, many of which looked like they’d been there for decades. The cars on the road were a mix of boxy sedans, station wagons, and trucks, perfectly matching the classic, slightly worn aesthetic of the town.

Main Street offered a glimpse into the heart of Hawkins. Clover's eyes picked out several establishments: Melvald's General Store, Family Video, The Palace Arcade, and the Hawkins Post. She also spotted a small record store, its windows filled with album covers. Further out, they passed Hawkins High School, a large brick building. Other local spots dotted the landscape, adding to the town’s charm. There was also a small, independent pharmacy with a distinctive, glowing green cross in the window, a local hardware store displaying tools and gardening supplies, and what looked like a beauty parlor or barbershop. A church with a modest steeple also stood. The overall feeling of Hawkins was one of quiet normalcy, almost idyllic in its simplicity.

People waved as they drove by, or gathered in small groups outside shops, chatting. There was a strong sense of community, of everyone knowing everyone else, which could feel both comforting and, at times, a little suffocating. Coming from a world, or at least a life, that was more fast-paced and anonymous, the pervasive small-town charm felt… intense. The way people waved, the small groups chatting outside shops as if everyone knew everyone's business – it was a level of community that bordered on overwhelming. There was an unspoken expectation, a gentle pressure to conform to this quiet normalcy, that prickled at her. The pervasive, almost suffocating, sense of community in Hawkins immediately presented a chilling new problem for Clover: privacy. Or rather, the complete lack thereof. In a town where everyone knew everyone, where chatter at the general store or the beauty parlor could dissect a person's life with unnerving speed, the idea of keeping anything hidden felt impossible.

It all felt particularly terrifying when it came to her father. His promises to "try" and change his physically and emotionally abusive patterns echoed hollowly in her ears, thin whispers against the backdrop of this watchful town. Back in Colorado, in a larger, more anonymous place, there had been at least the illusion of control, the ability to disappear into the crowd when things got bad, to keep the dark secrets locked behind closed doors. Here, however, every raised voice, every slammed door, every flinch on Clover's part felt like it would resonate through the thin walls of their new home and out into the perfectly manicured lawns, becoming fodder for quiet whispers and knowing glances at Melvald's General Store.

The pressure to maintain a facade of "normalcy" in Hawkins would be immense. How could she possibly navigate her father's volatile moods – the sudden rages, the cutting words, the chilling quiet that often preceded something worse – when every neighbor might be peeking through their curtains, every shopkeeper might be observing their interactions? The thought of his unpredictable temper erupting in this fishbowl, of their private agony becoming public spectacle, filled her with a profound dread. She wasn't sure he could change, and she was even less sure she could hide the truth from the ever-present, watchful eyes of Hawkins, making her already precarious situation feel infinitely more exposed and dangerous.

Yet, amidst the swirling unease, a stubborn little voice persisted. She had promised herself she would stay positive, that she would see this as a new opportunity. It was a mantra she'd repeated countless times on the journey, a shield against the rising tide of fear. This wasn't just a relocation; it was a chance to finally have a fresh start, away from the constant reminders of their old life, away from the eyes that already knew too much. Here, no one knew their history. No one knew the silent battles fought behind closed doors, or the careful ways she'd learned to move to avoid setting him off.

The challenge now was to actually embrace that promise, to push past the gnawing dread that the quaintness of Hawkins would only magnify her vulnerability. She had to try. She had to believe, even if just a little, that this change, despite its terrifying unknowns, could still lead to something better. It was the only way to keep from drowning in the anxiety that threatened to consume her. And then there was Aunt Claudia. The thought of finally getting to know her, and her cousin Dustin, was the strongest anchor to that elusive "new opportunity." It would be different here. Her father wouldn't just have her; he'd have family. People who, she hoped, could offer him a different kind of support, a new dynamic. Maybe, just maybe, with Aunt Claudia and Dustin around, he'd have other people to talk to, to work through whatever demons haunted him. Perhaps their presence would diffuse some of the tension that always seemed to hover around him, giving him other outlets for his frustrations instead of always, inevitably, taking it out on her.

The sheer exhaustion of being his sole emotional punching bag, his only confidante, weighed heavily on Clover. The idea of sharing that burden, even unknowingly, with others, offered a fragile sliver of hope. It was a desperate wish, a faint light in the anxious gloom, that here in Hawkins, with more people around, her father might finally find a way to heal, and she might finally find a moment to breathe freely. Her contemplation dissolved as the cars speed decreased , they passed a sign titled “Forest Hills Trailer Park”. They drove down a ways past many other mobile homes. They slowed and pulled into a lot that was further back and closer to the back of the park toward the woods. A sense of weary relief washed over Clover. This was it. The place where the "new opportunity" would either take root or wither. The anxiety was still a tight coil in her stomach, a constant reminder of the tightrope she was walking. But looked closer at the trailer. It was nothing spectacular but it looked cozy and for the most part inviting. She clung to the hope of Aunt Claudia and Dustin, and of other people to deflect the storm that was her father. Perhaps, in this sleepy, watchful town, the very lack of privacy that freaked her out might also force a kind of accountability. Maybe, just maybe, here, he would actually try. And maybe, just maybe, she could finally find a moment of peace.

The trailer stood as a silent promise, or perhaps a silent dare, to a new, uncertain chapter. Her father turned to her, a strained, almost fragile smile on his face. "Well, Clover-bug," he said, his voice surprisingly soft, "this is it. Home sweet home." He gestured vaguely towards the lot. "Let's get the rest of these bags in, get settled. We should probably clean up a bit too. Your Aunt Claudia wants us over for dinner around six." Clover glanced at her watch. Four o'clock. Two hours. It was enough time. Enough time to unpack the few remaining boxes they'd brought, to try and inject some semblance of order into the unfamiliar space. And then, perhaps, if she was quick, she could steal a few moments for herself. Thinking of the wooded area toward the back. The thought of stepping into their quiet, concealing embrace, even for a short walk, offered a tiny spark of relief. A chance to breathe before the enforced cheer of family dinner. “Sure, that sounds good, do we need to grab anything to bring over to Aunt Claudia’s on the way?” She says. Her father sighs and seems annoyed she tries not to flinch. “No I don’t believe so she should be all set.” She takes that as her queue to get out of the car and grab her big bag from the back of the truck. They didn’t have to bring a ton of stuff on this trip; they had shipped the majority of everything the previous week before they arrived. “Ok well I’m going to get started on organizing some of my things and clean up before dinner.” She said, he looks at her and then offers a small smile. He claps her on the back “Sounds good Kid.” She doesn’t trust it but tries her best to not react and smiles back. Clover pushed open the front door, stepping into the small trailer.

The air inside was still and carried the faint, mingled scents of dust and old wood. The living space was simple: a compact living room flowed into a small dining area, and then a kitchen. Everything was clean, but undeniably worn—a testament to years of quiet living. The furniture, a mismatched collection of upholstered pieces and dark wood, seemed to settle heavily into the worn carpet. It felt… contained. Every sound, every movement, would echo in this space. With a deep breath, Clover moved towards the hallway past the kitchen. There was a small bathroom and two bedrooms. She bypassed the first, knowing instinctively it would be her father's. The second door, slightly ajar, revealed a smaller room, likely hers. Inside, her few belongings were already waiting. A handful of cardboard boxes, taped shut and marked with her handwriting, stood stacked neatly against one wall. Each was labeled simply: "Clover - Clothes," "Clover - Books," "Clover - Misc." Seeing them offered a fleeting sense of comfort amidst the quiet apprehension of her new home.

Clover eyed her labeled boxes, the familiar scrawl a small comfort in the unfamiliar room. She knelt, her gaze scanning for the "Clothes" box. Tearing open the tape, she rummaged past t-shirts and worn denim until her fingers brushed against the soft, sturdy fabric of her nicest dark wash jeans. She pulled them out, followed by a dark green knit sweater that felt warm and reassuring. Quickly changing, she smoothed the soft wool down, feeling a faint shift in her mood. From the duffel bag she’d carried in, she pulled out a small, intricately carved jewelry box. Flipping open the lid, her eyes landed on a gold locket. She picked it up, tracing the familiar etchings with her thumb. A faint, bittersweet smile touched her lips, quickly followed by a shadow of sadness. It was a cherished piece, holding a memory both fond and painful. With a soft click, she fastened it around her neck.

