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Shadows of the Past	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Breakfast Club Views: 2280 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Breakfast Club and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Shadows of the Past
Chapter 5
"Thank you," John said as he took the proffered bottle of Bud from Andy and began to look out over the lake once more from the deck.
"My pleasure." Andy sat down next to his friend, "so the blonde ..."
"Cyndi!" How many times were they going to forget his latest conquest's name? "Yes?"
"Well, where did you meet her?"
"At Lafferty's."
"How long you been seeing her?"
John sighed. "Andy?"
"Yes?"
"Are you really interested or are these questions just to humour me?"
Andy looked over to his friend and caught the exasperated expression on his face. He smiled wondering if he should follow Allison's instructions and find out what was going on in John's head. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Not really. Just wondering what you're doing with her, especially when she looks like she's a good 10 to 15 years younger than you."
"Because..." John's voice trailed off. After taking another gulp of beer he turned to look back over the lake. "If only I'd known."
"What? Claire?" Andy watched John nod his head. "She's still very beautiful."
John smiled wistfully, "yes, she is. She seemed drawn and pale though. She ..."
"What?" Andy goaded.
"Nothing."
"Come on, John. What were you going to say?"
"I was just going to say that she seemed ... distant."
"Distant?"
"Yeah, I mean I can understand her not wanting to come within 50 feet of me ... but Brian? A few years back nothing would've stopped her hugging that dork."
"Thank you very much!" A disgruntled Brian had wandered silently onto the deck. He took a vacant seat next to Andy. "So I'm still a dork, am I?"
"And I'm still the biggest asshole in the world, Bri, get over it." John exclaimed. "I just don't understand why she was so quiet. She was always the life and soul of the party."
"Yeah, I don't think I've ever seen her like that, her wanting to stay in the shadows? What was that all about? She hardly said two words all evening. She just sat and listened to the rest of us most of the time." Brian said.
Andy sighed, "I think it must have something to do with her divorce."
"What do you mean?" Brian asked.
"After Jase and me trespassed on her land earlier on, Claire and I got chatting. Seems her marriage wasn't a very happy one. She told me it was the worst relationship she'd ever been in."
"How did the mayor treat her?" John asked tentatively, the all too familiar sensation of anger beginning to bubble up inside of him whenever it involved Claire.
"I don't know, she never suggested that he’d done wrong by her and I’m sure she wouldn’t tell me if he had."
"She'd tell Allison," Brian suggested.
"Oh no, no way. I'm not asking her. If they've talked then it's between them. Besides it could just be something to do with the fact that she and the mayor didn't have any children. Apparently, he wasn’t up to the job."
"No, that’s not it. She would still have hugged Brian here." John motioned his head towards Brian. "There's something else, something she's hiding."
"Well, we can't do anything about it tonight." Andy got up from his seat and started to walk towards the house. He looked knowingly toward John. "You gonna use the den?"
"I think I should," John nodded, there was no way he was ever going to share his bed again, unless it was with Claire.
***
With a strong black coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, John looked out across the lake towards the place he knew best, the place that had now become Claire’s own. Upon reflection, it had been a wearisome morning already; arguing with nearly everyone he had come into contact with before abruptly turning on Cyndi and telling her that she needed to go. Brian had distanced himself from John by offering to take Cyndi to the station, a trip he still hadn’t returned from. John sighed heavily, this was not how things were supposed to be with the people he considered to be his closest friends. An apology was definitely in order.
Pursing his lips around the end of his cigarette, he drew in a deep lung full of nicotine before taking the half finished stick from his mouth and throwing it to the ground, a deft stamp knocking the life from the amber tip. He relished the dregs of the smoke as he exhaled, watching the cloud drift away on the cool breeze towards her, signalling the end of that particular habit considering he now felt he had something to live for again.
He gulped down the last of the sickly black liquid, on normal days he would need several to get him up and motivated but today was different, today would see the start of a new era. Smoking, drinking and women had allowed him to escape to a place where he no longer recognised himself, not that it had been as a direct result of his own wakening, nor from an understanding of how his friends saw the man he had become. He had bitten the poisoned fruit and slept for an eternity, only to be awakened by the one person he never thought he would see again, let alone spend an evening with. Unwittingly, Claire had become his saviour and he had no right to refuse anything she asked of him.
