Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"What are you doing here?" I mouth the words, but he's already moving past me, his attention fixed behind the bar.
Reeves emerges from the back office. We haven't talked since my confession three days ago. I’ve respected his silence—I thought it was best to give him space, time to let his anger settle and his shock wear off before we attempted to discuss our future—because there's just too much we need to work through, too many painful truths that need to be laid bare.
The silence between us has been deafening, filled with all the words we're both too afraid to say.
The moment his eyes land on Caine, his entire body goes rigid. His face transforms into something I barely recognize—pure rage mixed with pain and betrayal.
"You've got some fucking nerve showing up here," Reeves growls, his voice carrying across the quiet hall.
"We need to talk," Caine says, his voice steady but respectful. "Man to man."
Reeves lets out a bitter laugh that makes my skin crawl. "Man to man? You think you're a man? Real men don't fuck other men's wives."
"Reeves, please—" I start, but he cuts me off with a sharp look.
"Follow me," he barks at Caine, jerking his head toward the back office. "Let's settle this properly."
My stomach drops as I watch them disappear into the cramped space. I can't let this happen—not here, not like this. I rush after them, Liza's worried voice calling my name behind me.
The office feels suffocating with all three of us crammed inside. Reeves slams the door and whirls around to face Caine. "You think your money makes you untouchable?" Reeves snarls, stepping closer. "You think you can waltz in here and destroy my family?"
"I didn't come here to fight," Caine says calmly, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
"Too fucking bad, because that's what you're getting."
"Reeves, stop!" I plead, stepping between them. "Please, just calm down and listen to him."
"I love your wife," Caine says quietly, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. "I'm in love with her."
The silence that follows is deafening. I watch Reeves’s face crumble, then harden into something terrifying.
"You love her?" Reeves’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "You’ve destroyed my marriage, and now you're throwing around the word love?"
Caine doesn't flinch. "I didn't plan for this to happen. But I can't deny what I feel."
Reeves slowly pivots toward me, his movements deliberate and predatory.
Those dark eyes—almost black in the dim office lighting—lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
There's something raw and wounded in his gaze, a mixture of betrayal and fury that cuts straight through me.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating, as if the very air has thickened with the weight of what's just been confessed. "And you? Do you love him back?"
My mouth goes dry. This is it—the moment everything changes forever. I can feel both men watching me, waiting for words that will either salvage what's left of my marriage or destroy it completely.
"Reeves, I—"
"Answer the fucking question, Jenna!"
Tears blur my vision. "I... yes." The word comes out as barely a whisper. "I love him."
The transformation in Reeves’s face is instant and devastating. Every muscle seems to go slack for a heartbeat before his features contort into something I've never seen before—anguish that quickly morphs into white-hot rage.
The color drains from his face completely, leaving him pale as winter stone, except for the flush of anger creeping up his neck like spilled wine.
Before I can blink, his fist connects with Caine's jaw in a sickening crack. Caine staggers backward, blood trickling from his split lip.
"Reeves, no!" I rush to Caine's side, my hands hovering over his face. The concern in my touch says everything Reeves needs to know.
"Get away from him!" Reeves lunges forward, but the office door bursts open.
Greg charges in, taking in the scene. "What the fuck.” Without hesitation, he wraps his massive arms around Reeves from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. "Reeves, calm down!"
"Let me fucking go! I'm gonna kill that piece of shit!"
Liza appears in the doorway, her face pale. "I'm calling the cops," she announces, already on her phone.
"Don't," I plead, but she shakes her head.
"This has gone too far, Jen."
Reeves struggles against Greg's hold, his face twisted with rage and heartbreak. "Seven years, Jenna! Seven fucking years we've been together, and you throw it all away for this rich asshole?"
"I never meant for this to happen," I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"But it did happen," Caine says softly, touching his bleeding lip. "And we can't take it back."
"No," Reeves says, his voice breaking. "But you can both go to hell."
Reeves has gone limp, and Greg finally releases him. He immediately slumps into the desk chair, head in his hands.
Liza hovers in the doorway, unsure whether to stay or go. I gesture for her to give us privacy.
Reeves is bawling, completely distraught, and I can’t stand the sight of him.
I did this to him.
Caine walks out slowly, politely, a bloody hand on his lip.
Greg leaves us alone, too, but not before shooting me a look that could kill.
I sit across from Reeves, and am at a complete loss for words. No amount of ‘Sorrys’ can fix this.
I listen to the excruciating sound of his heartbreak. It’s painful, but I deserve every second of it. I need to stay here with him, no matter how much I want to leave.
The wail of sirens cuts through the tension like a knife. Within minutes, two uniformed officers fill the doorway of our cramped office, their presence making the small space feel even more suffocating.
"Someone called about a disturbance?" The older officer, a stocky man with graying temples, surveys the scene with practiced eyes that immediately land on Caine's split lip.
My heart hammers against my ribs as we step into the office and I watch Reeves’s face cycle through emotions—rage, humiliation, defeat.
"Just a heated discussion that got a little out of hand," Caine says smoothly, dabbing at his lip with a tissue. His voice remains steady, controlled. "Nothing more."
The officer looks skeptical. "Sir, you're bleeding. Are you sure you don't want to press charges?"
"Positive." Caine's eyes find mine for just a moment before returning to the officer. "It was a misunderstanding between old acquaintances."
I want to collapse with relief. He could destroy Reeves right now—have him arrested, make everything so much worse than it already is.
But he doesn't. He doesn't press charges because, despite everything that's happened between us, despite the hate and rage written across Reeves’s face, Caine understands what an arrest would mean.
He knows Reeves is already down, and there's no sense kicking him further.
The officers take statements anyway, but without Caine pressing charges, there's nothing they can do. They warn everyone to keep things civil and eventually leave, taking the oppressive energy with them.
Caine straightens his jacket and moves toward the door. "I should leave."
"Caine, wait." I follow him, leaving Reeves behind. My chest aches seeing the damage—not just to his lip, but to everything I’ve built with Reeves and destroyed today.
"Thank you," I whisper when we're alone by the front door. "For not pressing charges. For protecting him."
He pauses, his hand on the door handle. "I didn't do it for him."
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning.
"I want to see you tomorrow," he says quietly. "There's a coffee shop on Maple Street, near your house. Two o'clock?"
I should say no. I should tell him we need space, time, that this whole situation is spiralling beyond our control. Instead, I find myself nodding.
"I'll be there."
His fingers brush mine—so briefly anyone watching would miss it—but the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. When he looks at me, I see the same desperate longing that's been eating me alive.
God help me, I'm still drowning in this man. And I don't want to be saved.