Chapter 17 17
Annabeth's POV:
Two days after Kaelen translated my mother's diary, I was lying in bed at eleven PM scrolling through our text thread for maybe the fifteenth time. There wasn't much there, just "thanks again" from me after I left his house and "no problem, let me know if you need anything else" from him.
Professional and distant. Nothing that explained why I couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd looked at me when he said "I have secrets too," or why that admission made my chest feel tight instead of scared.
I should have been studying. I had a Chemistry exam on Friday and I'd barely looked at the material. But instead I was here, in my pajama shorts and an old T-shirt from some 5K my aunt made me run three years ago, staring at my phone like it would magically tell me what to do.
The rational part of my brain, the part that liked facts and evidence and things that made sense, kept saying this was stupid. He was just a guy. A guy who'd helped me translate an impossible diary written in a language that shouldn't exist, sure, but still just a guy. Getting obsessed over a few conversations and one almost-kiss was ridiculous.
Except it wasn't just that.
It was the way my body reacted when he was near, that electric pull that made no sense. It was how he'd looked at the diary and I knew, I absolutely knew, he was lying about struggling to read it. It was "I have secrets too" said in that voice that made it clear his secrets connected to mine in ways I didn't understand yet.
I typed out a message: "Hey, how are you?"
Deleted it. Too generic.
Tried again: "Can't stop thinking about what you said the other day."
Deleted that too. Way too intense.
"So I've been going crazy trying to figure out what you meant about having secrets."
Delete.
God, why was this so hard? I talked to people all the time. Mara and I texted constantly and I never agonized over every word like this.
But Mara didn't make my skin feel too hot or my heart do that stupid jumping thing.
I finally settled on: "Hey. You awake?"
Sent it before I could overthink it more.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
"Yeah. Can't sleep."
My heart definitely did that jumping thing.
"Me neither," I typed. "Keep thinking about stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
I chewed my lip, debating how honest to be. Then decided screw it, what did I have to lose?
"The diary. What you told me about it. What you didn't tell me."
The dots appeared and disappeared twice before his response came.
"I told you what I could."
"I know. I'm not mad or anything. Just... curious I guess."
"Dangerous thing, curiosity."
"Tell me about it. Got me into this whole mess in the first place."
"You regret it?"
Did I? Two weeks ago my biggest problem was whether I'd picked the right major. Now I knew my father wasn't human, I might not be entirely human either, and I was developing feelings for someone who clearly had his own supernatural situation going on.
"No," I typed. "Weirdly, no. I'd rather know the truth, even if it's complicated."
"Most people would rather stay ignorant. Safer that way."
"Are you trying to talk me out of wanting to know more?"
"Maybe. For your own good."
"Let me decide what's good for me."
The dots took longer this time.
"Fair enough. So what do you want to know?"
Everything, I wanted to say. But I started smaller.
"How are your classes going?"
I could practically feel his confusion through the phone. He'd probably expected me to interrogate him about secrets and supernatural stuff, not ask about homework.
"Fine? Literature is boring but manageable. You?"
"Chemistry is kicking my ass. I thought I liked science but this professor makes everything sound like the most boring thing ever invented."
"Want help? I'm decent at chemistry."
"I thought you were a literature guy."
"I contain multitudes."
I smiled at my phone like an idiot.
We texted back and forth about classes, about the terrible cafeteria food, about whether the library was actually haunted like some students claimed. Surface stuff, easy stuff, the kind of conversation that should have been boring but wasn't because it was him.
Around midnight the conversation shifted.
"Can I ask you something personal?" he sent.
My stomach did a little flip. "Sure."
"Your mom. What was she like?"
I stared at the question for a long moment. People didn't usually ask about my mom. They knew she was dead and that made them uncomfortable, so they avoided the topic entirely.
"I don't really know," I typed. "She died when I was born. Everything I know about her comes from my aunt or old photos."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Can't miss what you never had, right?"
Except that was a lie. I did miss her, missed the idea of her, missed having a mom when everyone else did.
"I get it," he sent. "My parents are gone too. Different circumstances but same result."
"What happened? If you don't mind me asking."
The dots appeared and disappeared several times.
"They disappeared five years ago. Just... gone one day. We don't know if they're dead or in hiding or what."
"God, Kaelen. That's awful."
"Yeah. It's why I have to take care of Lucian and Marlen. I'm all they have."
Something in my chest ached reading that. He was twenty-two, just a few years older than me, and he'd been responsible for two kids for five years.
"That's a lot to carry," I sent.
"Someone has to."
"Doesn't mean it's not hard."
"No. It's hard. But they're worth it."
I shifted in bed, pulling my blanket up higher. The clock on my nightstand said 1:47 AM. I should sleep. I had an eight AM class.
But I didn't want to stop talking to him.
"Do you ever wish things were different?" I asked. "Like you could just be a normal college student without all the responsibility?"
"Every day. But wishing doesn't change anything."
"No. I guess it doesn't."
We kept texting. He told me about Lucian's obsession with video games, about Marlen's scary-smart brain that made her seem older than thirteen. I told him about Mara and her conspiracy theories, about how my aunt meant well but sometimes felt more like a warden than family.
At some point I rolled onto my stomach, the phone propped on my pillow in front of my face. The screen cast blue light across my sheets and I was aware, distantly, that my eyes were getting heavy.
"You still awake?" he sent at 2:53 AM.
"Barely. You?"
"Yeah. Probably should sleep."
"Probably."
But neither of us said goodnight.
"Thanks for talking," I sent. "I needed this."
"Me too. It's nice talking to someone who... I don't know. Gets it."
"Gets what?"
"Being different. Having secrets. Feeling like you can't be yourself around most people."
My heart did that thing again, that stupid flutter that had nothing to do with medical conditions and everything to do with him.
"I get it," I typed. "More than you know."
"I think I'm starting to figure that out."
At 3:17 AM he sent: "Sleep well, Annabeth."
"You too."
I meant to plug my phone in and actually sleep. Instead I fell asleep with it still in my hand, the screen dark, my thumb resting over his last message.
The dream came immediately.
I was flying again, the wind cold on my face and my wings, huge and powerful, beating against the night air. The ground was far below, Emberdale reduced to scattered lights in the darkness. And beside me, matching my pace perfectly, was the golden dragon.
He turned his head to look at me and his eyes were that blue-green I knew, but they shifted to molten gold as he watched. Something in my chest pulled tight, that same feeling I got when Kaelen was close, and I understood without words that we were connected, that we'd always been connected, that this was right in a way nothing else in my life had ever been right.
We flew together in perfect sync, diving and climbing and banking through clouds that felt cold and wet against my scales. And when I opened my mouth and felt the heat building in my throat, ready to release in red-hot flame, I wasn't scared.
I woke up gasping, my sheets kicked off, my T-shirt soaked through with sweat again. The clock said 6:12 AM. My phone was on the floor where I must have dropped it in my sleep.
I picked it up and typed without thinking: "Want to walk today after classes?"
His response came while I was in the shower, just three letters that made me smile so hard I felt stupid: "Yes."