All the Little Lights(84)

The fact that Catherine had finally told me even an ounce of the truth gave me hope, and as I held her in my arms, I told myself that in the end, I could love her enough that she would choose me. If she didn’t, I wasn’t sure I could pack up my car for college and leave her here alone again to fend for herself.

I wanted her to rest, and I also wanted her to talk to me about our future. I stayed quiet while my compassion and greed warred it out with each other, waiting for one to win.

“Elliott?” Catherine whispered.

My relief was palpable. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. Not by me, not by anyone.”

“You’re the only one who could,” I said, feeling a burning in my chest. I had no idea what she might say next.

Catherine buried her head in my chest and squeezed me tight. “What you said, about how you know you love someone . . . what if . . . what if they’re the most important thing, but there are things out of your control that get in the way?”

I looked down at her, waiting until she gazed up at me. Her eyes were glossed over, and I tried not to panic. “I remember the first time I saw you. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Then, you were the most compassionate, then the saddest. The scaredest. The bravest. I am more in awe of you every day, and if you wanna know what scares me, it’s that I probably don’t deserve you, but I know I will love you more than anyone else will. I’ll do anything to keep you safe and happy. I just have to hope that’s enough.”

“I know that. I know all that, and I love you for it. I feel the most safe, the most happy when I’m with you. But what if . . . what if I can’t leave?”

“What if I can help you?” I asked.

“How?” she said. I could touch her hope and wrap it around us both like a blanket; she was waiting for me to show her the way out, but she was chained here by her duty to her mother, and that I wasn’t sure I could compete with. Guilt and fear were powerful beasts, and they had been feeding on her for years from the inside out.

“I can pack your things and put them in my car.”

Catherine looked away.

“This place is going under with or without you to go down with it. No one would blame you for abandoning ship. If your mom was in the right state of mind, she wouldn’t, either. Anyone who loves you wants you just as far away from this place as you want me. So just ask yourself, when it goes down—and it will—will it have been worth it? What would your dad want you to do?”

A tear fell down Catherine’s cheek, and she shook her head. “But I can’t just leave her here.”

“So let’s find another way. A program, the government, we can get jobs and send money back. We can call and find her help, assistance, but . . . you don’t belong here, Catherine. This house is not yours. The guests aren’t your family.”

“But she is. She’s all I have.”

“You’ve got me,” I said. “You’re not alone, and you never will be again.”

“If I go with you.”

I touched her chin, lifting it gently until her gaze met mine. “Haven’t you figured me out by now? You go where you want. I’ll follow. But we can’t stay here. You can’t stay here, Catherine. You don’t want to, I know you don’t.”

She shook her head, another tear falling down her cheek. “I don’t.” She closed her eyes and touched her lips to mine, and I cupped the back of her head with one hand, hugging her to me with the other. She sniffed, pulling away. “I already told her I’d stay.”

“Plans change.”

“I’m afraid of what will happen to her when I leave.”

“Catherine, listen to me. She’s the adult. She’s not your responsibility. She can’t keep you imprisoned here, and besides, once you leave, she’ll have to get help. She’s using you to stay stagnant. She’ll have to move forward or . . .”

“Drown,” Catherine said, staring at the door.

“You can’t get someone out of quicksand if you’re stuck in it, too,” I said.

She rested her cheek against my chest. “You’re right. I know you’re right, but . . . it’s hard to explain. The thought of leaving is so exciting, and it’s also completely terrifying. I don’t know if I can help her once I leave.”

“I know you definitely can’t help her here.”

She nodded, thinking.

I squeezed her tight. “There are a lot of things we don’t know, but I can promise you won’t do it alone.”





Chapter Twenty-Six

Catherine

The halls of the high school were particularly quiet on Tuesday morning. The students seemed tired, and at first, I thought it was just the cloud-covered sky and the cold. But something else was blowing in with the cold front. We just didn’t know it yet.

An office aide stood in the doorway, his hair frizzy and carrot-hued. He was more freckles than alabaster, already a chip on his shoulder as a freshman. Today the years of teasing and bullying were missing from his expression. Instead, he seemed anxious as he placed the note on the teacher’s desk.

“Tatum?” Ms. Winston called. “You’re wanted in the office.”

“But the test,” she argued.