12.Between What We Know
1758 Words
Chapter 12 — Between What We Know
By Monday morning, I had convinced myself that going back to campus was a terrible idea.
Apparently, Caitlyn disagreed.
“You're going.”
I looked at her from across the kitchen.
“I don't remember asking.”
“You didn't.”
She took a sip of coffee and smiled.
“I decided for you.”
I stared at her.
She smiled wider.
“You're cute when you're annoyed.”
“I'm not annoyed.”
“You've been glaring at your coffee for five minutes.”
“Maybe it deserves it.”
She laughed.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Almost.
Then my phone vibrated against the table.
I didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was.
My body went rigid.
Caitlyn noticed immediately.
“Your father?”
I nodded.
The message was short.
I found something. We need to talk tonight. Alone.
I locked my phone.
Caitlyn watched me.
“What?”
“He wants to meet.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
She nodded slowly.
“I'll come.”
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“I need to do this myself.”
“Why?”
“Because it's my family.”
“And I'm your girlfriend.”
The words stopped me.
Girlfriend.
She had said it so casually.
Like there was nothing complicated about it.
Like we belonged together.
I looked away.
“Exactly.”
Caitlyn stepped closer.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I don't want you dragged deeper into this.”
“I already am.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
I couldn't.
Because the truth was simpler.
I was terrified.
Not of Marcus.
Not of my father.
I was terrified that if Caitlyn stayed close enough, she'd eventually see everything broken inside me and realize I wasn't worth the trouble.
She reached for my hand.
“You don't get to decide what I'm willing to risk.”
I looked down at our fingers.
“I don't want to lose you.”
Her expression softened.
“Then stop trying to push me away.”
Campus was louder than usual.
Students crowded the walkways, laughing, shouting across the quad, complaining about assignments and professors.
It was strange how normal everything looked.
People were worried about exams.
About parties.
About who kissed whom over the weekend.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out whether the man who raised me had lied about my mother for fifteen years.
Caitlyn bumped her shoulder against mine.
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too much.”
“I have a lot to think about.”
“Then think about this.”
She pointed toward the coffee shop.
“Chocolate croissant.”
I looked at her.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You're distracting me with pastries?”
“It's working.”
It was.
I smiled despite myself.
We walked toward the café together.
And then someone called her name.
“Caitlyn!”
She turned.
A guy from one of her classes jogged toward us, a notebook tucked beneath his arm.
I recognized him.
Ethan.
I'd seen him around campus.
Too confident.
Too comfortable.
And apparently too interested in my girlfriend.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at Caitlyn. “I wanted to ask if you got the notes from Friday.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Could you send them to me?”
“Sure.”
His eyes dropped to our joined hands.
Then back to her.
“Oh.”
Something about that single word irritated me.
Caitlyn noticed.
“Ethan, this is Noah.”
Ethan extended his hand.
“Yeah. I've heard about you.”
I looked at his hand.
Then at him.
“I doubt it was anything good.”
Caitlyn sighed.
“Noah.”
Ethan laughed awkwardly.
“I was actually going to ask Caitlyn if she wanted to study together before the exam.”
“You can ask her.”
“I just did.”
I looked at Caitlyn.
She seemed amused.
“I'll let you know.”
Ethan nodded.
“Cool. See you in class.”
He walked away.
I watched him go.
Caitlyn squeezed my hand.
“You're staring.”
“I'm not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“He likes you.”
She laughed.
“And?”
“And nothing.”
“Then why do you look like you want to punch him?”
“I don't.”
“You're jealous.”
I stopped walking.
“No, I'm not.”
She turned to face me.
“You are.”
“Caitlyn—”
“You don't get to tell me who I can talk to.”
“I didn't.”
“You didn't have to.”
People were moving around us, but suddenly I barely noticed them.
“I trust you,” I said.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then act like it.”
Her words hit harder than they should have.
I lowered my voice.
“I don't trust him.”
“You don't even know him.”
