The uncle

chapter 14

Betty didn’t think — she just moved. Her footsteps were nearly silent on the cold hallway tiles, but inside her chest, her heartbeat was a riot. She didn’t hesitate, pushing open Chris’s door without knocking, her hand clenching the knob so tight her knuckles ached.

He was at his desk, back to her, headphones on. He turned at the sound of the door, sliding one ear off with a flicker of surprise he tried to hide.

“Seriously?” he muttered. “We’re doing this now?”

“Yes,” she snapped, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her with a final click that felt like sealing a cage. “I’m done playing whatever twisted game you think this is.”

Chris swiveled to face her, leaning back in his chair with infuriating calm, arms resting lazily on the armrests as if he had all the time in the world. But there was something in his eyes — quick, vulnerable — before he masked it again.

“Then stop playing,” he drawled.

“I’m not the one kissing people one day and shoving them away the next!” Her voice cracked under the strain of keeping it steady. “I’m not the one pretending it meant nothing just to stay in control.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Control? You think this is about control?”

“It always is with you,” she hissed, moving closer, the scent of his cologne sharp and disorienting. “You flirt, then you freeze. You act jealous, then deny it. And now you’re parading some girl around school like you didn’t—”

“Like I didn’t what, Betty?” he cut in, voice low and dangerous. “Like I didn’t kiss you? Like I didn’t want to?”

She flinched, her pulse hammering so hard she thought he might hear it.

Chris stood, chair scraping the floor, and stepped closer until she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest. “Let me help you out,” he said, softer, but no less fierce. “I did kiss you. And yeah, maybe I meant it more than I should’ve. But it’s still wrong.”

“Because of Dean?” she forced out, arms folded tight against her ribs.

Chris’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek flickering. “No,” he breathed, almost painfully. “Because of you. Because we’re practically family, Betty. Your mom, my brother — you think they’d ever be okay with this?”

She felt her stomach twist, desperation catching fire inside her. “We’re not blood related, Chris,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “You know that. It doesn’t have to be this wrong.”

He exhaled sharply, looking at her with something close to heartbreak. “Betty, you finally have a family that cares about you. That means everything to you — I know it does. And I care about you too much to be the one who ruins that.”

His words left her raw, throat tight, a thousand protests dying on her tongue.

He swallowed, voice nearly shaking. “I meant the kiss. Every second of it. But if this goes any further, it will blow up everything you’ve tried to build here. I can’t be the reason you lose that.”

His words sliced through her, so precise they hurt.

She lifted her chin, refusing to let him see her break. “I’m warning you, Chris,” she said, voice trembling just once before she steadied it. “Stay out of my way. And stop messing with my head.”

For a moment they just stared at each other, breath shallow, the air between them thick as smoke.

Then he gave a cold, brittle smile. “Gladly.”

Betty turned and stormed out, the echo of the door slamming behind her chasing her down the hall. Her heart was still racing — not from rage, but from how desperately she’d wanted to stay.

---

She flung her own bedroom door shut and leaned against it, chest heaving like she’d sprinted a mile. The confrontation had felt righteous in the moment, almost heroic. But now, with silence pressing in around her, her anger started to dissolve, unraveling thread by thread into something far more dangerous.

Confusion. Want. Guilt.

She wrapped her arms around herself and crossed to the window, yanking the curtains shut over the driveway view — the same view where Chris had once stood, watching her kiss Dean. Her stomach twisted at the memory.

How did he always do this to her? Get inside her head, leave marks she couldn’t scrub away? His voice replayed in her mind, raw and unvarnished: You finally have a family. I can’t be the one to wreck that.

She hated him for saying it. Hated herself more for believing it.

Peeling off her sweater with shaking hands, she sat on the edge of the bed. The neat row of new clothes in the closet mocked her, a reminder of a life she didn’t recognize — a life that was supposed to be safe, but felt like a cage.

She had built walls. Tall, thick, merciless walls. But somehow Chris kept finding the cracks. And the worst part was, he didn’t even seem to want in. He just liked to watch her crumble.

There was a knock at the door.

Her heart skipped.

She swallowed, hoping for a moment — then scolded herself for the hope.

But when she opened it, it was Tasha, hoodie on, holding two sodas and a raised brow.

“I saw you stomping down the hallway like a hurricane,” Tasha said, stepping in without waiting. “Figured it was a ‘Betty-needs-backup’ kind of night.”

Betty exhaled, grateful for the familiar voice. “He’s such an ass.”

“Chris?”

Betty nodded, lowering her eyes.

Tasha handed her a soda and flopped onto the bed with a practiced sigh. “Betty, I’m gonna say this once and then shut up — you don’t hate him.”