Finally, she dragged one of the smaller boxes over to the edge of the bed and sat on it. Digging through a jumble of trinkets and personal effects, her fingers finally closed around the smooth, cool plastic of her walkman. It was a small victory, a piece of her old world to ground her in this new, uncertain one. Her search continued, rummaging until her fingers hit the familiar plastic edge of her cassette bin. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. This, more than any jeans or locket, felt like a true piece of home. She pulled out the bin, flipping through the worn spines, each title a memory, a mood. Her gaze landed on it: Black Sabbath's Heaven and Hell. A wave of defiant satisfaction washed over her. This album, with Ronnie James Dio's powerful vocals and Tony Iommi's iconic riffs, had been a constant companion through countless turbulent evenings. With a practiced motion, she slotted the cassette into her player. The satisfying clunk as the door shut, the soft whir as the tape began to spool, were familiar comforts. She reached for her headphones, pulling them over her ears, and the outside world, with its new house and lingering anxieties about her father, began to recede. The opening notes of "Neon Knights" surged, cutting through the silence of the small room, raw and powerful. With each riff, each powerful drumbeat, she felt the silence of the small room, and the anxieties of her new home, recede. For a precious while, it wasn't about the quiet, watchful town, or the precarious peace with her father. It was just her, lost in the raw, powerful sound of Dio's voice. This music, loud and hers, was a defiant whisper of control in a world that felt increasingly out of it, a tiny, perfect rebellion in the strange, suffocating normalcy of Hawkins. After the last powerful chord faded from her headphones, Clover reluctantly pulled them off, the sudden quiet of the house a stark contrast to the sonic world she'd just inhabited. Her earlier anxiety about the quaintness of Hawkins, and the ever-present specter of her father's temper, returned with a jolt. Still, the thought of those woods behind the trailer beckoned, a quiet promise of escape. She made her way downstairs, her footsteps light on the creaking steps.

She found her father in the living room, already looking settled, though a tense energy seemed to radiate from him. Taking a deep breath, Clover finally spoke, her voice a little softer than she intended. "Father? Would it be okay if I went out for about half an hour? Just to, um, explore the backyard a bit and look at the woods out back?" For a moment, the air in the room thickened. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing, and a familiar flicker of anger ignited in their depths. His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched, knuckles whitening. Clover braced herself, heart pounding, for the inevitable explosion, the usual dismissive roar that would strip away any hope of a peaceful evening. But then, almost imperceptibly, he seemed to pull himself back, a visible struggle playing out across his features. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his gaze, though still sharp, lost its dangerous edge. "Fine," he said, his voice clipped but surprisingly calm. "But if you're not back here by five-thirty sharp, we're gonna have problems, Clover. You understand?" Clover nodded quickly, relief washing over her, cold and immediate. "Yes, father. Five-thirty."

She didn't wait for another word, turning swiftly towards the back door, eager to put distance between herself and the fragile calm she'd just witnessed. The woods suddenly felt less like an escape and more like a necessary sanctuary. The dense canopy of trees quickly swallowed Clover as she ventured into the woods, the muffled sounds of the house fading with each step. The air grew cooler here, smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves, a welcome contrast to the stale air indoors. Ten minutes of walking, her boots crunching softly on the forest floor, brought her to a subtle bend in the path. Following her intuition, she took a right. There was another manmade path a little ways up. She took that and walks a little ways seeing a clearing. There is a rusted out truck and some makeshift logs that look to be used as seats. Otherwise it’s a pretty private clearing with overgrown wildflowers and weeds and such. It put a smile on her face.

The small clearing felt like a secret, a natural boundary between her and… whatever lay beyond. She settled onto one of the rough log seats, the wood cool beneath her. A few minutes later, her fingers instinctively slipped into her jacket pocket. There, hidden from her father's disapproving gaze, were her cigarettes and a trusty lighter. She pulled one out, the white stick a familiar comfort, and flicked the lighter. The small flame danced, then caught the tip, and she inhaled deeply. The rough, smoky taste filled her lungs, and as she exhaled slowly, watching the plume dissipate into the cool air, she felt the tight knot of anxiety in her stomach loosen, just a fraction.

The chill breeze of the fall evening caressed her face, a welcome sensation that grounded her in the present moment. She was halfway through the cigarette, enjoying the quiet solitude, when a rustling noise came from the trailer park side of the clearing. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she peered through the small path she had taken earlier. Emerging from the path, just a few yards away, was a boy, who looked to be close to her own age. The boy had stopped at the edge of the clearing, his eyes, dark brown like his long, wavy hair that fell past his shoulders, taking her in. His appearance was strikingly different from the clean-cut normalcy Clover had observed so far in Hawkins. He wore a denim vest adorned with a collection of patches, some of them from bands Clover recognized, others she wasn't sure of, but all hinting at a world beyond mainstream. Beneath the vest, she caught glimpses of a leather jacket and, an Iron Maiden shirt. His entire look screamed nonconformist, a stark contrast to the quiet, almost suffocating uniformity she’d just been contemplating in town. The boy's surprise was evident. His eyes widened slightly, obviously he hadn’t been expecting anyone.

"Hey, there " he offered, his voice a low rumble. He offered a kind smile to her. Clover quickly got to her feet, stubbing out her cigarette against the log. “Hello , sorry if this is your spot I don’t mean to intrude”, she said quickly. He held his hands up, a gesture of surrender and reassurance."Whoa, whoa, hey, you don't need to leave," he said. "I was just surprised when I saw someone here, that's all. Didn't mean to scare you. Clover looked up at him, still startled, her surprise giving way to a more familiar, uncomfortable knot in her stomach. His easy smile, his immediate apology, none of it quite reached past the ingrained tension that lived beneath her skin. This kind of genuine concern, offered so freely by a stranger, was unfamiliar, almost alarming. She felt a little scared, not of him, but of the raw vulnerability his unexpected kindness had just exposed. It was an unfortunate, involuntary reflex, a shadow from a life spent walking on eggshells with her father.

Her silence stretched, making her feel even more transparent, more exposed. The boy's brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he took in her rigid stance. "Hey," he repeated, his voice softer now, truly gentle. "Are you okay?” Clover forced herself to surface from the murky depths of her own head. The boy’s genuine concern was a strange, disorienting sensation she wasn't quite sure how to process. "Yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice still a little thin, feeling the blush creep up her neck. "I just... wasn't expecting to see anyone out here, you know?" She gestured vaguely around the quiet clearing. "I, uh, don't really know anyone here yet. I quite literally just got here less than an hour ago ."

The last part was a quiet mumble, more to herself than him, a small, self-deprecating confession of her naivety. He chuckled, a low, easy sound that actually managed to cut through some of her tension. "Hey, no worries," he said, stepping a little further into the clearing, but keeping a comfortable distance, like he sensed her need for space. A small, knowing smile played on his lips. "I just come out here to smoke and contemplate. Which," he added, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at the smoldering stub in her fingers, "we obviously have in common.” 

Yeah, guess we do,” Clover replied, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her apprehension. The easy camaraderie, however unexpected, was a welcome reprieve. “I’m Clover, by the way,” she offered, extending a hand, feeling a surprising lightness in her chest.

The boy grinned, taking her hand in a firm, warm clasp. “Eddie. Eddie Munson.” She stills a little his grip was confident, his gaze direct, and for the first time since arriving in Hawkins, Clover felt a flicker of something akin to ease. He wears a number of rings on his fingers , the metal cold against her skin. “So, Clover," he mused, releasing her hand, “what brings you to my humble, woodland contemplation spot?” He gestured around the clearing with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Clover laughed softly , a sound she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back. “Just moved here, actually. My father and I just moved into the park.” She gestured vaguely back towards where she’d come from. “Needed a minute away from… well, everything.” She didn’t elaborate, but the unspoken weight of her words hung in the air between them.

Eddie’s smile softened, a knowing look replacing the earlier humor. “Ah, the great escape. I know that feeling.” He leaned back against one of the rough-hewn logs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering one to her. “Small towns have a way of making you feel like you’re constantly on display, don’t they?”

Clover nodded, accepting the cigarette. "It’s like everyone’s watching, all the time. Back in Colorado, I felt like I could just …disappear.” He offered her his lighter and she lit her cigarette, the familiar taste a comfort. “Here, I feel a bit claustrophobia about well everything so far.”

Eddie laughed, a full, hearty sound. “Tell me about it.” He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Well, welcome to suburban hell.”

She laughs at that , “Hopefully it’s no worse than Colorado.” She says. He laughs “well I personally haven’t been to Colorado but I’m guessing this shit hole is a lot smaller and probably doesn’t have as much entertainment wise as your old town did.”

“Well maybe so but I didn’t go out much when I lived there anyway, I move around a lot so I was only in Colorado for like four years before this” she says with a sad smile.

He looks at her frowning a little , “well I’m just telling you now there really isn’t much.”

”Well like I said I mostly keep to myself anyway, I usually am just reading , or listening to music. I noticed a record store on my way in.” She says.

“O yeah that store doesn’t actually suck. What kind of music are you into ?” He asks.

”O it depends lately I’ve been really into Heaven and Hell , I know that’s a little older now , but also have “Sacred Heart” on repeat. I’ve been on a Dio kick lately since the move” She says shyly.