Ducking into the kitchen he faced down his attackers as one by one they took up a defensive position. He held up his hands, “if I had a white flag, I’d fly it,” he assured them.
Allison spoke first, “I forget how much of a temper you had on you in the morning,” she said, holding out her hand. Assuming that she wanted his mug, he handed it over to her but she quickly placed it on the side and walked forward, reaching for him and taking him into her embrace. “I’m sorry, John. We all knew you had a lot going on but I don’t think any of us realised just how much.”
He let her pull back, a weak smile touching his lips. “I’m the one that should be apologising. I should’ve trusted you from the start.” He looked around the room, “I should have trusted you all.”
From his propped up position on the other side of the room, Andy scrutinised the situation, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be as forgiving as his wife. “So what’s the story?”
“That’s what I’d like to know too,” Brian’s voice called from the patio door as he stepped through into the kitchen, before throwing his car keys onto the worktop.
John hesitated, considering what he should say. He stepped across the kitchen, pulling a stool from under the breakfast bar and taking a seat. “I thought I’d be ok, you know?” He started, attempting to ascertain the feeling of his audience. “I always reckoned that if I ever saw Claire again ... I ...I.”
“Yes?” Brian asked.
John shook his head, “I don’t know, I thought I could be ... indifferent, I suppose.”
The audience exchanged unspoken queries, but Allison was the only one who spoke up, “but you found that despite everything ... you couldn’t be.” John’s eyes held hers, the understanding between them evident. “Even after all this time?” She watched him nod his head before smiling.
“Al, do you think you could enlighten the rest of us?” Andy asked attempting to catch her attention.
She looked his way, smiling, “of course ... John is still in love with Claire.” Her gaze returned to John’s, “problem is, she’s off men for a while.”
“Are we talking ‘going abroad and finding yourself, off men?” Brian piped up, before realizing that Allison was now giving him her death glare.
Allison shook her head but it was John who answered, “it’s more than that, something serious.” He caught Allison’s expression, “Something sinister. What did he do to her, Al?”
She shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor. “It’s not my secret to tell. I’m sure Claire will tell you when she’s ready to.”
John stood up, crossed the short distance and took Allison’s hands in his own, “what do you suggest I do?” He asked quietly.
“Be her friend, that’s all she wants. And when she realises that she can trust you again she’ll tell you, but it could be a long, arduous journey. Can you do that, John?”
“I’ll do anything for her, Al.” He smiled briefly. “Hey Brian, how’s about a lift over to the old summer house?”
“You’re going to go and talk to her now?” Brian asked incredulously.
“No time like the present. Besides one of us should invite her along with us to Castaways tonight, might as well be me as any other.”
Brian shook his head, “ok, if it’s what you want, I’ll run you up there now.”
“Thanks, Brian.” He turned back to the rest of the group “wish me luck?” He grinned before following Brian out to his car.
***
Claire was daydreaming about how things could’ve gone the previous night had she not felt so awkward and nervous. It was bad enough that she couldn’t feel compelled to greet or say goodbye in a manner that befit the nature of her relationship with the rest of the Breakfast Clubbers, but to not even feel comfortable enough to converse with them about the state of Green Leaf Park, or what Mama’s Coffee House was like now that it had new owners, well, that was unbelievable. Ordinarily she would’ve jumped into any conversation they’d all had with both feet, but last night she kept quiet, hoping to fade away from prying questions and wayward glances.
Not that she received any questions or glances directly. Even though she’d dimmed herself out, she still kept a watchful eye and an ear in the conversation. And it gave her the opportunity to pick up on any group misalignment, quickly ascertaining that not everyone was keen on John’s new girlfriend, most especially Brian, and he was more intent on making John see how bad she was, than let everyone in on the secret that he had had every intention of spilling to the assembled group. Needless to say, the secret was still a secret.
Several times she’d found her eyes wandering to where John was sitting, diagonally opposite the table from her. She took in his body language and the way he kept his hands in view. Something told her that he actually agreed with Brian; Candi or Cyndi or whatever her name was, was about to bite the dust if she could still read him as well as she always could. And, quite honestly, she hadn’t known how she should feel about that. Was she happy that he had every intention of getting rid of the woman that he’d brought with him or sad that the reason may have had something to do with their earlier meeting?
Not that it mattered, she had no intention of picking up where he had left off and she had an inkling that if she wouldn’t then he would. She closed her eyes wondering how she could put him off without actually telling him what she had been subjected to over the course of her marriage.
