Dangerous, risky games that might cost me my life.
“I was following Katie,” Noah said.
I closed my eyes, and my breath started coming in rapid gasps, so fast that I was afraid I was going to have a panic attack. I hadn’t had a panic attack since those last days with my dad, since he was lying in bed dying, and I was there with him, all alone, not sure what to do. I took in a long deep breath through my nose, counting to three beats, then holding it for three beats before exhaling for three beats. It helped a little bit, but as soon as I was stopped counting, my breath started coming fast again.
“Charlotte, please,” Noah said. “Let me get you some water. Sit down. You need to let me explain – ”
“Don’t,” I said. “No. I’m done with this.”
Noah stood there, his eyes boring into mine, blazing with fury. And something else, something right below the surface.
Hurt.
He was hurt I didn’t trust him, that I didn’t believe him. But I was done playing these crazy games.
Noah Cutler was a murderer.
And I needed to stay far, far away from him.
***
The day had turned overcast and dreary, and I walked fast toward the subway, ignoring Noah’s car, which was parked in front of his apartment.
I ducked into the bodega on the corner and bought myself a cheap phone charger, the kind that would probably last me two days before breaking, and a bottle of water. As soon as I was out on the sidewalk I opened the bottle and gulped down half of it. A second later, my mouth was dry again, my lips like sandpaper, my tongue thick and heavy.
My heart was still beating rapidly, even faster now that I’d been walking, and I could feel a tiny bit of sweat starting to pool in the small of my back. I wasn’t wearing a coat, but I was still hot, even though the day wasn’t particularly warm.
I drank some more water and forced myself to slow my pace as I walked. There was a sharp pain starting in my side, almost like a stitch, and even though I’d slowed down it began to take over my entire stomach, fading and bleeding into a dull ache.
As I stepped down into the subway station, I felt suddenly claustrophobic, like I was stepping into a coffin. Get it together, Charlotte, I told myself. Relax.
A second later, I was being swallowed up by the crowd as we filed into the subway car. I took a seat in between a woman with a yellow umbrella and a college kid wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The ride to campus was at least twenty minutes, but I had no memory of it when I stepped out of the car. It was like my mind was disconnected from reality.
When I got to campus, I realized I was going to have to go to class tomorrow. I had this whole life, this whole world that I’d worked so hard to build – getting good grades in high school, getting good grades in college, getting into law school. Up until a couple of days ago, school and the law had been my life. But then I had become consumed with Noah.
Was I becoming one of those women? The politicians’ wives you saw standing by them even as they admitted they’d been hiring prostitutes or posting naked pictures of themselves all over the internet. The women who married men in jail, who stood by their husbands and insisted they could never kill someone even when the evidence proved otherwise.
There was a thin line between standing by someone you knew wasn’t guilty, and getting so consumed with a man that you couldn’t see the truth. There was also a big difference between me and those women. Those women had been married to those men, had built lives with them, had houses and children and photo albums full of memories. They had money and power and success at risk -- their whole lives would implode if their husbands were found guilty of whatever charges had been lobbied against them.
I had nothing at stake here. Noah and I hadn’t built anything except a sexual relationship. The fact that he’d agreed to go with me to my stepfather’s birthday party, which at the time had seemed like such a huge victory, now seemed ridiculous and petty. A birthday party? That wasn’t any kind of promise. That was a joke.
I was done.
Done with Noah Cutler.
I felt like I kept saying that to myself, and every time, I’d get swept back up. But not this time. This time it was real. I felt like a junkie finally coming out of a haze. I was seeing my drug for what it really was – a man who had nothing to offer me except heartache and lies.
I ran up the stairs in front of Hinton Hall, then headed toward Professor Worthington’s office. I paused outside the door, wondering if I should tell Professor Worthington I wasn’t going to be able to work on the case anymore. Ever since I’d been working with Noah, my whole life had turned upside down.
Maybe it was time to cut my losses and move on.