“Well in that case it’s great to meet someone with good music taste,” Eddie said, pushing off the log turning around and showing her his back , there is a big Dio patch on the back that looks like it was hand-sewn on from a t-shirt.

She smiles saying “well it looks like I’m in good company.”

Clover's eyes darted to her watch, a gasp escaping her lips. "Shit, I really have to go!" she exclaimed, already turning. A wave of regret washed over her; she hadn't realized how much she'd enjoyed this unexpected encounter. "It was really nice to meet you, Eddie," she said, her voice a little softer than before, hoping he sensed her sincerity. "Maybe I'll see you at school on Monday."

"Maybe you will," he laughed, a genuine, easy sound that followed her as she hurried back toward the subtle path , she felt a new, lighter feeling blossoming in her chest.

Notes:

Thanks for being here , I am having so much fun exploring this dynamic. Are you guys enjoying this? Can't wait for you to see where this goes.
Much ❤️ love

Chapter 3: Dinner at the Henderson's

Summary:

Clover talks about her past a little bit. We go to the Henderson's and she meets her aunt and cousin. Maybe things are finally looking up for her?

Clover's steps dragged as she approached the back door, her stomach churning with dread. "Please, please, let him be in a good mood," she whispered, a desperate, silent plea. Her father had promised things would be different in Hawkins, that he would do better. But with every harsh word, every tightening of his jaw, the cracks in that promise were already starting to show. Guilt gnawed at her for being late, though in fairness, she hadn't expected to meet someone in the woods. At least now she'd know one person at school on Monday. The thought offered a brief flicker of warmth, quickly extinguished by the cold certainty of what awaited her.

She opened the back door and stepped into the all-seasons room, shutting the door as quietly as she could. When she turned around, her father was leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe, a beer in his hand. "Have a good walk?" he asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Yes," she replied in a small voice, "it's really peaceful back there. I'm sorry I lost track of time." He sighed clicking his tongue "Clover, how many times do I have to tell you before it sinks in that you need to keep a better track of time?" He walked toward her and squeezed her shoulder hard. "Now, I know you wouldn't want to disappoint your aunt and cousin, so why do you insist on giving me reasons to punish you? You know I take no enjoyment from having to do that."

Clover tried to keep calm. "I'm sorry, Father, you're right. I do need to be better."
"Well, I guess this one time I can let you off with a warning." His grip tightened, and she flinched a little; no doubt there would be fingerprint-shaped bruises there tomorrow. "Go clean up before we have to leave." He pulled her to him and placed a faint kiss on her forehead. She shuddered as the leather of his belt brushed her stomach.

"Yes, okay, I'll go do that, Father." He let her go and pushed her toward the stairs. Clover quickly down the hall and entered the bathroom, bracing her hands on the sink, letting a few tears fall. Her life felt like a nightmare she couldn't escape, and it had been like this for a long time. Before her mother left, she supposed they were happy at one point, though she didn’t have many memories of it. She had begged her mother to take her away, but she was told to be strong and that her mother needed to figure things out before she could come for her. That was several years ago. Her mother would still write, but there was never any indication of when she would see her. She wasn’t hopeful. She understood, in a sick way, why her mother had left. She met some guy at a bar who apparently loved her and wanted to take her away from this unhappy marriage. He was probably better than her father. But how could her mother leave her? Didn’t she care?

Though Robert was the only father she had known, he wasn't her biological father. Her bio dad had run out on them before she was born, then apparently several years later he was in a hit-and-run but didn’t make it. That's what she found out, at least, when she decided to look into it because no one would give her a straight answer. He called her his daughter, though, and got angry if anyone even tried to imply that she wasn't his. She wasn’t sure if this was due to love or due to him feeling like he owned her. He told her he loved her, and honestly, she did believe him. For all the hurt he had caused, she still felt that he had been the only constant in her life. She hated when he drank. That's when he really got nasty and did horrible things. But she didn’t want to think about those nights right now, or she would lose it. She choked back a sob and wiped her eyes. She took a brush and fixed her hair, which fell in loose waves at her shoulders. "Good enough, I suppose," she said to herself. She walked back down the hall and met her father at the front door.

"Okay, I'm ready to go, Father," she said. He handed her the thick green corduroy coat that hung by the door. "Let's go before you run off. I’ve had the truck started for 10 minutes." To most people, that would have sounded like a light-hearted joke, but she knew it was a warning from him that she should watch herself.

The drive was quiet. She listened to the hum of the radio, not even paying attention to what was playing. This town was small; it was about a ten minute drive from the park. As they approached the house, it looked quaint and inviting, filling her with warmth. Before they could knock, Claudia was at the door, greeting them. She pulled her father into a hug, then turned to Clover. "Honey, I have heard so much about you. I can't believe it's taken all these years for us to finally meet in person." She turned to her father, "Robert, shame on you for not getting here for a visit sooner! Look at her, she is beautiful." He observed her. "Yes, she is, isn't she?" he said, looking her up and down and smiling. Clover visibly stilled but recovered. "It's so nice to finally meet you in person, Aunt Claudia," she said.
"Please, sweetie, just Claudia," she said, ushering them into the house.

It was Claudia who radiated this warmth; Clover felt the same calmness settle over her when they entered the house. It was so nice to be somewhere she felt safe and secure. Before she could look around more, a boy a couple of years younger than her dashed into the room. He had a mop of brown curls and looked very kind. "Hey, I'm Dustin! It's so nice to finally meet you," he said. She noticed he had a slight lisp, but it honestly added to his overall cute demeanor. "It's really great to meet you, Clover. I've heard so much about you," he said, smiling at her.

Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her hand. "Let me show you around," he said. She looked back and saw Claudia laughing a little, but her father's face remained the same, and he didn't try to stop her. Dustin led her around and showed her the sitting room, the dining room, the bathroom, the kitchen, his mom's room, and then his room, where he stopped and had them enter. "This is my room," he said proudly. Clover looked around; he had posters of different planets, several books on scientific subjects, some miscellaneous comic books, several Dungeons and Dragons related playbooks, and a computer, among other things. "Nice, you play D&D?" she asked.
"Hell yeah, I do! I'm actually in a D&D club called Hellfire. My friend Eddie is the DM," he said. "What about you, do you play?" he asked curiously. She wondered if this Eddie could be the same one she met earlier. But maybe this was someone more Dustin's age who he was referring to.

"Oh, no, not me, but there was a D&D club back at my old school. It looked like a lot of fun. I'm a big fan of fantasy, so it always seemed cool—just being able to transport yourself to this other world and escape life, if only for a couple of hours."
He was quiet for a couple of minutes, and she felt like she had said too much. "Yes, I totally get what you are saying! That is one of the reasons I love it so much!" he said. She beamed at him; it was so easy to talk to Dustin, and Claudia too. She was starting to feel a little more hopeful about being here.

"Kids, we are ready for dinner!" called Claudia. She and Dustin headed toward the dining room. Her father was already there, looking stern, nursing a glass of whiskey. She grimaced at that but adjusted, looking around at the table. There she spotted a tossed salad, homemade dressing, fresh rolls, glazed carrots, several pork chops, and mashed potatoes. It all smelled heavenly.

She wouldn't say that her father neglected feeding her exactly. However, a lot of times he expected her to figure out the grocery situation, but since she had no money of her own, many times he forgot. Then it became a problem that was somehow her fault. Perhaps here she could convince him to give her an allowance. Oftentimes it would sour his attitude when she asked questions such as this.

"Dig in! I also have strawberry shortcake for dessert," said Claudia enthusiastically. Clover certainly indulged, not being sure where and how good her next meal would be. She caught her father's eye and saw that he was watching her closely. He would never outwardly judge her appearance in front of Claudia, but she was no stranger to ugly words thrown at her in private concerning her body.

As they ate, they made idle chatter. Claudia inquired about her father's job in Colorado and wondered why the change. It was pretty obvious she didn't know the circumstances regarding why they left. He just told her he wanted a change and that the money he would be making at the plant was more sufficient. Claudia asked Clover about herself. It was strange to her; she was not used to people asking her about her. But she told Claudia how she enjoyed reading and music and how she was a somewhat amateur artist, usually choosing to paint and sketch while also being into photography. Claudia mentioned that the high school had a darkroom, and she smiled at that.

After they had coffee and some strawberry shortcake, her father said they needed to get going. It was Sunday, and tomorrow was her first day at school and his first day at the plant. She thanked Claudia, who pulled her into a hug; it was so warm and she felt so safe she was sad when it ended. Dustin told her he'd find her at school tomorrow to make sure she didn't get lost. She smiled at that. Her father helped her put on her jacket, then grasped her around the shoulder, waved to Claudia, and led her to the truck.
On the way home, she found herself feeling truly content for the first time in a long time. Her father also seemed to be in a good mood. She knew it probably wouldn't always be like this, but for now, she'd take it.