She got up from the lounger where she’d been laying in the dappled sunlight as it forced its way through the gaps between the leaves. She felt cold, naked even, despite the layers of clothing she wore but couldn’t understand why until she turned around. “John?”
“Hi Claire.” He said, his hands in his jeans pockets. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m sorry if I made you jump.”
“It’s ok,” she stammered, pulling the cardigan around her body; an action that wasn’t lost on John. “Can I help you?”
“No, no. I only came by to see how you were and to invite you out to Castaways tonight.”
“I’m fine. Very well, actually. And thanks but I don’t think a date would be a good idea.”
“Oh it’s not a date,” he grinned, “we’re all going, it’s become a bit of a tradition. Maybe you could come by, have a bit of barbeque, let your hair down for a few minutes. You know, have some fun.”
“Oh, I see. Look thanks John, but I’m a bit tired after last night so I think I’ll pass.” She walked into the back of the house. John followed.
“Ok. I told Allison that you’d probably say no but she made me come and ask. To be honest you look a bit peaky.” His hand tentatively made a move towards her cheek but stopped as soon as she’d backed away from him as much as she could. “Claire, are you ill? Is that what’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing wrong, John,” she stammered, her heart hammering away in her chest, “I’m fine, really. It was just a shock yesterday, I thought I was going to be having a quiet meal with Andy and Allison but then everyone was there. It took a lot out of me.”
“I noticed.” John remarked kindly, “look, the invitations there,” he took a few steps back shaking his head, “if we see you there, then good, if we don’t then I hope we’ll see you soon.” He turned to go, stepping out from the house and onto a broken paving stone, losing his footing momentarily. Claire was by his side in an instant, her hands on his arms helping to steady him. “Your builder didn’t do a very good job with these, did he?” He smiled, dusting himself down once Claire had moved away as quickly as she’d helped him, “nearly broke my neck.”
“I didn’t have enough money to get this all sorted out at the same time as the house.” Claire answered by way of an apology.
“Claire, it’s fine, no broken bones.” He surveyed the garden, scrutinizing the overgrown beds and the rotting hand rails that lined the steep steps. “I wouldn’t use that deck though, not until someone’s had a look at it, at least.”
“It’s not safe?”
John shook his head, a smile hinting at the very corners of his lips. “Honestly, Claire, I don’t know. But with the state of those hand rails,” he pointed at the closest ones, “and the neglected garden, I’d say you should be careful until you can afford to get someone in to take a look and patch things up.”
“Could you help?” She asked, “I mean if you have time and can fit me in around your other jobs.” Her eyes searched his momentarily, “on second thoughts, it’s probably better if I get the guy I used before.”
“It seems like that guy was only here for the money,” John suggested, “there is no way any of my guys would leave you with a loose paver on a path you obviously use a lot. And I’ve got time over the next few weeks to help out,” he lied, knowing full well that he’d have to smooth out a couple of wrinkles with his foreman before fitting Claire into his busy schedule. “I can make a start on Thursday. And don’t worry about the bill, we can work something out, wait till your next royalties check or something.”
“John, that’s very kind of you but …”
“No buts, Claire. I couldn’t live with myself knowing you could be in mortal danger.” ‘That should be enough to convince her to agree,’ he thought before adding, “just promise me you’ll be careful until I can get here to take a proper look.”
She nodded, “ok, I promise.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling, “so, we’ll see you tonight?”
“Maybe,” Claire answered, watching him retreat up the steps and around to the front of the building, before realising that her stomach was fluttering. What on earth had she just agreed to? John would be coming to her house and helping out with the garden, over the next few weeks she would be in close confines with him, watching him work, how on earth was she going to cope with that?
Quite clearly, she wasn’t, and there was only one way she could nip this in the bud.
***
Having spent half the afternoon deciding what to wear, and, as she was leaving, nearly breaking her neck on the same paver that John had earlier on in the day, Claire was resolved to talk to him about his plans to help out.
Walking through the crowded restaurant, she spotted Allison and Andrew sitting at a table by the window overlooking the lake, waving at Allison once they’d spotted one another. “Good evening,” she smiled, “where are the kids?”
“Mrs Featherstone’s looking after them.” Allison said, making a face, “remember her?”
