Chapter 12 - The Truth on Her Face

Noah's POV

I knew something was wrong the second I saw her.

Ava stepped outside that evening like she was made of glass--careful, quiet, eyes unfocused. The air felt different around her, heavier, like she was carrying something she didn't know how to hold.

And when her gaze finally met mine?

My stomach dropped.

She knew.

She had to know.

Jacob had left about an hour earlier, slamming the door behind him. I'd been sitting on the edge of my bed since then, trying not to think about the conversation we'd had--and failing miserably.

Now Ava was crossing the yard toward the trash bin, clutching a bag like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

"Ava?" I said, stepping out onto my porch before I could stop myself.

She froze.

Not dramatically. Not fearfully. Just...suddenly.

Like hearing my voice hit something inside her she didn't want touched.

She turned slowly. "Hi."

Her voice was softer than usual, too controlled. Ava was many things—funny, stubborn, sweet—but she'd never been good at hiding how she felt.

Right now, she was hiding everything.

I took a few steps closer. "You okay?"

She nodded automatically. "Yeah. Just tied."

Lie. Big, blinking, neon lie.

I moved closer, stopping a respectful distance away even though every part of me wanted to close it.

"You seem off."

Her breath hitched—barely, but I caught it.

"I'm fine," she said again.

But her eyes flickered, searching mine like she was trying to see if I'd say something. Anything.

Like she already knew the truth and was waiting for me to confirm it.

And then it hit me. Hard.

Jacob had been loud.

Too loud.

Ava had been home.

She must've heard.

My chest tightened. "Ava... did something happen?"

She swallowed. "No. Nothing happened."

But her voice trembled.

I took one step closer. "Ava."

She looked up—finally—and the look in her eyes was enough to silence every thought in my head.

She knew.

The feelings I'd been trying to bury, ignore, deny—she'd heard them. My words. My voice. All of it.

Her next breath shoock.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.

My heart stopped.

She did know.

I opened my mouth... but nothing came out. What was I supposed to say? That I'd been trying not to want her for years? That every time she looked at me now, I forgot how to breathe? That I hadn't said anything because it was wrong, because Jacob would kill me, because she deserved someone who wasn't...me?

She took a tiny step back. "Noah..."

Hearing my name on her voice was torture.

"I wasn't supposed to feel anything," I finally said, voice barely steady. "I didn't want you to know."

"Why?" she whispered.

Because your brother would never forgive me. Because I'd promised. Because I'm not supposed to want you. Because I do.

All of those answers lived inside me. None of them made it out.

"Because it makes everything harder," I said quietly.

Her eyes softened. "For you... or for me?"

I froze.

She didn't look angry. She didn't look confused.

She looked hurt. And hopeful.

That combination undid me.

"Ava." Her name left me like an apology and a confession all in one breath. "I didn't want you to find out like that."

She blinked quickly, like she was trying not to cry. "But it's true, isn't it?"

Silence.

The kind of silence—slowly, carefully—like moving toward something fragile.

Her breath caught again.

"Yes," I said finally. "It's true."

The words hung between us, shimmering, dangerous, and real.

Ava's lips parted just slightly, eyes wide with something I couldn't name, something I'd dreamed of seeing and dreaded seeing at the same time.

She whispered, "What do we do now?"

I exhaled, every wall I had cracking a little more.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I know what I want to do."

Her heartbeat practically echoed in the space between us.

Before either of us could move—before the moment could break or become something irreversible--

A porch light flicked on next door.

Jacob.

Ava and I jumped apart instantly.

Her face flushed. My chest burned.

She backed toward her door. "I—I should go."

I nodded once, too aware of Jacob's shadow on the porch.

"Goodnight, Noah," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Ava."

She slipped inside, leaving the door to click softly behind her.

Leaving me standing in the dark, pulse pounding, knowing one terrifying truth:

There was no going back now.

Because she knew. Because I said it. Because she didn't look away.

And because wanting her was no longer something I could pretend I didn't feel.