Notes:

Clover is finally starting to feel like this place could be good for her. What are we thinking so far, will she make friends and find her place?

Thanks for tuning in ! I plan to try to get at least a couple updates a week in going forward.

I know this chapter was a little shorter . Next up is her first day at Hawkins high .

❤️

Chapter 4: You’re in a Dungeons and Dragons club right ?

Summary:

Clover’s first day at school. She sees some familiar faces and also meets some new people.
Is this new place actually going to be good for her?

Clover awoke around six-thirty, the morning light streaming through her small window. She'd been having a vivid dream—or rather, a memory. After getting up, she headed to the bathroom and started the shower. The warm water felt nice on her damaged skin, a few bruises remaining from previous encounters and from when her father grabbed her a little too hard last night . Once she finished, she stepped out, shut the water off, and wiped the condensation from the mirror. She peered at her reflection; she looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes.
Taking out her small makeup bag, she quickly applied some concealer, mascara, and a clear gloss. She surveyed her reflection. "That’s probably as good as it’s going to get."
Entering her room, she looked through a box labeled “fall clothes.” She grabbed a worn pair of jeans, a plain green shirt, and a black cardigan. After slipping on her socks and combat boots, she was ready to go.
She headed toward the kitchen. Her father wasn’t up yet, which made sense since he was starting a night shift at the plant. She grabbed an old backpack from the door, filled with miscellaneous items like binders, pencils, her transfer transcripts and notebooks—she wasn’t sure what she’d need for her first day. Unsure of how to get to school, she didn’t want to bother her sleeping father. She stepped outside, grabbed her bike from the side of the trailer, and thought, I’ll just head in the direction we came from. I'll probably find it.
The air was brisk but not too cold for a September day. She started to get a little in her head about her first day. She was no stranger to starting over, but she hadn’t expected to be doing it so soon. Lost in her thoughts, she wasn't sure how much time had passed until she saw the shape of a school ahead. As she reached the entrance, she hopped off her bike and walked the rest of the way, taking in the campus and the students.
It was nothing huge, definitely smaller than her school in Colorado. The students looked typical; a lot of them dressed preppy. Still, she noticed a few people who seemed to be in the lower-middle-class style bracket, like her, with worn shoes, frayed jeans, and flannels. It made her feel a little less self-conscious about her appearance.
She saw a bike rack and, thankfully, an empty slot. She took the chain from her backpack and locked her bike. Then, slowly, she pushed open the school doors. Here goes nothing, I guess.
Upon entering, she was immediately overwhelmed. Though the school was small, she hated crowds, and the hall was packed. She tried to refocus. Which way would the office be? She walked a little further and saw large double doors. That has to be it. Pushing through, she saw the front desk and quietly approached it.
"Um, excuse me, hello, good morning," she said to the receptionist.
The older woman looked up, seeming a little annoyed to be interrupted.
"Hi, I’m Clover Wallace, a new student. Today is my first day, so I’m checking in." She handed the woman the paperwork from her backpack.
The woman looked it over, opened a drawer, and pulled out a large binder. "Ah, yes, here you are. New transfer. Let me get your schedule." She rummaged around for a couple of minutes, then handed Clover a schedule, a locker number, and a combination.
"Okay, so you'll have English as your first class with Mrs. O’Donnell. That one should be down the hall a little ways, room 212. I have also given you your locker number and combination; they're just outside this door to the right. If you can’t find any of the rooms, I’m sure a classmate can help. Have a good first day, sweetie."
Okay, well, I guess that’s all I’m gonna get.
Clover headed out the doors and looked at her locker number: 128, combo 08-25-28. She walked a little further, past 125, 126, and 127, and there was 128. She tried the combination a couple of times. What the fuck, why isn’t it working? She leaned her head against the cool metal.
"Taking a nap on your first day?"
She looked up and saw Eddie Munson standing there. He had on the same dark jeans, vest, and jacket, but today he wore a shirt that read “Hellfire Club” across the chest. Didn't Dustin say something about a club?
"This locker won’t open. I've tried multiple times," she said, exasperated.
He motioned for the combo, and she obliged. "Sometimes these fuckers stick," he said. He wiggled the clasp a little, and it popped open.
She clapped her hands together. "Thank you. I thought I wouldn’t make it to my first class at this rate." She smiled at him shyly.
"No worries, here to help," he smiled.
At that moment, someone knocked into him. It was a boy with sandy-brown hair wearing a letterman jacket. "Watch it, freak," he said to Eddie. The guy then turned to Clover. "Hmm, are you new? Don't recognize you."
"Yes, I am," she said in a small voice.
He leaned closer to her. "Well, new girl, I'm gonna give you some advice." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward Eddie. "This guy is into some dark shit. Best if you don’t associate with him."
She just looked at him. "I appreciate the concern, but I’m good, thank you," she said.
"Whatever, new girl. Just trying to warn you." He threw a dirty look at Eddie and then shuffled on.
She turned to Eddie, who had a hard look on his face. "Are you okay?" she asked with concern.
"Hey, I’m good. Those guys are just assholes."
"Is this supposed 'dark shit,'" she said, using air quotes, "because you have a Dungeons and Dragons club?" she asked.
He turned to her, surprised.
"I was having dinner at my cousin Dustin’s house last night, and he mentioned that his friend Eddie has a D&D club called Hellfire," she said, pointing to his shirt.
"Your family here is Henderson?" he asked.
She nodded her head. "Interesting," he said, observing her.
"But yes, that, along with the heavy metal music and obvious sense of impeccable style, have labeled me dangerous," he said, putting dangerous in air quotes mocking a dagger to the chest.
She looked at him with sad eyes. "That’s just ridiculous. I'm sorry they say those things about you, Eddie."
He laughed. "Don’t sweat it, Wallace. Why would I care what a bunch of stuck-up jocks think of me anyway?" He said it, but she knew from experience that dealing with a bully was hard. Hell, she dealt with one all the time at home.
"Anyway," he said, "what's your first class? I didn't even ask. You are a senior, right?"
"Yes, I am a senior." She looked down at her schedule. "First class is English with someone named O’Donnell."
"That’s perfect. I also have that class. She definitely does not like me, though, fair warning."
She looked at him, frowning. "I may have failed her class twice already," he said, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Well, you’ll pass this year, right? No harm," she said, smiling at him.
"Well, that’s the hope. '86 is my year," he throws his fists in the air grinning.
They walked to the classroom together, and he held the door for her. She stopped at the front to introduce herself to Mrs. O’Donnell, who smiled and welcomed her to the class. She pointed to an empty seat in the back, where Clover saw Eddie with his head on the desk.
"Okay, class, good morning. I hope that you did your weekend reading," Mrs. O'Donnell said, giving Eddie a scrutinizing look. "Also, we have a new student joining us. Would you like to introduce yourself, dear?"
Clover paled; she hated attention. She stood up. "Hello, I’m Clover Wallace. I just moved here from Colorado." She immediately sat down, not wanting to draw any further attention. Mrs. O’Donnell seemed pleased with that. The rest of the class was spent talking about the assigned reading, which Clover had read previously at her other school, so she was able to follow along easily.
The bell rang to signal the end of class, and she suddenly felt nervous again. This class had been fine, but Eddie was there with her; he was really the only person she knew so far besides Dustin. She felt someone tap her on the shoulder and flinched, turning to see Eddie. He looked at her seriously, moving his hand back.
"Are you okay? I was just wondering if you were gonna sit there psyching yourself out or go to your next class," he said, giving her a gentle smile.
"Oh, yes, I should definitely get to my next class. You're right." She quickly stuffed papers into her backpack.
"Hey, I wasn’t judging.” He surveys her looking at her with a gentle smile. “What’s the next class? Maybe I can help you figure out which way it is."
She handed him her schedule. "Hmm, looks like you got history with Simmons. That’s this way." He pointed down the hall as they made their way from O’Donnell’s. He stopped at room 228, handing her back her schedule. "Alright, well, have a good class. We have the same lunch period," he said, pointing to her schedule. "Come find me if you want," he said, shooting her a smile and waving.
She had a smile on her face as she entered the new classroom. She stopped at the front again, and Mr. Simmons greeted her, pointing her toward the back. She had to do a small introduction again. That was how her morning classes went; her workload wasn’t too horrible so far. It seemed like the curriculum in Colorado was similar to Hawkins. After her core classes, her next class was studio art.
This was the class she had most been looking forward to. In hard times, she’d had books, music, and art to get her through. She loved sketching, painting, and photography. The teacher pointed her to the back, she observed that it was two people to a longer desk. She saw a tallish girl with shorter brown hair seated at her desk. When Clover sat down, the girl turned to her. "Hey, I’m Robin Buckley."
Clover smiled. "Hey, I’m Clover. Nice to meet you, Robin."
For the rest of the class, they sketched a still life at the front. She talked with Robin while they drew. She really liked Robin; she was kind and very talkative, but Clover preferred it that way since she wasn't much of a talker herself. Once the studio ended, she was a little bummed to find that Robin didn’t have the same lunch period as her. They parted ways, discussing meeting up in the library for their free period, which they both happened to have as their last class of the day.
Clover headed toward her locker to drop off some of her collected school books. As she was at her locker, she felt someone come up on her right side. "Clover! Hey, how's your first day going so far?" It was Dustin, and he was giving her a huge grin.
"Hey, Dustin. It's pretty good so far, nothing out of the ordinary." She smiled at him. "How is your day going?" she asked.
"Good! I wasn’t sure if you had met anyone yet. I wanted to see if you’d like to have lunch with me and my friends?" he said, looking at her hopefully.
"Sure, that sounds nice. I'd love to meet your friends."
He led her away from her locker to the lunchroom. It was really busy when they got there, and she couldn’t help but feel like people were staring at her. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or if people were just nosy. Probably a bit of both, honestly. She didn’t have any money for lunch, nor did she bring anything, but she just told Dustin that she was too nervous to eat. They approached a table, he held out a seat for her, and she took it.
"Hey guys, this is my cousin Clover Wallace. It's her first day."
She looked around and spotted Eddie Munson sitting at the head of the table. It seemed like he was the de facto leader of this group. He gave her a knowing smile but said nothing.
"Okay, Clo, so this is Mike, Lucas, Jeff, Gareth, and Eddie." He pointed to each person as he named them.
"Hello," she offered a small wave with a nervous smile. "It’s really nice to meet you all." They looked at her, offering polite smiles.
Then Eddie said, "Good to see you again, Wallace. How has your morning been?"
Dustin looked at him like he’d grown a second head. "How do you guys know each other?"
Clover cleared her throat. "Actually, I met him yesterday. He's kind of my neighbor. Then he totally saved me by helping me with my locker and showing me where some of my classes were."
"Eddie Munson, our Eddie, voluntarily went to class and also helped you locate classes?" Dustin said this in a mocking voice.
Eddie threw a cracker at him. "Okay, okay, no need to be a smartass, Henderson."
"I'm not, I am honestly genuinely surprised," he said.
Eddie rolled his eyes. "Hey, I can be nice. Don’t act so shocked."
Dustin just ignored him. "Well, anyway, Clover, have you met anyone else so far?" Dustin said.
"Yeah, actually, I met this girl, Robin Buckley, in my studio class," she said, smiling.
"Oh, hey, I know Robin. She’s super cool. She’s good friends with Steve." "Steve is also super cool. You’ll have to meet him sometime," Dustin said in an excited voice.
"Okay, Dustin, now that introductions are over, can we get back to the campaign discussion?" Jeff said, not unkindly, and offered her a smile.
"Okay, okay, sure, let’s get back into it," Dustin said, nodding at the other members.
Clover leaned back and zoned out a bit, catching bits of the conversation here and there. Something about experience points, Eddie and Gareth getting a little heated, and planning for next Friday's session. After some time, the bell rang. She made sure to grab her stuff, and Dustin leaned closer to her. "Gotta run, Clover, got a math test. Glad I got to see you before the end of the day." He ran off. She continued to reorganize herself before her next class. She looked up and saw that Eddie had waited for her, maybe?
"What’s your next class?" he said, walking toward her and leaning over her shoulder to glance at her schedule. "Looks like PE," she groaned.
He laughed. "Not a fan, I take it."
"I am not a very physically fit person," she laughed.
"Well, good news. My next class is PE, but honestly, I was thinking of skipping."
"What, no! Eddie, you’d leave me alone in there?" she said, gasping in fake shock.
"I know, I know, but I have some business to attend to. And I don’t have a free period next like someone," he said while pointing to her schedule with a small smile.
"Okay, I understand," she said with a small smile.
"I am, however, a gentleman, so I will show you where the gym is," he offered.
"My hero," she said, then slung her bag over her shoulder and followed him.
They approached the gym. "Okay, have a good class. Later, Wallace." He walked backward, waving at her dramatically as he went. She laughed and then entered the gym. She found the teacher, Ms. Lachlan, who actually let her sit this one out since they were running the mile today. Thank God she wasn't doing that. She went and sat on the bleachers and looked through the assignments she'd collected for the day, seeing if she could get anything done. She decided to read one of the assigned chapters from English. Before she knew it, the bell was ringing again.
Finally, the last class of the day—well, free period. But nonetheless, she was going to use it to get the majority of her homework done. She wasn’t sure what kind of mood her father would be in before his shift, and she wanted to be prepared. She met Robin in the back in a private little nook. Robin talked about the rest of her day, and Clover told her about her other classes and about lunch. She was surprised and excited to find that Dustin was her cousin. She asked about Hellfire, since she always heard Dustin go on about it. Clover didn’t have much to add beyond that; it was just a D&D club, which Robin was aware of. Robin found it funny when she told her how nice and helpful Eddie had been. According to her, she’d only ever heard of his animated outbursts; not that he was scary, but she didn’t expect him to be the type to take her under his wing. Clover thought that Eddie just had a bad reputation perpetrated by the jocks of the school. Robin agreed that those guys definitely seemed like they had it out for him.
Finally, the last bell rang, signaling the end of the day. The day, while not unstressed for the most part, wasn't too bad. She headed to her locker and deposited her books and the papers she wouldn’t need for tonight. She then headed out the doors and unhooked her bike. She walked it across the parking lot to the entrance. On her walk over, she noticed Eddie and the other Hellfire members standing up against his van. She looked up and caught his eye; he gave her a wink of acknowledgment and then went back to his conversation. When she made it to the entrance, she hopped on her bike and headed back toward Forest Hills. All in all, this day turned out a lot better than she imagined. She just hoped that tonight went the same.