“Vaguely,” Claire answered, hooking her purse on the back of a chair and sitting opposite her friend, “isn’t she that scary looking woman who lives on the ridge?”
“Yeah, that’s her, but the kids adore her and she’s cheap, so who am I to complain?” She smiled, “I’m glad you made it.”
“Well, there’s an ulterior motive,” Claire began, “I need to …”
“Good evening, Claire,” Brian said, scooping Claire into his arms and hugging her.
Claire’s eyes widened with the contact, her arms flailing around as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “Good evening,” she managed.
“Brian, let her go,” John said firmly, his hands on Brian’s shoulders encouraging him to loosen his grip. “You know she doesn’t like to be touched.”
“It’s fine,” she whispered, finally able to use her hands to pat Brian’s back.
He stepped away from her, his eyes falling to the floor in regret. “I’m sorry, I forgot.” He said, taking a seat next to Julia at the other end of the table.
“It’s fine,” Claire shook her head, “I’m ok. Nothing broken.” She smiled briefly, retaking her seat, her hands wringing together in front of her. Allison’s hand reached across the table and covered hers, stopping them dead. She looked over to her friend, who smiled before releasing her calming grip as soon as the food arrived.
Plates of barbequed chicken wings and pork ribs sat between the diners, the smell driving everyone mad with hunger. “Who wants barbeque?” Andy said excitedly, filling his plate with meat.
Having taken the empty seat next to Claire, John leaned towards her taking care not to get too close. “What would you like?”
She turned to face him, “just a bit of chicken, thanks,” she said barely audibly. He nodded, dishing a few wings onto her plate before passing her the fries and salad. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he smiled, picking up a rib and taking a bite, “jeez, I always forget how good this stuff is.”
Claire smiled, taking the opportunity to make a sideways glance and watch John eating, suddenly remembering their first date. John had taken her to a pizza place right over the other side of town. His manners had been surprising, holding the door open for her, helping to push in her chair, keeping his hands to himself. They’d shared a pepperoni pie, talking animatedly about their interests and what they wanted from the future. John had surprised her by saying that all he wanted was enough money to provide for his family. When she questioned him further, he’d opened up to her, had told her he already had some money in the bank from his labouring work and had confided that he was just awaiting the right opportunity to leave home and make his own way. Of course, despite everything, he knew he couldn’t just leave his mother alone with his father and he also knew he needed to graduate. “I want to get mom out of there, but I can’t do that whilst I’m still at school.”
She remembered how she’d offered to help him as much as she could. “I’m no good at math though, although I think we both know someone else who is.” She’d offered, reaching over and wiping away the pizza sauce at the corner of John’s mouth.
He’d caught her hand in his, kissed her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers, “thank you,” he’d simply stated.
“My pleasure.” Claire said, suddenly aware that she may have voiced her thoughts. She looked up to find everyone at the table watching her intently. She needed saving.
“What?” John exclaimed, laughing, “Claire, are you ok?”
She shook her head, replacing her memories with the present, hoping that everyone would get back to their meals without asking too many questions, “yeah,” she managed before sighing, “I’m good.”
He leant closer, effectively shutting out everyone and everything else. “You sure?” His eyes searched hers.
She nodded, “yes.” She checked herself mentally, fighting the urge to stroke the stubble on his cheek, to wipe her thumb along his lip and erase the evidential barbeque sauce, to put her lips to his and kiss him, taste him. She dropped her eyes from his.
Before she knew what was happening, his thumb was caressing her cheek, her eyes finding his again, exploring them, the sudden swell of butterflies in her stomach couldn’t stop her from leaning towards him. Her lips were mere millimetres away from his when she realised again where she was.
She got up abruptly, her hand searching in her purse for a few bills that she then scattered onto the table top. “I have to go,” she said, purposefully striding for the entrance, her mind reeling from the events that had happened, what could’ve happened had she let them. She was soon at her car, unlocking the door and getting inside, a sudden wave of nausea hitting her, a trickle of silent tears cascading over her pallid cheek.
She felt, rather than heard, the passenger door open and someone get in next to her. “Claire? What did he do to you?” John asked quietly but urgently.
She shook her head, her fingers clenching the steering wheel, her knuckles white. “Nothing,” she said without feeling.
“That’s bull.”
“Please don’t …” she left her words hanging.
“Why?” He soothed, “I’ve seen this before you know, experienced it.”
She shook her head, “no.”