Betty tried to roll her eyes but it felt weak. “Yes. I do.”

“You want to hate him,” Tasha corrected, a knowing smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. “Big difference.”

“I just… I don’t know who I am around him.”

Tasha hugged her close.

The next morning, Betty stepped out into the driveway, the morning air crisp against her skin. She wrapped her arms tighter around her books, ignoring the leftover ache in her chest from the night before.

Chris was already outside, leaning casually against his car, keys spinning around one finger. When he saw her, he straightened, trying for a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he called out. “The driver’s running late. I can give you a ride.”

She met his gaze, steady but cold. “I told Henry not to come today,” she said, voice clipped. “Dean is taking me.”

Chris’s smile faltered, just a breath. “Dean?”

“Yeah.” Betty shifted her bag on her shoulder, chin lifting. “We’re going together.”

He tried to cover the flash of disappointment with a careful nod. “Right. That makes sense.”

Before either of them could say more, Dean’s car pulled up at the curb. The window rolled down and his grin was so wide, it almost hurt to look at.

“Hey, Betty!” Dean called, leaning over the console. “Ready to roll?”

Betty forced a smile. “Yeah.”

She moved toward the car, every step heavy, ignoring the way Chris’s shoulders seemed to tighten behind her.

Dean hopped out to open the passenger door for her, practically buzzing with excitement. “I was thinking we could grab lunch off-campus, just us,” he said, beaming.

Betty could feel Chris’s eyes on her, burning holes through her back.

“Sounds perfect,” she replied, loud enough for Chris to hear.

Dean glanced back and offered Chris a polite wave before sliding behind the wheel, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension.

As Betty climbed into the passenger seat, she risked one last glance toward Chris. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes — something hollow and resigned — made her stomach twist.

Stay out of my way, she reminded herself, looking away as Dean pulled off with a happy laugh.

The lunchroom was alive with noise — chatter, clattering trays, the hum of a thousand teenage dramas colliding at once. Betty sat across from Dean at one of the corner tables, picking at her food without tasting it. Dean, meanwhile, talked animatedly about a soccer match, barely pausing for breath.

“…and if we win this weekend, we’re through to the finals,” he was saying, eyes bright. “You should come watch!”

Betty nodded automatically, pretending to listen. Every nerve in her body felt stretched thin, aware of every door, every shifting shadow — waiting.

Then, as if conjured from that anxious place in her chest, Chris walked in. His eyes found her immediately, pinning her to the spot. Something raw and urgent lived in his expression.

Betty’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Chris cut across the cafeteria with a single-minded intensity that made people pause and stare. He reached the table, barely sparing Dean a glance.

“Betty, we need to talk,” he said, voice low but unyielding.

Dean blinked. “Hey, Chris—”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Betty interrupted quickly, forcing a bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We’re eating.”

Chris ignored that, jaw set. “Outside. Now.”

“No,” Betty snapped, the word echoing sharper than she meant. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

Chris’s eyes flashed, frustration flaring, then he reached for her wrist. The contact was electric — a spark that made her jump even as she tried to pull away.

“Let go,” she hissed, panic and anger twisting together in her chest.

He didn’t. “Please,” he gritted out, voice rough, “come outside with me. Now.”

Dean started to rise, confused. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Betty lied again, cheeks burning with embarrassment. She could feel everyone watching.

Chris tugged her wrist more firmly, just enough to get her moving. Betty stumbled to her feet, swallowing the knot in her throat as she let herself be led out of the cafeteria, unwillingly, every eye following them.Outside, the air felt colder, biting at her skin. Chris let go of her wrist at last, but stayed close enough that she couldn’t escape.

“What the hell was that?” she snapped, hugging her arms around herself.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wild, unsteady. “I couldn’t stand watching you with him,” he said, voice raw. “Betty, I can’t do this. I can’t pretend—”

“Pretend what?” she shot back. “That you don’t get to break me apart whenever you feel like it? That you don’t get to pick and choose when I matter?”

He stepped closer, voice desperate, about to spill over. “It’s everything, Betty. You’re—”

“Hey!”

They both turned sharply. Dean was striding out of the cafeteria, jaw tight, eyes narrowed at Chris.

“Betty,” he said firmly, sliding between them, protective and certain. “You okay?”

She swallowed, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m fine,” she managed.

Dean looked Chris dead in the eye, shoulders squared. “Whatever this is, it needs to stop. Betty is with me now. You need to respect that.”

“Fine,” Chris said hoarsely, stepping away, eyes dark and stormy. “If that’s how it is.”

And he walked off.