Notes:

Thanks for tuning in !
How are we feeling so far ? How do you think Clover is feeling about Eddie ?
Do you think Eddie is catching feelings ?

I reworked some of the earlier chapters to better fit my narrative.
💕

Chapter 5: For when you get bored

Summary:

Clover finishes her first day and tries settling in back home. She meets her neighbor on the way home. Things with her father seem like they will never be easy.
*mind the trigger warnings in the tab , stuff gets tough for Clover.

On her bike ride back, she noticed the temperature had dipped considerably, but the crisp breeze felt nice on her face. She thought back to school, knowing it would be different here and feeling so thankful for that.

In the halls of Hawkins High, she felt a sense of freedom. He couldn't touch her here. This was a place where she could make her own way, where he wouldn't be able to control her like before.

She felt awful about the incident with the boy but also grateful. Maybe it was messed up to be happy, but, God, she was. He had been livid when they forced him to resign. That anger was brutal, even for him. She prayed it would be a long time before she was on the receiving end of that again. Just maybe him working nights at the plant would be in her favor. Fewer interactions meant he would have fewer chances to be angry with her. She thought back to his promise, praying he would be better.

She had made plans to meet up with Robin before class tomorrow. Robin was really lovely. Clover felt she could be close with her. She had never really gotten the opportunity to hang out with anyone at her old school. The fact that Dustin already thought highly of Robin was a good sign. Dustin seemed really loyal and took pride in who he brought into his circle. She was glad to be included in that.

That thought also made her think of Eddie Munson. He had been just as kind and warm as when they had met in the woods the previous day. He felt safe to her. At school, people seemed to avoid him and were even scared of him. That’s usually how people are, though—they're scared of what they don't know but fail to see the devil beside them. She bit her lip, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She didn’t want to think of her father until she absolutely had to.

As she got closer, she started to see the sign for Forest Hills. She hopped off her bike, wanting to take it slow and see the landscape. She had been in such a rush yesterday and again this morning. Clover walked the trail slowly, looking at the other trailers. Some people were sitting outside, and some kids were playing on a playground further back. Some people waved at her while others avoided her gaze. She didn’t care; she was enjoying her little stroll. As she walked past a trailer with a couch on the front porch, she noticed someone on the step smoking a cigarette. They caught her eye; it was Eddie Munson. He got up and immediately started walking toward her.

"Hey, Wallace, long time no see," he said, giving her a genuine smile.

"Oh, hello," she said, giving him a shy smile. "This is your place?"

He nodded. "You live here yourself or...?"
"Nah, I live here with my uncle. But he works nights at the plant."

"Oh, yeah? My father is supposed to start the night shift there tonight." He smiled at that.

"So, how did the rest of the day go? Did you make it through PE?" he laughed.

"I thought I was a goner, but I made it through. To be honest, Ms. Lachlan didn’t even make me do anything. So I just hung out on the bleachers and did some reading."

"You lucked out. Hopefully, you read something for yourself?" He took a drag of his cigarette.

