Chapter Twenty-Three
Caleb
I watched Dylan watch Chantel.
And Sean.
The three of them thought they were being careful. Or maybe they just enjoyed being sneaky. As if no one would catch on to what their relationship really was.
And maybe they were right, because nobody else at this party seemed to notice a damn thing.
Not the way Chantel’s eyes kept drifting through the crowd until she found Dylan.
Not the way his hand flexed around his glass every single time he caught her looking.
Or the way Sean laughed too loud at jokes that weren’t that funny.
He played his part like a guy who didn’t care, when anyone with eyes could see he was the one who cared the most.
I noticed all of it.
I always did. That was the thing about having spent years in and out of hospitals, waiting around while my body tried to kill me—it made me pay attention to my surroundings.
I got good at reading the room because I had to. Otherwise, I’d never know when someone was telling me the truth or giving me false hope.
And admittedly, I liked studying the people around me. Living vicariously through them. Learning what made them tick.
And these three? They were a disaster waiting to happen.
But at least they had love.
Which, if you asked me, made them pretty damn lucky.