The diner smelled of bacon grease and strong coffee, the kind of comforting scent that used to make me feel safe. Not today.
Today it felt like the air was heavier, thicker — carrying whispers instead of warmth.
I could feel them before I heard them.
The eyes. The stares that darted away when I looked up.
"—heard she left her last town real sudden."
"—some trouble with the law, maybe."
"—don't know why Ethan keeps sticking his neck out for her."
Their words were quiet, clipped between bites of pancakes and sips of coffee, but they cut like glass all the same.
I gripped my mug until my fingers ached, keeping my gaze on the dark swirl of coffee as if it held an answer.
Madison was the picture of innocence at the counter — blond hair shining under the diner's overhead lights, shoulders relaxed, a soft smile curving her lips as she leaned toward Betty. Every movement she made felt too practiced, too precise. The way she laughed softly, the way she glanced over her shoulder just enough for me to catch it, the way she tilted her head like she was simply enjoying a friendly chat.
I knew better. I knew she was the one fanning the flames.
The bell above the door jingled, and a familiar voice cut through the room like the first crack of thunder before a storm.
"Claire."
Ethan.
I looked up and there he was, framed in the doorway with the sun pouring in behind him. His broad frame blocked half the light, his sharp gaze sweeping the room before locking onto me.
In an instant, I saw his jaw tighten. He'd felt it too — the shift in the air, the change in how people were looking at me.
He didn't waste time. His boots thudded against the diner's tile floor as he crossed the room and slid into the booth across from me.
"What happened?" His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, the kind of steel that warned trouble was brewing.
I kept my own voice even, but my grip on the mug didn't loosen. "Ask your friend Madison."
His eyes flicked toward the counter. Madison was still smiling, her posture soft, her hands folded daintily around her coffee cup. Sweet as sugar — to anyone who didn't know her.
But Ethan's hands curled into fists on the table.
Ethan's POV
I'd seen this act before. Madison could lace her words with honey and still make them cut deep. If she was smiling this much, she'd already started twisting the knife.
The diner was too quiet now — not silent, but full of the wrong kind of quiet. The kind where everyone pretends to mind their business while they listen for more.
I pushed away from the booth before I even realized I was standing. Claire's eyes followed me, a warning in them, but I kept moving toward the counter.
"Morning, Madison," I said, voice flat.
She turned on her stool, smile as bright as the sun over the plains. "Ethan. We were just talking about you."
"I bet you were."
A flicker crossed her face — not fear, not guilt. Just calculation. "Nothing bad. Just… concerned is all. Folks are saying Claire might not be… who she says she is."
The room seemed to lean in, every fork paused midair.
I took a step closer, my shadow falling over her. "And you'd know that how?"
Her lashes lowered, coy. "Oh, you know how towns are. Things get around."
"You mean gossip gets around," I said, my voice dropping. "And sometimes, it starts with the wrong person's mouth."
She tilted her head, the picture of wounded innocence. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Ethan. For everyone."
I felt the heat rise in my chest. Claire had been through enough without Madison poisoning the well.
"Next time you want to look out for someone," I said, "try doing it without stabbing them in the back first."
The silence in the diner was thick enough to choke on. Madison's smile faltered, just slightly, but she didn't drop it. She turned back to her coffee like she'd been dismissed — but I knew better. This wasn't over.
When I returned to the booth, Claire didn't look relieved. She looked… wary. Like she knew Madison's kind of fight didn't end with a single warning.
And she was right.