"No, just assigned for now. Most of my books are still packed away. Actually, most of my stuff is packed away. I'll probably try to tackle that later tonight, I suppose." Her father would want that taken care of as soon as possible. He was probably already pissed that she hadn't started yet.

"Hmm, well, when you get bored later, come find me," he said, surveying her. It was a little presumptuous but not unwarranted. She watched him draw a small notepad and pen from the inside of his leather jacket and write something on it. "This is my number," he said, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, pocketing it. "Well, I should probably get home before my father wonders where I am." She swallowed hard, looking at her feet, trying not to let her anxiety get to her. When she looked up, he was looking at her with his brown doe eyes. It felt like he wasn't just looking at her but looking through her. Was he picking up on her anxiety? It was probably just her imagination, because a second later, she saw that nonchalant look on his face.

She turned and made her way toward her trailer. She looked back one last time and saw him watching her with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a small frown on his face. But then he turned and walked back toward the entrance of his own trailer.

She continued on the path to her trailer; it was only about a half-mile more up. Please, let the rest of this day continue without incident. She deposited her bike on the side and then slowly opened the door. The first thing she observed was that her father was reclined in his chair with a beer. So much for slowing down on the drinking. He turned toward her with a frown on his face.

"Took you long enough," he said, looking down at his watch, clearly annoyed.

"Sorry, I lost track of time."

"That's okay. How was the first day? Did you meet some new people?"

"Yeah, I met a couple of people so far."

"That's good. I want you to be happy here, Clover. I know we haven't always had the easiest relationship, but I'm really trying here. You know that I hate to have to punish you, but you're unruly that way. No doubt that comes from your mother." He made direct eye contact with her.

Clover stood her ground, afraid to move, but nodded her head in acknowledgment. He got up and walked toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Sweetie, you don't have to be scared of me. Everything I do is for your benefit." Liar, she thought. He brushed back her hair, putting it behind her shoulder. "I know. I'm thankful for everything you do," she said.

"You're so beautiful, just like your mother. I know you'd never betray me." His gaze was completely fixed on her. He placed a kiss on her forehead. It was gentle, but it felt like a slap to her face. "My shift starts at 8. I'm sorry you'll have to spend nights alone, but that's just how it has to be for now, I'm afraid." He turned away, going back to the recliner.

"I expect you to get the kitchen situated while I'm gone. You can work on your room now. I’ll let you know when I’m getting ready to leave."

"Yes, I can do that," she said, quickly making her way to her room and shutting the door. Only when she was safely behind the door did she let herself feel the anxiety. She slid down the door and grabbed her knees.

Clover's breath hitched, a sudden, sharp gasp that felt like a gulp of cold air. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, irregular rhythm that seemed impossibly loud. A wave of heat washed over her skin, followed by a sudden chill that made her shiver. Her hands began to tremble, and a tingling, pins-and-needles sensation spread through her fingers and toes. The room seemed to sway and blur at the edges.

Clover couldn't understand what was happening. Was this a heart attack? Was something wrong with her body? A powerful sense of dread, of impending doom, filled her mind. She felt a terrifying sense of detachment, as if she were watching this all happen to someone else. The ground felt shaky, her legs weak, and a fear of losing control, of fainting, seized her. She struggled to breathe, her chest feeling tight and constricted, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her. All she wanted was to escape, to run, but her body felt heavy and unresponsive.

Fuck, it had been a while since she felt this way. She felt so weak and pathetic; he hadn’t even done anything. It wasn’t like the last time. She shuddered just thinking about that incident from a month ago. Even now, she wasn’t completely healed. But she had disobeyed him, and honestly, she knew the consequences. It was as much her fault as it was his.

After ten more minutes, she felt calm enough to pick herself up from the ground. She walked over to her bed and dragged a couple of boxes with her. "Books" was the first labeled box. She got to work unpacking and organizing them on her small bookshelf. The next was "Clothes." She mostly had hand-me-downs or items found at the thrift shop. Some were items her mother had left behind. Her father had trashed most of her stuff, but she was able to save a couple of things.

She wondered about her mother. Did she still think of her? Was her life better now that she had escaped the iron fist of Robert? She didn’t know much about the man she had run off with. How could she blame her for wanting out of this situation? Her mom was never really all there anyway; when her father would get violent, she would numb the pain, be that with alcohol, drugs, or other men. Despite her mother abandoning her, she still loved her. She was just trying to survive; she was only human.

She shook her head. No need to be depressing tonight. The last box was "Misc." She started to pull out some posters, tapes, magazines, sketchbooks, pencils, a camera, and some miscellaneous film. She hadn’t tried sketching in a while. When she needed to escape, that was her bliss. She went about organizing her miscellaneous items in her small desk. She surveyed her room. Everything was put away for the most part. She felt better. It was one less thing to worry about tonight.

She made her way out of her room. It looked like her father had retreated to his room to get ready for his shift. She glanced down at her watch—about seven o'clock now. He would probably be leaving in about forty minutes or so. She got busy opening boxes and unpacking dishes. It would probably be a good idea to wipe them off before putting them in the cabinets. She reached down under the sink for some cleaning supplies she’d put there yesterday. When she looked, she saw a number of bottles, all at various stages of being empty. She tried not to cry. He'd promised. But really, what did she expect?

She was just reaching to set the last glass on the top shelf when a shadow fell over her. "What do you think you're doing?" The voice was a low, steady rumble, an unexpected presence that made her jump.

The glass slipped. It didn't just fall; it twisted from her grasp, a silent, graceful arc. Time stretched, and she watched it plummet, a single, clear tear in the air. The crash was a shocking explosion, a thousand tiny shards of light scattering across the linoleum, a mess of shattered potential. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. She could feel the weight of his stare, not on the broken glass but on her, and the silence that followed was louder, sharper than the crash itself.

Her father’s eyes, a cold, hard blue, slid from the scattered shards of glass on the floor to her face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The silence stretched, a thick, suffocating blanket that pressed in on Clover. He didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice. Instead, he took a slow step forward, then another, his movements deliberate and quiet. He stopped just a few feet from her, his shadow falling over the mess. He looked at the glass again, then back at her, a slow, condescending shake of his head. "Look at this mess," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You can't even do one simple thing right." He didn't wait for a response; he didn't seem to expect one.

He stepped closer, the space between them dissolving. Without a word, his hand shot out, not to her arm but to her face. His fingers wrapped around her jaw, the pressure a cold, unyielding clamp. He tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were like chips of ice, holding no warmth, no mercy. "Clean it up," he said, his voice a low hiss, each word a command. The silence that followed was broken only by the sharp, ragged sound of Clover's breath. He held her there for a long moment, a silent assertion of his control, before he let go just as abruptly as he had grabbed her.

He didn't release her jaw. Instead, his grip tightened, a bruising pressure that made her wince. His eyes bored into hers, a silent, chilling threat. The words were a low, grinding growl, barely audible but more terrifying than a shout. "This kitchen better be cleaned by the time I'm back in the morning. Every last one of these little pieces of glass gone. Understand?" He held her there for another moment.

His grip finally released her, and Clover stumbled back, her hand flying to her aching jaw. "Good," he grunted, the sound devoid of warmth. "I'm going to my shift at the plant."

He snatched his coat from the hook by the door, the fabric rustling like dry leaves. The jingle of his keys was a sharp, final sound before the heavy thud of the front door slamming shut rattled the silence, leaving Clover alone in the kitchen with the scattered glass and the suffocating echoes of his words.

She collapsed to the floor, her body crumpling into a heap. The cold linoleum bit into her knees, and a sharp, stinging pain shot through her palm. A few of the glass shards, razor-thin and glinting under the harsh kitchen light, had cut into her flesh. She didn't cry out. Instead, she just stared at the tiny beads of blood that welled up, a physical manifestation of the ache and terror that consumed her. She felt nothing but a cold numbness, surrounded by the mess, the physical pain a dull echo of the emotional one.

A shuddering breath escaped her, a quiet, broken sound. Her hands, scraped and stinging, were already starting to throb, but she pushed the pain down, burying it deep inside. The cold, logical part of her brain took over. She had a job to do.

Slowly, carefully, she sat up on her knees. Her gaze was fixed on the glittering wreckage on the floor, the mess her father had commanded her to fix. The blood on her palm was a dull red smear against the white tile, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the task. Her fingers, still trembling, began to pick up the largest pieces of glass. Each movement was deliberate, her mind detached from her body, lost in the single-minded focus of cleaning up the mess. The silence of the trailer was a heavy blanket, broken only by the faint click-clink of glass being placed into a cup, a quiet, repetitive rhythm.

