Cruel Intentions: Chapter 26

The change in Noah over the next few days was impossible to miss—he was there, but not really there. It was like he was stuck in his own head, chasing some thought or memory he couldn’t outrun. I felt it the second I got in the car with him: the air was heavier, tense. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. The way his eyes stayed glued to the road, avoiding me.

He didn’t know what to do and watching him wrestle with it hurt like hell. And fuck, I didn’t know how to help him.

Even when he took me to the lake that afternoon, his silence screamed louder than anything he could have said.

I sat with my sketchpad in my lap, trying to lose myself in drawing—the soft ripples of the water, the trees framing the shore—hoping I could capture the calm I wished he felt.

But every time I glanced at him stretched out on the blanket beside me, staring blankly at the sky, I could see it. The tight set of his jaw. The restless tapping of his fingers against his stomach. His thoughts running wild, dragging him somewhere I couldn’t follow.

I thought maybe that night he’d tell his dad. Tell Ken about his mom showing up, about how it was fucking him up inside. But he didn’t. And I get it. Ken was in a good mood, laughing, smiling like everything was perfect.

And Noah, being Noah, wouldn’t ruin that. He wouldn’t unload something so heavy, even when his dad asked if everything was okay—again and again.

But I saw it. I saw how much he wanted to say something. How hard he was fighting to hold it together, even as the cracks started showing.

Days passed, and that tension didn’t let up.

It’s been another grueling night on my feet, and I’m beyond relieved to clock out. My pockets are stuffed with tips, and there’s a quiet sense of accomplishment in knowing I’ve earned my keep for another day. The cool night air hits me as I step outside, and my eyes immediately find Noah’s car parked in its usual spot. He’s waiting for me, like he always does.

Despite all the shit he’s dealing with about his mother, we’ve settled into a routine. It’s simple, steady, and it feels so damn good to have a slice of stability in my life. For once, I’m part of something that isn’t crumbling under its own weight—no yelling, no shattered bottles, no drunken fathers waiting to explode.

My nerves, the ones that always have me on edge, feel like they’re settling for the first time in what feels like forever. All because I know I have somewhere safe to stay. Ken has reassured me more times than I can count that I’m welcome to stay as long as I want.

Those words… they mean everything. They give me the breathing room to focus on what’s important: keeping my grades up, securing my scholarship for next year, and holding on to the one thing I can’t imagine losing—Noah.

I head toward the car, my muscles aching with every step. Even though Noah’s expression is unreadable, just seeing him there, waiting for me, brings a strange sense of calm.

I slide into the passenger seat, and the soft glow of the interior light flickers on.

My gaze goes straight to him. His hair’s a mess, the way I love it, but not because he styled it that way. No—it’s from him running his hands through it over and over, like he always does when he’s overwhelmed.

I shut the door and lean toward him, pressing my lips to his. The warmth of his mouth against mine, the way his hands immediately reach up to pull me closer—it’s intoxicating.

In this moment, I could lose myself in him completely. But even as I savor the kiss, I can’t ignore the tension still radiating from his body. His shoulders remain rigid, his grip on me almost desperate, like I’m the only thing keeping him together.

It’s time.

Time to stop holding back. Time to say the thing he doesn’t want to hear but needs to.

He can’t keep going like this, carrying his mom’s bullshit, pretending it isn’t tearing him apart.

“Noah,” I say, my voice soft but steady as I reach out, my hand resting on his cheek. His skin is warm, but the tension beneath my palm feels like a wall he’s building brick by brick. “You need to decide. You can’t keep drowning in this, pretending you’re fine. It’s killing you, and I can’t just sit here and watch.”

His eyes snap to mine, and what I see there almost shatters me.

Conflict. Pain. Anger.

It’s a storm that’s been brewing for too long, and it’s finally reaching its breaking point.

“I know,” he mutters, his voice rough, low, almost like he’s admitting defeat.

“Then talk to me,” I plead, leaning closer, desperate to reach the part of him he’s trying so hard to lock away. “Please, Noah. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

He lets out a sharp, shaky breath, his jaw tightening as he fights against the words clawing their way out. Finally, he speaks, his voice a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

“I’m so fucking pissed at myself,” he starts, his tone bitter. “Because I don’t want anything to do with her. I’ve told myself that a thousand times. But then there’s this part of me… this stupid, pathetic part that just—” He breaks off, his voice cracking as he tries to push through. “This part of me that needs to know why. Why she fucking left. Why I wasn’t good enough for her to stay.”

His words hit hard, but he’s not finished.

“And what happens when I see her with them—those other kids—and she’s being a mom to them, Aub. A real mom. It’s like I never fucking mattered. Like I wasn’t enough for her to stick around for. How fucked up is that?”

My heart aches for him—for the boy he was, for the boy who deserved so much more than this crushing weight. I can hear the hurt in his voice, feel the confusion that’s been eating away at him for days. He’s unraveling right in front of me, and it’s fucking breaking my heart to see him like this, to see the pain he’s been carrying for so long.

“It’s not fucked up, Noah,” I say gently. “It’s human.”