“I know enough.”
She shook her head.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
“What?”
“You keep saying you don't want to control me, but every time another guy talks to me, you act like I'm doing something wrong.”
“I never said you were doing anything wrong.”
“Then stop making me feel like I am.”
I ran a hand through my hair.
“This isn't about you.”
“That is the problem, Noah.”
She stepped closer.
“Everything with you is about what you're feeling, what you're afraid of, what happened to you.”
I froze.
She immediately softened.
“I know you're hurting.”
“Then don't make this harder.”
“I'm not making it harder.”
Her eyes met mine.
“I'm asking you to let me be your girlfriend without treating me like something you need to protect by pushing me away.”
I didn't have an answer.
Because she was right.
And I hated that.
She walked away.
“Caitlyn.”
She stopped but didn't turn around.
I caught up with her.
“I’m sorry.”
She finally looked at me.
“For what?”
“For being jealous.”
A small smile touched her lips.
“Thank you.”
I exhaled.
“And for being an asshole.”
“That part I already knew.”
I laughed.
She did too.
The tension finally broke.
I pulled her closer.
“Still mad?”
“A little.”
“How little?”
She pretended to think.
“Maybe one kiss.”
I smiled.
“Only one?”
“Don't push your luck.”
I kissed her.
Slowly.
Right there in the middle of campus.
When we pulled apart, she whispered, “Better?”
“Much.”
“Good.”
She took my hand again.
And for the next few hours, we tried to pretend we were normal college students.
We went to class.
We complained about assignments.
She stole half my lunch.
I stole her coffee.
She threatened to murder me when I touched her fries.
It was ordinary.
And I loved it.
Maybe because ordinary was something I'd never appreciated until I realized how quickly it could disappear.
That evening, we went back to my house.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Caitlyn sat beside me on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her.
“You're quiet.”
“So are you.”
“I'm waiting for you.”
I turned toward her.
“For what?”
“For you to stop pretending you're okay.”
I laughed softly.
“I don't know how.”
“Then don't.”
She moved closer.
Her hand touched my cheek.
I closed my eyes.
That simple touch undid something in me.
I leaned into her palm.
“I hate this,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I hate feeling like I don't know my own life.”
“You don't have to figure it all out tonight.”
“What if I never do?”
“Then we'll figure it out one piece at a time.”
I opened my eyes.
“We?”
She smiled.
“Yes. We.”
I kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was afraid that moving too fast would break the moment.
Her fingers slipped into my hair as she kissed me back.
The world outside disappeared.
There was no Joseph.
No Marcus.
No photograph.
No dead mother.
Just Caitlyn.
Her warmth.
Her heartbeat.
The way she held onto me as if she wasn't afraid of what she might find.
I pulled her closer.
She rested her forehead against mine.
“You're shaking.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I want this too much.”
Her eyes softened.
“Then stop being afraid of wanting me.”
I kissed her again.
This time, there was more urgency behind it.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I pulled her against me.
When we finally separated, both of us were breathless.
She smiled.
“You know what your problem is?”
“What?”
“You think you have to carry everything alone.”
“And you think you can fix everything.”
“No.”
She touched my chest.
“I just don't want you carrying it alone.”
I covered her hand with mine.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone vibrated.
The moment shattered.
I looked at the screen.
Joseph.
Come now. I found her letters.
My heart stopped.
Caitlyn saw my expression.
“What?”
I stood.
“He found my mother's letters.”
She got up immediately.
“Then we're going.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“You're really bad at this.”
“At what?”
“Understanding that I'm not leaving.”
I stared at her.
She stepped closer.
“You said you didn't want to lose me.”
“I don't.”
“Then let me stay beside you.”
I reached for her hand.
This time, I didn't argue.
“Okay.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Good.”
I grabbed my jacket.
As we stepped toward the door, I looked back at the house.
Something told me that whatever Joseph had found would change everything.
Again.
And this time, I wasn't facing it alone.
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