When the last piece of glass was carefully placed in the cup, Clover stood up, her body protesting with a groan of stiff muscles. Her hands throbbed, the cuts stinging, but she pushed the pain away, her focus already shifting to the next task. She grabbed a bucket, filled it with hot water, and added a generous squirt of dish soap. The suds billowed up, a fragile, temporary cloud.

Kneeling on the cold floor once more, she dipped a sponge into the soapy water, wringing it out until it was just damp. She scrubbed at the reddish smears on the white tile, the faint stains her blood had left behind.

The clean kitchen floor now gleamed in the dim light, but the sting in Clover’s hands was a constant, throbbing reminder. She moved silently toward the bathroom. The air in there was cool and still. She reached for the small, white first-aid kit below the sink. The plastic latches clicked open with a soft sound, and she took out a roll of sterile gauze.

Her hands trembled slightly as she began to wrap the gauze around her palms. The clean, white bandage was a stark contrast to the small, red cuts she had so carefully tried to ignore. She worked slowly and methodically. As she wrapped her hands, a fragile sense of relief settled over her.

Clover reached for a bottle of ibuprofen. The pills were small and white, a promise of dulling the throbbing ache. She swallowed two without water; she’d done it many times before.

She stood for a moment, her gaze unfocused, and then her mind, in a sudden, jarring shift, replayed the scene from earlier. The memory felt distant and fuzzy, like a dream she'd had days ago. The path home, the easy conversation, the piece of paper Eddie had pressed into her hand. The events of the night had pushed it from her mind entirely. A simple phone number, a lifeline she hadn't known she needed until this very moment.

Clover walked to the phone on the wall. Her fingers, still clumsy from the bandages, fumbled over the keypad. She pressed the numbers, each beep a small, deliberate act of defiance. The phone rang once, then twice, the sound a jarring intrusion into the silence of the trailer. On the third ring, a voice, warm and familiar, answered.

"Hello?" it said. It was Eddie.

"Hey, Eddie," her voice was a thin, reedy whisper, barely audible over the static on the line. "It's Clover. Does your... does your earlier offer still stand?" The words felt clumsy and fragile, a desperate plea hanging in the quiet of the night.

"So you did get bored," Eddie said, a smile evident in his voice.

"Yeah, something like that," she replied, a faint, humorless laugh escaping her lips.

"Well, I'm glad you called," he said, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, listen... I need to get out of here for a little bit. Would you want to go on a walk or something?" she said, the last words a hesitant question hanging in the air.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he replied, and Clover felt a genuine, albeit small, smile grace her lips for the first time all night.

"Okay," she said, her voice still a little shaky but with a newfound purpose. "I'll meet you at your trailer in ten."

Notes:

Thanks for tuning in. Sorry that this update took longer. Thanks for sticking around. I’m gonna try to be more consistent

💕

Chapter 6: So where are we going ?

Summary:

Clover takes Eddie up on his offer. They share some moments together.

Clover retreated back to the bathroom, her father’s anger lingering on her skin. Her face throbbed where he had grabbed her, but the real pain radiated from her damaged hands. She looked in the mirror; her reflection showed a tear-stained and pained expression. Grabbing a washcloth, she wiped her face clean, then applied a light layer of makeup. She wasn’t sure why—to hide the damage? To pretend she was okay? All she knew was she needed to escape the trailer, if only for a little while.

She slipped into her bedroom pulled on a sweater, the long sleeves offering a welcome cover for her hands. She didn’t want to talk about them or explain them. As long as they were hidden, they felt less real.

With her keys and coat in hand, she was out the door and into the chilly night air. The walk to Eddie's trailer wasn't long, and the cool breeze felt like a balm on her skin. She reached his door and knocked twice, the sound echoing in the stillness. A rustling from inside confirmed he was home, and she waited.

The sound of a deadbolt sliding back broke the silence. The door swung open, and there stood Eddie, his face lighting up as soon as he saw her. "Clover," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. But as he took in the sight of her, his smile faltered. His eyes, kind and knowing, traced the fake smile on her lips—the one that didn't quite reach her eyes. The concern in his gaze was a question she didn't want to answer, a silent plea for the truth.

"Hey," Clover said softly, her shoulders hunched slightly as if to make herself smaller. She tucked her covered hands deeper into the pockets of her sweater, a subtle, protective gesture. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." She finally met his eyes, a flicker of raw desperation in her own. "I just... needed to get away for a little bit." She didn't offer any more, leaving the rest unsaid, a heavy, unspoken weight hanging between them.

Eddie’s smile softened, melting away into a look of quiet understanding. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at her. “Nothing to interrupt, honestly,” he said, his voice gentle and low. He took a step back, opening the door wider in a silent invitation. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

"Yeah," she said with a genuine smile that finally reached her eyes. She ducked under his extended arm and slipped inside. The trailer was a welcome shock—warm and cozy, filled with the comforting scent of a fresh pot of coffee. It was the complete opposite of her own home, a haven from the harshness she'd just left behind. The immediate wave of relief was so strong it almost made her knees weak. She felt herself instantly relax, a quiet calm settling over her that she hadn't felt all night.

Eddie looked at her, his eyes soft with concern. "Anything I can get you?" he asked, his voice low and gentle. "A glass of water? Tea? I just made a fresh pot of coffee." He didn't press for details, just offered a quiet comfort, a simple way to care for her without asking for anything in return.

"No, that's okay, thanks though," she said, her voice a little more firm this time. She held his gaze, a quiet message in her eyes. It was a silent request for him not to push, not to ask, just to let her be.

She found herself watching him. The long, wavy hair that fell just so, the kindness in his eyes, the boyishness of his face—it all combined into a handsomeness that was striking, a quiet beauty she hadn't noticed before. But it wasn't just that. It was the way he was with her, the way he seemed to read her mood without a single word. He didn't push or pry, and didn't demand explanations. He simply gave her a safe, warm space to exist in, and in that moment, that felt like the most devastatingly handsome thing about him.

He clapped his hands together, a sharp, decisive sound that broke the quiet. "Alright," he said, the word a gentle transition from the moment they were sharing. "I'm just gonna grab my boots and my jacket, and I'll be right back." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward what she assumed was his bedroom.

While he was gone, Clover's gaze drifted around the cozy space. Her eyes landed on a wall near the living room where a collection of baseball caps hung neatly. Some were faded and worn, others newer and brighter, but each seemed to tell a story. She noticed the layout of his trailer was similar to hers, just flipped—the small kitchen area leading into a compact living space, with a hallway that likely led to the bedrooms.

A few seconds later, Eddie emerged from the bedroom, now wearing a pair of black boots and his well-worn leather jacket. The look felt distinctly his, and it offered a strange sense of comfort. "Alright," he said, his voice soft but clear. "Ready for an evening stroll?"

As he passed the kitchen counter, he casually snagged a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He slipped them into the inner pocket of his jacket without a second thought. A genuine smile broke across Clover's face, a fragile but real thing that reached her eyes. "Yeah," she said, her voice now filled with a lightness that hadn't been there before. "Let's go. I'm following you."

She followed him out of the trailer and into the cool night air. The path was uneven beneath her feet; the familiar crunch of gravel felt different here, less lonely.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, her voice a little more curious now, a little less strained.

He looked at his watch and then glanced back at her, a soft smile on his face. "You'll see."

They walked for a little longer, the path a familiar, worn-down trail that Eddie seemed to know by heart. After a few minutes, he turned onto a narrow, man-made path that disappeared into a thicket of trees. Without a word, he took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers, and a warmth spread through her.

"This way," he said, his voice a low rumble.

The path soon opened into a secluded clearing. In the center sat an old, beat-up trailer, its paint faded and peeling, looking as if it had been abandoned for years. He led her to it and released her hand, gesturing to a sturdy metal ladder bolted to the side.

"Go on," he said, a gentle smile on his face. "Climb up to the top. Don't worry," he added, his eyes meeting hers, "I won't let you fall." The last words were a promise, a soft reassurance that settled the butterflies in her stomach.

Clover scrambled to the top of the trailer, her hands finding a purchase on the sturdy, rusted metal. A couple of old, weathered chairs were already there, facing the clear view ahead. She heard the creak and groan of the ladder as Eddie followed her up. He emerged a moment later, his eyes already on the horizon.

He glanced at his watch again, a flicker of excitement in his expression. "We made it just in time," he said, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. He gestured to the chairs.

She dropped into one of the chairs, the worn canvas groaning under her weight. She glanced down at her own watch; the glowing face read a few minutes past eight. A strange, disorienting feeling came over her. Had it really only been such a short amount of time since her father's violent outburst? Since the moment she had fled her trailer, hands shaking, and found her way to Eddie? It felt like a lifetime had passed, a whole world away from the harshness she had just escaped.

"So, you're gonna wanna look right there," he said, his voice a low, excited whisper. He pointed out toward the horizon.

