Thorns for Clover

*chapter 1* The rain in New York doesn’t fall. It attacks. Clover pulled her hoodie tighter and ducked into the 24/7 diner on 8th Ave. 2:17am. The neon sign buzzed `OPEN` in red, bleeding color onto the wet sidewalk. She just wanted coffee. Black. No conversation. An ordinary life. Away from Manhattan. Away from the past. That’s when he walked in. Nolan Mercer. Six-foot-something of anger in a wet black coat. Hair dripping onto the collar. Eyes that looked like he hadn’t slept in days — or like he’d been looking for someone. He didn’t ask. He just slid into the booth across from her and put a paper cup on the table. “Drink this. You’re shaking.” Clover stared at the coffee. Then at him. “You don’t know me.” “I know you’re cold,” he said. Voice rough, like gravel. “Drink.” And she did. Because there was something about the way he said it. *Chapter 2* The diner smelled like burnt coffee and rain. Clover sat in the same corner booth. Same hoodie. Same empty seat across from her. For two nights. Tonight, the door opened at 2:14am. Nolan. He didn’t look at anyone else. He walked straight to her table and sat down. “You’re late,” he said. Clover blinked. “I wasn’t waiting for you.” “Three minutes late.” His coat was still wet. He pushed a coffee toward her. Black. No sugar. “You like it like this.” She didn’t take it. “You don’t know what I like.” “I do.” The silence stretched. Outside, a taxi honked. Rain hit the window. “Why are you here every night?” Clover asked. Nolan leaned back. His jaw ticked. “Because you are.” He said it like it was obvious. Like the world rotated around that one fact. Clover wrapped her hands around the cup anyway. It was warm. “What’s your name?” He watched her drink. “You didn’t ask the first night.” “You didn’t offer.” A ghost of a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Nolan.” “Clover.” “I know.” She frowned. “How?” He didn’t answer. He just pulled off one black glove and placed it on the table between them. His hand was bare. Scarred across the knuckles. “Don’t walk home alone,” he said. Then he stood up and left. The glove stayed. Clover stared at it long after the door closed. *chapter 3* The glove was still on her table when her shift ended. Clover didn’t touch it. She left it there, paid for her coffee, and walked out into the rain. 4:02am. The streets of 8th Ave were empty. Just wet pavement and flickering streetlights. Footsteps behind her. Not close. Not far. She sped up. The footsteps matched her pace. “Clover.” Her name in that rough voice made her stop. Nolan stood under the awning of a closed bodega. Hands in his pockets. No glove on his right hand. “You forgot this,” he said, holding up the black glove. “I didn’t forget.” “You left it.” “Same thing.” He walked to her. Close enough that she could smell rain and something darker on his coat. He didn’t give her the glove. He held it. “You shouldn’t be out this late alone.” “I’m fine.” “New York isn’t fine at 4am.” Clover crossed her arms. “Are you following me?” Nolan’s eyes flicked to the street. Then back to her. “Yes.” The honesty knocked the air out of her. “Why?” “Because three nights ago you sat in my booth and looked like you wanted to disappear.” He paused. “And I didn’t want you to.” The rain kept falling. He finally held out the glove. She took it. It was still warm from his hand. “Walk,” he said. Not a question. They walked in silence for three blocks. He stayed on the street side of the sidewalk. Between her and the cars. When they reached her building, a brownstone with chipped paint and a broken buzzer, he stopped. “Go in,” he said. Clover hesitated at the door. “You’re not coming up.” “No.” His jaw tightened. “Not yet.” She went in. Locked the door. From her window on the second floor, she saw him. Still standing across the street. Watching her light turn on. Like if she didn’t, he’d make her, He didn’t tell her why she should take it. But he remembered how she took her coffee. And he was there the next night. And the night after that. *chapter 4* Clover didn’t sleep. She kept the curtains open. Kept watching the street. Nolan was still there until When the sky turned gray, he finally walked away. The next night, she was at the diner at 2:10am. He was already in the booth. Two coffees on the table. Both black. No sugar. “You’re early,” he said. “You’re always here first.” He slid one cup to her. His fingers brushed hers. Cold from the rain. Clover pulled her hand back. “Stop following me home.” Nolan took a sip of his coffee. “No.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” She stared at him. The scar on his knuckles. The dark under his eyes. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room. “Do I know you?” she asked. “No.” “You’re lying.” Nolan set the cup down. “Maybe.” The waitress came by. Didn’t ask. Just left the check and walked away. Like she was used to them. Clover wrapped both hands around the coffee. “I don’t want this.” “What?” “This. You. Sitting here every night like you own me.” Nolan leaned forward. His voice dropped. “Then tell me to stop. Say the words, Clover.” She opened her mouth. Closed it. Outside, thunder rolled. He noticed. “You’re scared of the rain.” “I’m not scared of anything.” “Liar.” He reached across the table and pushed a napkin toward her. Her hands were shaking. “Drink,” he said again. And she did. When she looked up, his eyes were on her mouth. Then her eyes. Then back to her hands. He stood abruptly. Threw cash on the table. “Come on.” “Where?” “Home. Before it gets worse.” She should have said no. But she followed him anyway. The rain started again the second they hit the sidewalk. *chapter 5* The rain hit hard. Nolan grabbed Clover’s wrist and pulled her under the awning of a closed shop. Water ran down his coat. Down his face. He didn’t seem to notice. “You’re soaked,” he said. “So are you.” His thumb was still on her wrist. He didn’t let go. A taxi splashed past, lighting the street yellow for one second. In that light, Clover saw it. The way he was looking at her. Like she might break. Like she might run. Like he wasn’t sure which one would hurt him more. “Let go,” she whispered. Nolan’s jaw flexed. He dropped her hand. “Walk.” They didn’t talk for two blocks. The only sound was rain on pavement and their shoes. When they reached her brownstone, Clover fumbled for her keys. Her hands were shaking again. Nolan took them from her. Unlocked the door. “Go in,” he said. She turned in the doorway. “Why do you care?” He stood in the rain. Not moving. “Because no one else does.” The door clicked shut behind her. Clover leaned against it. Her heart was beating too fast. From upstairs, she heard footsteps. Not hers. She froze. Someone was already in her apartment.