“No, Aub” he snaps, his voice rising as the anger in him boils over. “It’s weak. It’s fucking weak, and I hate it. I hate that I care. I should be able to just shove her out of my head, like I’ve been doing for years. She doesn’t deserve a second of my time, but now she’s here, and—” His voice breaks again, and he turns his head away, like he can’t bear to look at me. “She’s stirring up all this shit I thought I buried,” he says quietly, his voice so raw it almost breaks me. “And I fucking hate her for it. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about her.”

I watch as his shoulders slump, the exhaustion etched into every inch of him. He’s a mess of anger and grief, and it’s tearing him apart.

“Then go see her,” I say firmly but softly, my words steady. “Go meet her and get the answers you need, Noah. Because you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve better than this.”

His head snaps toward me, his eyes locking on mine. There’s so much there—anger, confusion, fear. A storm raging behind those dark eyes, daring me to take it back. But I don’t.

“You think it’s that easy?” he says, his voice low but sharp, each word dripping with bitterness. “You think I can just show up, hear whatever bullshit excuse she has, and then what? Just move on.”

“No,” I reply, keeping my voice steady even as the weight of his pain presses down on me. “I don’t think it’ll be easy, Noah. I think it’ll fucking hurt. But you deserve to know. You don’t have to forgive her,” I continue, softening my tone as I lean closer. “You don’t have to keep her in your life after this. But you deserve the truth, Noah. You deserve to stop carrying all this shit around, wondering why you weren’t enough. Because you are enough.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as his eyes dart away from mine, locking onto the windshield.

“I’ll go with you if you want,” I add gently, my voice barely above a whisper. “But you need to do this. Not for her—for you.”

He exhales sharply, the sound more like a hiss than a breath. “I don’t know if I can, Aub,” he mutters. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear whatever bullshit excuse she’s got. Or if I even want to.”

“But maybe you need to,” I say, leaning closer, my words soft but firm. “Even if it’s bullshit. Even if it doesn’t fix anything. Maybe hearing it will help you finally let go.”

All night, Noah’s been off—silent, lost in his own head, barely speaking as we sat together in his room. Every time I tried to reach out, he’d just shake his head, run his hands through his hair, muttering words I couldn’t make out.

It felt like he was holding himself together with nothing more than sheer willpower, on the verge of falling apart.

And now, the day has come.

I sit in the passenger seat of Noah’s car, watching him grip the edge of the seat like it’s the only thing keeping him from shattering. His jaw is clenched so tight I can practically hear his teeth grinding. He hasn’t said a word since we parked, but the storm brewing in his eyes speaks volumes, saying everything his lips can’t.

From where we sit, I can see her—his mom.

Sitting at a bench under a tree, looking so goddamn calm, so perfect, like she hasn’t been nothing but a ghost in his life for years.

Two kids sit with her, a boy with his face buried in a game, and a girl, both laughing, carefree. They don’t know what this moment is doing to Noah. How seeing them so normal, so whole, is like a dagger twisting over and over into a wound that’s never really healed.

It’s so fucking clear from here—they’ve got the mother Noah never had. A mom who stayed. A mom who actually gave a shit. A mom who’s there for every little thing, every milestone, every goddamn moment. A mom who didn’t just fucking vanish without a trace.

And it pisses me off because Noah deserved that. He deserved that kind of love, not the hollow bullshit he got. The rage building inside me doesn’t even come close to what he must be feeling.

I glance over at him. He’s staring at them, his leg bouncing, his fingers twitching on the wheel like he wants to smash something.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say softly, breaking the silence that’s stretched too long between us. “We can just go. Fuck her, Noah. You don’t owe her anything.”

He doesn’t look at me, eyes still locked on the scene in front of us, but I see his throat tighten, the way he swallows hard. “I fucking hate this,” he mutters, voice rough with anger. “I hate that I’m here. But I need to know, Aub. I need to fucking know why she left. Why she stayed for them.”

The way he says them—it’s jagged, raw, like just speaking the word rips him open.

I reach over, my hand finding his arm, and I squeeze gently. “I’m here, Noah,” I tell him. “Whatever happens, I’m here with you.”

Finally, he looks at me and I see the pain in his eyes. Then, with a deep breath, he opens the door and steps out.

I follow him, stepping out of the car and walking beside him as we cross the park.

His body’s stiff, radiating tension, like he’s bracing for a blow that’s coming. I slip my hand into his, squeezing it, a silent promise that he’s not alone in this. His fingers curl around mine, tight As we get closer, I see her look up.

Her face lights up, relief washing over her as if she has been waiting for this moment—for this joyful reunion. She stands, her smile too bright, too forced, as she smooths her hands over the front of her jeans, like she’s trying to look put together.

The two kids beside her stop what they’re doing, their attention snapping to Noah, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

But Noah?

He’s a different story. He’s rigid, tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Every step he takes is heavy, like he’s walking into a warzone, the weight of everything he’s carried pressing down on him. I can see the storm inside him, brewing with anger and pain, and I can’t help but hope he makes it through this—hope he survives whatever the hell happens next.