Page 74 of Holding Hope

She looked at me like she wanted to peel me open and finally see what was inside. And maybe she deserved that. But I’d spent years building walls — walls she was dangerously close to breaking.

“I just need time,” I said. “I need proof that you’ve changed⁠—”

“But I have, Clarke!”

“Would you please let me finish?” We were both shouting now. “I need you to stop interrupting me. Please.”

Avalon raised her hands. “Fine. Go ahead. Tell me all the things you need.”

“What I need?” I scoffed. “Let’s not forget you were the one who hurt me, Avalon.”

“And did I not make it up to you last night?” Her voice was loud and laced with desperation, the tips of her brows dipping together as frustration raced through her. “Was that not enough, Clarke?”

I laughed once—sharp and humorless. “It’s going to take more than an orgasm to fix what happened four months ago, let’s be serious.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I think we need to think clearly about this,” I said, lowering my voice an octave, trying to establish a sense of balance between us. “Last night was fun—great, actually—but I don’t think it can happen again.” My tongue felt heavy inside my mouth, like it had been carved of stone and weighed a thousand pounds.

Avalon nodded, defeat settling into her features. Her brows returned to their relaxed state and her hands loosely clasped each other in front of her stomach.

“It was a boundary that we never should have crossed⁠—“

“So, you do think it was a mistake.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to lie. But I couldn’t give her false hope either.

“Don’t you?” I whispered.

“Clarke,” she said softly, “you don’t really want my answer.”

She pushed away from the counter and walked toward her room. At the doorway, she paused.

“I’m not going to stop trying, you know.” She looked back at me, a tiny hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “You should know by now— I don’t give up that easily.”

I forced a half-smile. “I don’t expect you to.”

Delia was waiting for me in the house again. After this morning with Avalon, I would’ve done just about anything to distract myself, and my best friend was more than happy to oblige. She’d come armed with needles and a pile of old bows that needed fixing before Founder’s Day next week.

Founder’s Day always marked the beginning of the end of summer in Opal Springs. Soon the crops would need harvesting, and baby season would be upon us. Not just for the animals, according to Delia.

“Clarke? Hello? Texas to Clarke,” she laughed, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked out of my daze and forced a laugh. “Sorry. I’ve just been… out of it today.”

“I can tell,” she said, raising a brow. “You didn’t even have one snide comment about Camden Raikes and Lora Browning eloping and having a baby in the same year.”

She was trying not to pry too obviously, but I knew her too well. Delia was blunt to a fault—if her words didn’t give her away, her face always did.

But I didn’t want to talk about Avalon. Not when everything still felt raw and confusing. She was harder to read than Delia, but easier than my brother and me. She’d said all the right things, but I couldn’t seem to move past the pain and embarrassment from the last time we’d been together like that.

Maybe she had changed. But what if she hadn’t? What happened when the honeymoon phase wore off?

“I’m sure they had their reasons,” I said, threading my needle through an orange-and-white bow. “Who am I to judge?”

Delia froze mid-stitch. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Clarke King?”

I laughed weakly. “I just don’t think I should be judging anyone. Not right now.”