PINK. His first memorable encounter with her jeep wrangler. The taste of strawberry McFlurry, as they comforted each other under bright, neon arches. A sprig of pink flowers, redolent with a sweet scent. A second, warmer, Christmas celebration, a motherly presence when he desperately missed his. A warm, handmade knit that offered a quiet comfort.
THEN • Their first meeting always reminded him of a comedy movie - the screech of tires across the asphalt, the grill of her sunflower yellow jeep stopping mere inches from his face. (He would have sued, were it anyone else.) What followed was a friendship he never predicted, something quiet, soft, and gentle. And though they've only visited a handful of times - their standing holiday invitation to Clem's home in Wales was something all Sinclair siblings deeply cherished.
NOW • This is the last place she should be, this den of wolves, with a heart as tender as hers. Their shared breakdown in the parking lot of a McDonalds only solidified the fact in his mind, and while he knows Clem has her many champions, he is - at heart - a protector, a martyr.
