Chapter 123 123
Annabeth's POV:
I felt him before I heard the knock.
The bond had been humming all morning, this low undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine. Kaelen was with his family, I knew that, and I'd been trying to give him space to process whatever was happening over there. But at some point something shifted: the humming got louder, messier, a tangle of feelings I couldn't quite separate: grief and relief and confusion and love and this aching, raw vulnerability that made my chest hurt.
Aunt Sarah had left an hour ago. Her boss at the library had called, something about her medical leave running out and needing to discuss her return date. She'd apologized like fifteen times before leaving, kept saying she could reschedule, but I'd practically shoved her out the door. She needed to get back to her life. We all did.
So when the knock came, I was alone in the living room pretending to watch TV and actually just sitting there feeling Kaelen's emotions crash around inside my head.
I opened the door and he was standing there looking wrecked.
Not physically, I mean, not injured or anything. But his eyes were red-rimmed and his jaw was doing that tight thing it did when he was trying not to fall apart. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, hey or hi or whatever normal people say when they show up at their girlfriend's house, but nothing came out.
I pulled him inside and wrapped my arms around him.
He made this sound, this broken exhale, and his whole body sagged against mine. His face buried in my neck and his arms came up to hold me back, too tight, almost painful, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he loosened his grip.
"I've got you," I said. "I'm here. I've got you."
Through the bond I felt everything he couldn't say. The conversation with his mom, whatever had happened there. The weight of five years finally starting to lift and how terrifying that was. The guilt of being relieved, the grief of time lost, the confusion of not knowing who he was supposed to be anymore.
I just held him. Stood there in my doorway holding him while he shook against me, not crying exactly but close to it, letting out something he'd been carrying for way too long.
"Sorry," he said after a while, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "I didn't mean to just show up and..."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious, I should've—"
"Kaelen. Shut up." I pulled back just enough to look at his face. His eyes were definitely wet now, though no tears had actually fallen. I reached up and touched his cheek, felt the warmth of his skin under my palm. "You never have to apologize for needing me. That's literally the whole point, right?"
He laughed, this watery sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "The whole point of what?"
"Us. The bond. Whatever this is." I took his hand and pulled him further inside, closing the door behind us. "My aunt's not here. She had to go talk to her boss about work stuff. So it's just us."
Something flickered in his expression. Not quite hope, not quite want, just... awareness. The same awareness I'd been carrying all morning, this low-grade hum of knowing we were finally alone, finally safe, finally able to breathe without looking over our shoulders.
"Just us," he repeated.
"Yeah. You want water? Tea? I think we have some of that gross instant coffee my aunt likes."
"I'm okay."
We stood there in my living room, the TV still playing something neither of us was watching, and I didn't know what to do with my hands. Which was stupid because I'd touched him a million times, we'd done way more than touch, but something about today felt different, somehow more fragile and more important at the same time.
"Come upstairs," I said. "I want to show you something."
He followed me up to my room. It looked the same as always, bed unmade because I never made it, books stacked on the desk, clothes on the chair that I kept meaning to put away. But there was one thing that was different now. One thing sitting on my nightstand that hadn't been there before.
Kaelen saw it immediately. Stopped in the doorway, his whole body going still.
"Is that..."
"My mom's diary." I walked over and picked it up, feeling the worn leather under my fingers. "I had it under my bed this whole time. In a box with some other stuff of hers. But after everything that happened, I don't know, it felt wrong to keep hiding it."
He came closer, his eyes fixed on the diary like it might bite him. "I remember this."
"Yeah. You translated it for me, when I didn't know anything and you were still pretending you could barely read it."
His jaw tightened. "Annabeth—"
"I'm not mad." I sat on the edge of the bed with the diary in my lap. "I was, for a while. But I get it now. You were trying to protect me. Trying to figure out how much I could handle." I looked up at him, still standing there like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to move. "But you don't have to pretend anymore. With me. About anything."
He sat down next to me. Close enough that our shoulders touched, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his body. "What do you want me to do?"
"Read it to me. For real this time. The parts you skipped, the parts you softened, all of it. I want to know what my mom actually wrote."