Chapter Six
Present Day Chaos
Caleb
It’s been six years since Indi left me.
Six years since the goodbye text.
Six years since she vanished so completely it was like she’d never existed at all.
She didn’t even show up to graduation. They called her name during the ceremony, and there was just… silence. An empty seat where she should have been. I remember sitting there staring at the stage, feeling like the entire room was closing in on me.
I tried finding her afterward.
God, I tried.
But every lead went nowhere, and every conversation ended the same way. Nobody knew anything, or if they did, they weren’t telling me. Eventually, after years of chasing ghosts, I gave up.
Well… mostly.
I’m twenty-four now, and on paper my life looks pretty damn good.
Dad’s pep talk after Indi left lasted maybe three months before I completely ignored every piece of advice he gave me. After spending weeks moping around like some tragic love-struck idiot, I decided the best way to move on was to stop thinking about her altogether.
Turns out that’s impossible.
So instead, I found distractions.
The first girl was at some pub in London. I took her home and slept with her… and then somehow ended up sleeping with her roommate too. And just like that, the ‘let’s pretend you’re not hopelessly in love with Indi Malone by sleeping with literally everyone else’ phase began.
For a while, every girl I touched became a substitute in my head.
Blonde hair? Indi. Check.
Blue eyes? Indi. Check.
Soft laugh? Indi. Check.
It was pathetic.
Eventually, I stopped imagining they were her because nobody compares anyway. Chasing temporary distractions only makes me miss her more once the girls leave my bed.
So I stopped pretending it meant anything.
Sex became exactly what it was.
A distraction.
Nothing more.
I moved out of Mum and Dad’s place a couple of years ago and bought myself a condo not far from them. It’s nice, modern, quiet, and lonely as fuck sometimes.
Most of my time goes into the band now.
Staked has become my entire life.
Aston, Annie, Ella, Chad, and I have worked our asses off for years building this thing together, and we’re finally getting somewhere. We’ve got industry buzz now. Small tours. Online traction. Dad and Colt both think it’s only a matter of time before we properly break through.
Music’s probably the only thing that’s kept me sane these last six years. Because no matter how much I try moving on, there are still nights when I wonder if Indi ever thinks about me, too.
Hell, I don’t even know if she’s still alive.
Dad found her after she disappeared and made sure she was okay, but after that? Nothing. And he refuses to tell me a damn thing.
I’ve begged, argued, and lost my shit at him more than once over it, too.
Doesn’t matter.
Dad promised her he wouldn’t tell me where she was, and once Dad gives his word, that’s basically the end of the conversation.
Still pisses me off though.
I’m his son.
You’d think he could give me one tiny hint.
Tonight is Annie’s seventeenth birthday party, which Uncle Colt is throwing at some ridiculously expensive hotel in London because apparently subtlety isn’t in his vocabulary anymore.
Annie will probably hate how over-the-top it is.
But secretly? I know she’ll love it too.
Aston called me earlier, sounding more nervous than I’ve heard him in years, which told me this party has absolutely nothing to do with cake.
He’s planning something with Annie tonight.
Or at least trying to.
Those two have been dancing around each other for years now, and watching it unfold is weird as hell considering Annie feels like my little sister.
Hearing Aston talk about wanting her makes me want to scrub my brain clean with goddamn bleach.
But at the same time, if there’s one guy I’d trust with her, it’s him.
I just hope they don’t completely screw up the band if things go sideways.
Because if I’ve learned anything from my own life, it’s that feelings can destroy absolutely everything if you let them.
I mean, look at Indi and me.
We grew up together.
Loved each other.
And somehow still ended up strangers.
God, I wonder if she ever thinks about me.
Stop it, Caleb!
Thinking about her never gets you anywhere.
“Jesus Christ, get a grip,” I mutter at my reflection.
My shoulder-length hair is falling perfectly tonight, messy in that intentional rockstar way girls seem to lose their minds over, and my black shirt fits tightly enough to show the hours I spend working out without looking like I’m a try-hard.
Basically, I look exactly like the kind of guy eighteen-year-old Caleb always wanted to become.
Too bad the bloke staring back at me still looks miserable underneath it all.
While shrugging on my leather jacket, my cell slips from my pocket and crashes onto the floor.
“For fuck’s sake.”
I bend down to grab it, and the screen lights up automatically in my hand.
Big mistake.
Before I can stop myself, my thumb is already opening Indi’s contact, and her photo fills the screen instantly.
Blonde hair.
Bright blue eyes.
Eighteen years old forever inside my phone.
And all of a sudden, I can’t breathe properly again.
“Don’t do it,” I warn myself aloud.
But my thumb moves anyway straight toward the call button.
“Seriously, Caleb?” I bark at my own reflection. “She hasn’t answered in six years. Why the fuck would tonight be different?”
Still… I hover there.
Every single time I call, part of me stupidly hopes she’ll finally pick up.
That I’ll hear her voice.
That maybe she misses me too.
“This is the last time,” I tell myself firmly. “If she doesn’t answer, you delete the number. Done.” I sound completely insane talking to myself in the mirror, but at this point, I don’t care.
I hit call, and my heart starts pounding so hard it hurts.
The ringing echoes through the speaker while I hold the phone to my ear, every pulse of sound making hope flare despite myself.
Come on, Indi.
Please.
But there’s nothing.
Just endless ringing.
I close my eyes briefly and exhale shakily. “This is pathetic,” I whisper. Eventually, I end the call before voicemail kicks in.
Silence fills the room again while I stare at her contact for a long moment, my thumb hovering over delete.
One press.
That’s all it would take.
Closure.
Fucking freedom.
Whatever bullshit people call finally moving on.