“Yes, I have.” He continued, “did he call you names and blame you for everything? Or was that just how it started? Emotional abuse is so easy.” He looked across to her searching her face, noticing the knitted eyebrows and the disbelief as she returned his examination. “Or was it worse,” she gulped as he continued his scrutiny, “did he hit you? Throw you against a wall? Burn you with a cigar? Physically torturing you.” Her eyes clouded with his continued observations. “I’m sure you can’t have forgotten this?” He asked delicately as he pulled up the arm of his sweater to reveal the burn on his forearm to her once more.
She leant forward, a finger slowly reaching tentatively towards him and tracing a circle over the smooth skin. “It was stairs,” she whispered, “and a cigarette.” She leant back into the seat, knocking on the interior light and taking a deep breath before reaching down to the button of her jeans, unhooking it and opening up the zip to reveal her still flat abdomen. She grabbed his hand, settling his fingers over the scar so that he too could survey it in much the same way as she had his. She swallowed back any more tears, “he threw me down the stairs,” she suddenly wailed, “he was the one that couldn’t give me a baby, but it was still my fault.”
John closed his eyes, nodding his head in understanding, realising that it was now his turn to give her emphatic comfort and support as she had done for him all of those years before. He stopped his appraisal of her scar, his hand roaming up over her body, delivering gentle ministrations to a breast and eliciting that feral response from her that he’d always loved. He closed the gap between them, his hand now cupping her cheek, his lips on hers, kissing her as passionately as he had the day he’d sent her away.
Her hands moved to his hips, her fingers deftly working around the waistband of his pants before undoing the fly and reaching inside to cup his growing arousal. He pulled back, “we’re not doing this in the car,” he growled excitedly, letting her go. “we’re not teenagers anymore, Claire,” he smirked, watching her make herself decent as he zipped up his fly. They were soon on the road, and even more quickly at her place, kissing and groping as they made their way to her porch. She dropped the keys and they fumbled together, finally getting the door unlocked and pushing their way inside.
After locking the door, he swept her up into his arms, her own reaching up behind his neck and locking herself to him until he’d lain her gently on the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he leant over her, his hand gently brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes searching hers, his smile mirroring her own lazy expression. She reached up, kissing him with as much passion as he had kissed her, pulling him down on top of her and encouraging him to help her undress. “Are you sure?” He’d asked, only too well aware that this was probably her first time with anyone since starting her divorce from the mayor.
She nodded, even though her hands were shaking slightly as she reached under his pullover, pushed it up his body and over his head. Her hands were soon at the waistband of his pants once again, undoing the zip and pushing the fabric over his hips and down his legs. If she didn’t stop this assault on him then he’d be done before they even really got started. “Claire, please slow down honey?”
She nodded again, embarrassment tinting her cheeks crimson but laying back on the bed so that John could regroup before continuing. She reached out, wanting to touch the battle scars that were still evident on his torso, his skin igniting even without the actual contact, her silent plea in her eyes. He nodded his acceptance, taking hold of her wrist and gently placing her hand over his heart, sucking in a breath as her fingers deftly traced the marks as she’d done so many times before, then stopped.
She sat up, pulling the silk t-shirt over her head and throwing it onto the floor before taking his hand and allowing him to discover the marks that she now owned. His hand settled over her belly, unbuttoning her jeans and settling on the burn that she had shown him earlier. “You said this was a cigarette?”
She nodded, tears welling at the corners of her eyes and threatening to overflow as she opened her mouth to speak, closing it as quickly again once she felt John’s kiss over the blemish. His fingers searched her skin, his mouth kissing and licking fault line after fault line as soon as he’d found them, kissing away the memory and the shame of how each one was earned, and learning how to trust him once more. The man that she should never have left in the first place. This man that she loved.
Reaching behind herself, she unhooked her bra, allowing it to fall away so that he could continue unhindered. Each time he found even the slightest wound he would continue the ritual he’d started. It was one she remembered doing herself, one she had initiated the first time they had made love on her eighteenth birthday. The last thing she had expected was an anxious John, but once he had removed his shirt she could understand why, his body had looked like it had survived an internment in a prison camp, the sheer number of welts causing her to cry as she delivered her comforts to him. Slowly, she had sought out each and every imperfection and covered them with her mouth in much the same way as John was doing that very instant. “Are you ok?” He asked.
