All Chapters of What We Kept In The Dark: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The church is small and old with wooden pews that creak when you sit down and stained glass windows that cast colored light across the floor in shades of blue and gold.It’s fuller than I expected. People packed into every available seat, some standing along the back wall. Catherine was loved by more people than just her sons.I’m sitting in the front row beside Jeremy with Jamel on his other side, and Jeremy hasn’t said a word since we got here, just sits with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes fixed straight ahead on the simple wooden casket at the front of the room.There are flowers everywhere, arrangements sent by people who knew Catherine or heard about her passing, and the smell of lilies is so strong it makes my stomach turn a little.At the front of the church beside the casket there’s a large framed photograph of Catherine, and it must be from years ago because she looks so different from the frail woman I met in the hospital. In this picture she’s smiling wide, her e

The second I see Ryan standing there in Catherine’s living room with his arms around Jeremy, every instinct in my body screams at me to move.I turn and push through the crowd of people holding paper plates and plastic cups, keeping my head down, moving as fast as I can without running because running would draw attention and attention is the last thing I need right now.My pulse is loud in my ears and I can feel sweat starting to form along my hairline despite the cool air coming through the open windows.I slip past a group of older women talking near the hallway entrance and duck into the first room I find, Catherine’s bedroom, pressing myself against the wall beside the door where I have a clear view of the living room through the narrow opening.Ryan’s still there talking to Jeremy and Jamel, his mouth moving as he gestures with one hand, and beside him is his mother, shorter than I remember with her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, wearing a black dress and speaking quietly

I stare at the letter in my hands, at Jeremy’s handwriting sprawled across the page, at the date that says this was written three years ago when I didn’t even know his last name.My fingers smooth over the creases in the paper and I start reading from the beginning.Mom,I met Ryan’s girlfriend today. Her name is Camille. She was wearing a yellow dress and she smiled at the waiter when he brought our drinks and I can’t explain it but she’s different. Beautiful. Ryan doesn’t deserve her.The words blur for a second and I have to blink to clear my vision and continue reading.I don’t know what it is about her. We barely talked—just introductions, small talk about the gallery but I can’t stop thinking about her. This is bad. She’s his. I need to get over this.Love,JeremyI set the letter down on the bed beside me with shaking fingers and reach for another one from the pile.The one dated eight months later.Mom,Ryan brought Camille to poker night again. She wore jeans and this soft gr

I’ve been lying in the guest room bed for hours staring at nothing in particular while my mind replays those letters over and over, Jeremy’s handwriting spelling out feelings he never spoke out loud, three years of watching me from a distance and wanting something he thought he could never have.The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of old wood settling and the sound of crickets outside, and finally I give up on sleep and push the blanket off.I walk down the hallway in bare feet and see light coming from the front of the house, and when I get to the living room the front door is open with just the screen door closed.Jeremy’s sitting on the porch in one of the old rocking chairs, and through the screen I can see him staring out at the dark Texas night with his arms resting on his knees.I push the screen door open and the hinges creak.He looks up.“Can’t sleep either?” he asks quietly.I shake my head and lower myself into the rocking chair beside his, the wood worn smo

Ryan looks different than the last time I saw him, not worse exactly, just different.He’s wearing a charcoal gray sweater that looks effortless and expensive and dark jeans that fit perfectly, typical Ryan, and his hair is styled the way it always is, neat and deliberate like he spent time on it.But there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before, a crease forms near his eyes, a thinness to his cheeks that makes him look like he hasn’t been sleeping well.He’s still handsome though.Still the kind of man who turns heads when he walks into a room, still polished and put-together in a way that used to make me feel lucky he chose me.Now it just makes me feel tired.There are two coffee cups on the table in front of him and when he sees me walking toward him he stands up, a smile spreading across his face but there’s no warmth in his eyes.“Camille,” he says, and his voice is warm and relieved. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”“You asked for a meeting,” I say, and I slide i