But instead, it feels like giving up on her completely. And even after six years, I don’t think I can do that yet. So instead, I lock the screen and shove the cell back into my pocket.
“Right,” I mutter to myself. “Time to go get yourself laid and forget she exists for one night.”
The man in the mirror smirks like he believes that’s possible.
But the pain sitting behind his eyes tells a very different story.
I know Colt’s been talking with Rob Luxley about Staked behind the scenes.
Rob’s one of the biggest agents in the industry and notoriously hard to impress, but if there’s one thing Uncle Colt excels at, it’s wearing people down until they eventually cave.
Dad says Rob’s already listened to some of our demos, which is huge, but I’ve kept all of it quiet from the others.
They’re too young.
Well, maybe not young exactly, but younger.
Excitement makes people reckless, and the second Annie catches wind that someone important might see us play, she’ll either combust from excitement or start a fight with someone because she’s stressed.
Probably both.
Being years older than the rest of them can be exhausting sometimes. It doesn’t sound like much until you live it. When we first started the band, Chad was still practically a kid, while I was old enough to drive.
Even now, there are moments where it feels like I’m babysitting chaos.
Especially with Annie.
Christ, that girl has a temper.
I love her to death, but she goes from zero to homicidal in under three seconds flat and somehow always drags the rest of us into the blast zone with her.
Half our arguments start because she refuses to listen to anyone, and the other half happen because I’m apparently the only one willing to call her out on her bullshit.
She hates it when I put her in her place, too.
Absolutely hates it.
But underneath all the fighting, she still looks at me like I’m her big brother. She comes to me for advice more than anyone else in the band, and secretly, I love that she trusts me enough to do that.
Annie’s a good kid.
Emotional as hell.
But good.
I grab Annie’s present from the kitchen counter before heading downstairs toward the underground garage attached to my condo.
The night air hits me as I step outside, cool and sharp against my skin.
Then my eyes land on my car, and some of the irritation in my chest finally eases.
My black Lexus LFA sits gleaming beneath the overhead lights like pure sex on wheels.
God, I love this car.
I bought it myself, too.
Years of tutoring, gigs, and saving every cent I could gave me enough to finally afford it.
Well, that and the money I’d originally saved to move in with Indi. That thought punches me in the ribs a little.
I ignore it.
That future never happened, so instead I poured every dollar into something that stayed.
And honestly? This car is fucking perfect.
I hit the central locking button and slide into the driver’s seat, slamming the door harder than necessary behind me. The silence inside the car settles around me instantly.
Indi still didn’t answer.
Again.
And once again, I didn’t delete her number.
“Pathetic bastard,” I mutter to myself while starting the engine.
The roar instantly vibrates through the car and straight into my chest, pulling a grin from me despite everything. Cars have always done that for me. The noise, power, control, and for a few seconds, it drowns out whatever crap’s going on in my head.
I check myself in the rear-view mirror quickly, adjusting my hair with my fingers.
Definitely my best feature.
No question.
Once I’m satisfied, I pull out onto the street and head toward the hotel.
The drive isn’t long, which is ideal because London traffic can absolutely get fucked at this time of night. By the time I pull into the underground parking area behind the hotel, the place is already packed.
Music pulses faintly from somewhere inside while security guards swarm the entrances like the bloody royal family’s attending.
Typical Colt behavior.
I grab Annie’s present and head toward the back entrance instead of the front because I genuinely cannot be bothered dealing with photographers or paparazzi tonight.
A massive bouncer blocks the door and looks me up and down. “Name?” he asks gruffly.
I nearly laugh at how serious he is.
“Caleb McCormack-Slade.”
He checks his clipboard quickly before nodding once. “Right. Through you go.”
I smirk while walking past him.
The security around Annie and Ella is sometimes absolutely ridiculous. However, growing up around Colt has made me realize there are far worse things than having an overprotective family.
I step into the party and get hit with noise, lights, and about five hundred overdressed rich people pretending they’re interesting.
Celebrities used to impress me when I was younger.
Now they look exhausted.
Or drunk.
Usually both.
The ballroom is already packed, and I weave through clusters of actors, musicians, influencers, and rich socialites while carrying Annie’s present toward the ridiculously huge gift table near the stage.
I dump it there and glance around the room.
A few years ago, I probably would have been starstruck seeing this many famous people together.
Now? Most of them look like people with too much money and egos bigger than their careers.
I hope when Staked finally breaks properly, I don’t turn into one of those wankers. Though judging by the number of girls already eyeing me off tonight, maybe I’m halfway there.
Not that I need to pick someone up.
I’ve already got enough girls saved on my phone who are willing to come over whenever I text. Some separately, some together. But tonight I want something different. Something distracting enough to shut my brain off completely.
That’s when I notice the brunette sitting at the bar staring at me.
And not subtly either.
Doe eyes, slow smile, leg crossed deliberately.
Yeah, she definitely knows exactly what she’s doing.
I narrow my eyes slightly, trying to place her face before it clicks…
Angelica Braithwaite.
Right.
Heiress to the Braithwaite Marina empire. She is rich, beautiful, and has been surrounded by scandal for the last couple of years.
I vaguely remember the media tearing her to shreds over the animal-testing controversy involving her makeup company.
Every news channel in the country was talking about it for months.
Apparently, people inside the company were charged over the cruelty allegations, though Angelica swore she knew nothing about it.
Personally? I don’t know what to believe.
I just know hurting animals is fucked.
Dad raised me around enough rescue dogs to make sure of that.
Still… tonight she’s sitting at the bar looking at me like I’m the answer to every bad decision she wants to make.
And right now, that sounds perfect.
Angelica lifts her drink slightly toward me in invitation, and I smirk.
Well…
Looks like tonight just got interesting.