“Yes,” she smiled, as he kissed his way down the valley between her breasts and over her stomach lingering once more over the cigarette burn before peppering the skin along the line of her panties. “Oh, yes,” she sighed.
Gently, he rolled the satin from her body, the last but one barrier to a union that had taken too long to come around. His mouth was soon at her core, covering her, his tongue expertly exploring her as if their last union had been the day before, exciting her in a way that she hadn’t been for so long, it was like she’d come home and nothing now could stop her from reaching the top, from calling out his name. Nothing except …
“No,” she said forcefully, her hands at John’s shoulders pushing him away from her as she sat up. “No. I can’t” She scooted under the covers pulling her knees to her chest, water cascading over her cheeks, “I’m not able to …”
“Shhh,” a stunned John soothed, “it’s ok.” He made a move to hold her, wanting to bring her close to him, but she hunched herself into the bed head, the covers pulled firmly around her frame so that he couldn’t get to her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She cried.
“For taking things too quickly.”
She wanted to touch him, wanted to have him embrace her, to make love to her, properly, like she remembered from her dreams, but she couldn’t. “It’s not your fault.”
John sighed, his eyes searching her face, analysing the situation. “Did he …” he left his sentence hanging.
“What?” Claire pleaded with him.
“Did he … rape … you?”
She nodded. Nothing else was needed. She watched as he silently made his way around the room, picking up their clothing before putting his own back on. She cursed the man that had sullied her, that had kept her from being able to enjoy what it was that John had done to her, was going to do to her before she’d stopped him. “I’m sorry.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out, a thumb delicately wiping away her tears, “you have no need to be.”
She caught his hand in her own, placing a kiss on his palm. “But I do.”
“No, Claire, you don’t. If anyone is to blame here then it’s me. I should never have sent you away.” He shook his head. “I have to go.”
“John, please, don’t go.” She pleaded.
“I have to, Claire. You have to learn to deal with this, and it would be better if I was out of the way.” He placed a kiss to her temple. “I want you, but I’m not going to pressure you into something you’re not ready to do.” He sighed.
“You don’t love me.” She wailed to his retreating figure.
Stopping short, he turned in the doorway, “but I do, Claire. I never stopped.” He said, wanting to go back to her and give her every comfort but he knew that if he did it wouldn’t do either of them any good. Turning once more, he strode quickly through the house and out onto the street, knowing full well that Claire was watching him from the bedroom window. He willed her to stop looking, he stopped himself from turning back, he walked away from her and out of view as quickly as he could, never stopping until he knew he was far enough away to be safe.
Upon finding a bus stop seat, he rested, his face in his hands as he began to weep for her, and for them. No one deserved such cruelty, especially someone like Claire. Ok, maybe she had been a bitch and a touch conceited on that Saturday detention twenty years ago but he had been lucky enough to see a side of her that wasn’t like that. They had quickly warmed to one another and the sexual chemistry between them was evident to anyone that ever saw them together. What had he done? Sending her off to college had been the most unselfish thing he had done in his life but to what cost? To see her married off to the mayor had near enough killed him at the time, but to find out that her husband had been so callous to her, was enough to make him want to hurt the man, very badly indeed.
He took his phone from his pocket and searched for the number he wanted. “Hey Sporto, we got any beer left? Ok, good, could you come and pick me up? Great, I’ll see you soon.” Switching off his phone and replacing it from where it had come, he sniffed, trying to sort himself our before Andy arrived. He looked back up the road from where he’d come, not sure what he hoped to see but realising that he needed to play things cool. He’d talk with Allison, Andy and Brian tonight, he’d decide what to do about Thursday but he wouldn’t approach Claire again until she wanted him to, even though he was desperate to go back to her and make her his again. Did that make him any better than her ex though? He couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting her and making her do something she quite clearly wasn’t able to. Yet.
He nodded, resolved on one point, “when you want me, I’m yours,” he said, getting up from his spot once he noticed Andy’s car turn the corner. As soon as the car stopped, his hand was on the handle, he whispered, “I love you, Claire,” before getting into the car and being driven away from her.
As they drove past her house, Andy watched his friend. “You ok?”
John turned to look out across the lake, “not really, no.” He sighed, before turning back to look at his friend. “It’s bad, Andy. Really bad. I’ll tell you about it once I’ve got a bottle in my hand.”
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Shadows of the Past