Clover followed his gaze, and her breath caught. The sky was an impossible canvas of color, a masterpiece painted just for them. A brilliant, molten orb of a sun, deep orange at its core, bled into fiery reds and soft streaks of pink that feathered out to meet the pale blue of the fading day.

The September air, crisp and clear, seemed to sharpen the colors, making their brilliance almost overwhelming. It was a silent, grand spectacle, a gentle goodbye to the day that had started with such violence. In that moment, watching the world burn with such quiet beauty, the pain in her hands and the sting of her father's words felt a million miles away.

She finally tore her eyes away from the fiery sky and turned to look at him. A soft, genuine smile was on his face, mirroring her own, but his eyes weren't on the horizon. They were on her.

In this quiet, shared instant, she felt more seen and understood than she had in a very long time, and the feeling was more beautiful than any sunset.

"See?" he said, his voice a soft, low murmur filled with quiet satisfaction. He wasn't gloating, but simply confirming the unspoken truth. "I told you to wait and see."

"Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with genuine awe as she turned her gaze back to the sky, watching the last vibrant hues fade into twilight. "I don't know if I've ever seen a sunset that beautiful."

It wasn't just the brilliant oranges and fiery reds that made it so stunning. It was the feeling of being here, safe and warm and completely at peace, that made the beauty of the sunset so profound. She had seen sunsets before, but never one that felt so much like a perfect, healing gift.

He smiled back at her, a gentle, knowing look in his eyes. "I'm glad," he said softly, his voice full of a quiet contentment.

Then, the sincerity in his expression shifted into a playful glint. "Just don't go telling anyone about my secret spot, okay?" he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's very exclusive. I only show a few select people."

Several moments passed in a peaceful silence.

He broke the peaceful silence with a small, deliberate movement. The old metal of the chair groaned softly as he turned, shifting his body to face her fully. He looked at her, his expression soft and open.

"Can I be honest?" he asked, his voice low and serious. He turned to face her fully, his eyes searching hers in the dim light. The playful façade from a moment ago was gone, replaced by a deep and quiet sincerity.

She looked at him, the quiet trust between them feeling more real than ever. She swallowed hard. "Yes," she said, her own voice barely a whisper.

He took a slow breath. "When you called me, you sounded so lost. And when you got here, you seemed so sad." He glanced down at her hands for a moment before looking back up at her, a profound empathy in his gaze. "I just... I just wanted to do something that might make you smile."

"To be honest," she began, her voice small and filled with a touch of self-consciousness, "when you said I could call if I got bored, I wasn't even sure you were serious. I mean, we just met."

He looked at her with a deadpan expression, his dark eyes wide in mock seriousness. "I was one hundred percent serious," he said, his voice completely flat.

Then, his face softened, the mischievousness fading into a quiet, profound sincerity. His voice dropped to a gentle, steady tone. "I'm glad you called, Clover."

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out the pack and a lighter. He tapped a single cigarette free and held the lighter to the tip. A brief, bright flame flickered to life, illuminating his features for a moment before he took a long drag.

Without a word, he leaned over and held the pack out to her. He raised the lighter, and the quick flare of the flame cast a brief, dancing light over her features, both their faces illuminated in a private, golden glow against the growing darkness. A quiet, almost magnetic energy passed between them.

"Anyway," he said, turning to face her fully, his expression open and patient. "Tell me more about yourself."

"There really isn't much to tell," she said, her voice quiet and laced with a tone of finality. She gave a small, defeated shrug. "Like I said, I'm from Colorado and moved here with my father."

He held up a hand, a gentle, non-threatening gesture that cut her off. A soft smile touched his lips, a look of profound patience in his eyes.

"No," he said, his voice a low, warm murmur. "I wanna know about you. What are you into?" He gestured with his free hand, a sense of quiet triumph in his tone. "We already covered your superior taste in music. You mentioned you like to read and you do some art in your spare time, right?"

Clover blushed, the color rising in her cheeks. She looked down at her hands, a bit embarrassed by the sudden focus on her. "Oh, well, it depends on my mood," she said, her voice quiet. She took a slow drag from her cigarette, as if to buy herself a moment to think.

"Recently, I've been re-reading The Hobbit." A small, private smile touched her lips as she looked back up at him. "Adventure calls to me."

A low, gentle laugh rumbled in his chest, and a wide, genuine smile spread across his face. He leaned back in his chair, looking at her with a knowing, warm expression.

"Ah," he said simply. "A classic."

"Yeah," she said with a quiet smile, "I'll probably do a full trilogy re-read after."

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, a thoughtful look on his face. He blew the smoke out, a thin, white cloud in the moonlight.

He looked at her, his gaze warm and knowing. He spoke softly. "It's a dangerous business, Clover, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

A genuine, radiant smile spread across Clover's face, her entire expression lighting up in the dim moonlight. The weariness and sadness that had been etched there all night seemed to vanish, if only for a moment.

"I truly am in good company," she said, a quiet warmth in her voice. "How good it is to meet a real-life Tolkien fan."

He laughed softly at that, a genuine, warm sound that filled the quiet space. He took a long, final drag of his cigarette, watching the ember glow brightly before fading. He then brought his boot down, stamping the ember out on the metal surface with a quiet scrape.

He looked at her, his expression settled and content. "Well," he said, his voice casual and gentle, "what do you think? Should we make our way back?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, her own voice calm and at ease, no hint of the frantic desperation that had brought her here.

Clover stood and discarded her cigarette as he had, the quiet scraping of her shoe against the metal a final punctuation mark on the night. He turned, guiding her toward the ladder with a soft gesture.

"I'll go first," he said, pointing to the ladder. She nodded, a simple gesture of trust. He then patted his chest pocket. "I have a flashlight in case we need it." He looked at her, his expression warm and knowing. "But I know my way around in the dark pretty well."

He made his way down the ladder, the quiet scrape of his jeans against the metal a small, comforting sound in the dark. A moment later, she heard his boots hit the soft forest floor with a light thud.

"Okay, you next," she heard him say, his voice a low, steady sound from below.

A beam of light, sharp and bright, shot up from the ground, illuminating the ladder for her. She made her way down, her hands steady, guided by the circle of light he'd provided. On the last step, just before she reached the ground, he offered her his hand. It was a simple, confident gesture. She took it; the warmth of his fingers was a firm, grounding presence in the cool night.

The sudden darkness was absolute, a thick blanket that swallowed the world around them. Clover felt a jolt of surprise, but the feeling was quickly replaced by a sense of calm. Eddie still held her hand; his warmth and a firm grip were the only anchor she had.

"Alright," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "I know my way back. Just don’t let go of my hand. Wouldn't want to lose you."

They made their way back along the path they had taken, but in the absolute darkness, Clover couldn't see a thing. All she had was the firm warmth of his hand, a lifeline in the inky night. The sounds of rustling leaves and the crackle of twigs under his boots were her only guideposts as he led her blindly through the trees. She felt him pull her slightly to the side, his grip tightening just a bit, silently warning her of a low-hanging branch or an uneven patch of ground.

Once they cleared the final line of trees, and the faint, hazy glow of the trailer park came into view. The world shifted from an inky, abstract darkness to one of familiar, albeit dimly lit, shapes. He didn't drop her hand right away. Instead, his thumb brushed gently over her knuckles, and then his fingers slowly unlaced from hers. She found herself missing the warmth.

They walked the short distance back to his trailer in a comfortable silence, the only sound the quiet crunch of their shoes on the gravel path. The dimly lit windows of the other trailers gave off a soft, orange glow, a hazy contrast to the profound darkness they had just left.

Once they reached his door, Eddie turned to her, his expression warm and open. "You wanna come in?" he asked, his voice low and casual.

A comfortable quiet settled between them for a moment before Clover glanced toward the path that led up to her trailer. "I think I should probably be getting back," she said, her voice soft.

"Sure," Eddie said easily, the warmth of his smile reaching his eyes. "Let me walk you back."

She turned to him, her expression a mix of gratitude and protest. "You don't have to do that, Eddie."

"I know," he said, the words simple and certain. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and began to walk, letting her set the pace.

They made their way along the path to her trailer in a quiet, companionable silence. Once they reached the small porch, she turned to face him, the dim light from the moon and the nearby trailers illuminating her face. "Thank you for everything tonight," she said, her voice filled with a genuine sincerity. "I really appreciated it."

He looked at her, his expression settled and serious. "It's no problem. Anytime, I mean it."

The offer was a firm, unwavering promise that held more weight than she could have imagined. A small, tentative smile touched her lips as she looked up at him. "Alright. Well, I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, the question laced with a quiet hope.

His smile returned, soft and sure. "Yeah."

She took out her keys, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. He didn't leave until he heard the soft click of the deadbolt. As she did, she found herself smiling.

Notes:

Eddie is so sweet. He just wants to cheer her up. Are they becoming friends of something more ?

Thanks for tuning in 💕