Chapter Twenty
Caleb
I didn’t even get a goodbye kiss.
Now I’m driving home completely fucking confused.
My entire body is wound so tight it hurts, and right now the only way I can think to take the edge off is alcohol. I know it’s a terrible idea, and I know alcohol should be limited, but at this point, I just want to get drunk enough to stop thinking.
Because all I can think about is the fact I was seconds away from finally being inside Indi again… and then it was ripped away from me.
I pull into the bottle shop and grab a bottle of whiskey before heading home.
Alone.
Frustrated.
Still painfully fucking hard.
By the time I walk through my front door, I’ve already cracked the bottle open and taken a long, burning swallow straight from the neck.
This level of frustration doesn’t deserve glassware.
I shove the door closed with my foot and collapse onto the couch, trying desperately to stop replaying every second of tonight in my head.
But it’s impossible.
Her body.
Her mouth.
The way she said she wanted me.
And then the way she just… fucking left.
Nothing about Indi makes sense.
She says she only wants friendship… but friends don’t climb all over each other and beg to be made love to. Then again, friends also don’t rush off to work without even kissing goodbye.
I groan and drag a hand down my face.
This woman is doing my fucking head in.
I can’t work out what she wants from me.
Hell, I don’t even think she knows what she wants from me.
All I know is I’m horny as hell, emotionally wrecked, and one more night of this push and pull bullshit might genuinely kill me.
Maybe getting blackout drunk is the safest option.
At least then I might stop thinking about her for five damn minutes.
I shrug out of my leather jacket and toss it aside before pulling my wallet and phone from my jeans pocket and dropping them onto the coffee table. My wallet falls open, and a folded piece of paper flutters onto the floor.
Frowning, I pick it up and stare down at Sasha’s number from the other night.
I exhale heavily before tossing it back onto the table and sinking deeper into the couch while taking another long swallow of whiskey straight from the bottle.
***
My head is aching.
Not just aching…
Fucking pounding.
The kind of hangover where it feels like someone cracked my skull open and filled it with broken glass and regret. I groan and roll over, letting my arm flop out beside me, only for it to land on something warm and soft that lets out a muffled “Oomph.”
My eyes fly open instantly.
Fuck!
A woman is lying beside me.
For one stupid fucking second, my heart leaps because she’s brunette, but her hair is covering her face.
Then panic slams into me.
Slowly, I reach over and move the hair aside.
Sasha.
From the after-party.
Double fuck!
I rub my hand over my jaw while trying to piece together what the hell happened last night. Glancing beneath the blankets, I instantly spot two naked bodies tangled in the sheets.
Mine…
… and hers.
Then my gaze lands on the bedside table.
A used condom.
An empty wrapper ripped open beside it.
Triple fucking fuck!
I collapse back onto the mattress while guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave. Last night I was supposed to be making love to Indi. Instead, I came home and fucked a complete stranger.
Nice one, you absolute tosser.
I should have known drowning myself in whiskey was a horrific idea.
Beside me, Sasha groans softly and grabs her head before blinking her eyes open slowly.
She spots me and smiles sleepily. “Well, good morning.”
“Yep,” I mutter flatly.
Christ, I feel sick.
No wonder Indi’s terrified I’ll cheat on her or get distracted by other women. Look at the absolute bullshit I’ve gone and done.
“We drank so much last night,” Sasha says with a quiet laugh.
“A whole fucking lot.”
She studies me carefully. “Do you remember any of it?”
I stare at the ceiling. “Honestly? Not a thing.”
“I knew you were drunk when I came over.” She winces while rubbing her temple. “Didn’t realize quite how drunk, though. Shame you can’t remember it. It was a wild night.”
I close my eyes so tightly it hurts.
Please kill me.
“One I definitely won’t forget anytime soon,” she adds with a smirk. “Even through the haze.”
I genuinely consider smashing my own head against the bedside table.
“Hey.” She nudges my arm lightly. “Don’t beat yourself up. We had fun. Even if you did keep calling me Indi.”
My stomach fucking drops.
“But I didn’t mind,” she continues casually. “I got to have you, and she didn’t. Lucky me.” She pushes the blankets aside and climbs out of bed completely naked before disappearing into the ensuite.
The bathroom door clicks shut.
And I finally let myself spiral.
You fucking idiot, Caleb.
How could I possibly be this stupid?
I scrub both hands over my face before pulling on my joggers and pacing around the room like I have completely lost any sanity I may have had.
Nothing helps.
Nothing stops the guilt from chewing straight through me.
I can’t even stand being in this room anymore.
Walking out to the living room, I collapse onto the couch before burying my face in my hands.
I feel like an absolute bellend.
No.
Worse.
A total fucking wankstain.
And the worst part?
Indi was right to be worried.
This is exactly the kind of shit she’s terrified of…
Me with other women.
Me losing control.
Me proving I can’t be trusted.
Even though I know this wasn’t me.
Not really.
I hardly ever drink, and when I do, apparently I make catastrophically bad decisions.
So that’s it.
No more getting drunk.
Ever.
Because if I want any chance with Indi, I need to prove I can be the kind of man she deserves.
A one-woman man.
And I know I can be.
I would be anything for her if she’d just let me.
A few minutes later, Sasha walks out fully dressed, thank fuck.
She sits beside me on the couch cautiously. “So… about last night—”
“A mistake,” I cut in instantly. “You should leave.” I don’t even look at her while I say it because the last thing I want is to accidentally give her the wrong idea about whatever the hell last night was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her bite her lip before nodding. “Okay. Sure.” She grabs her handbag from the coffee table and stands. “Walk me out?”
I sigh heavily before forcing myself upright and following her to the front door. The second I open it, she smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek softly, and I tense immediately.
Another mental punch straight to my own face.
“Can we do this again sometime?” she asks.
Just like they always do.
“I don’t think so,” I reply flatly, refusing to meet her eyes.
She gives a small laugh and places her hand briefly on my chest. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Caleb. We had a good night. It is what it is.” Then she kisses my cheek again and walks away.
The second she’s gone, I slam the door shut and lean heavily against it, bowing my head while trying to breathe through the self-loathing clawing through me.
I’m so fucking angry.
And I’ve got nobody to blame except myself.
Sasha only came over because I must have called her.
Sure, I don’t remember doing it, but how else would she know where I live?
This is so unbelievably fucked up.
Maybe Indi really is better off without me.
Because if I’m serious about proving I can be loyal to her, sleeping with another woman the second things get hard is definitely not the way to fucking do it.
The guilt sitting in my chest is making me feel physically ill.
I was supposed to have Indi last night, and because I got frustrated, horny, drunk, and impatient, I let somebody else take her place instead of waiting.
Delayed gratification exists for a reason, you absolute moron.
I should have gone to sleep.
Should have had a cold shower.
Should have done literally anything else besides this.
I drag my hands through my hair and groan loudly. The only tiny consolation is the fact that I was apparently thinking about Indi the entire damn time.
Which, honestly, might make this even worse.
Sasha said it was a wild night, and maybe it’s better I don’t remember any of it. Because right now, all I know is I need to fix this feeling clawing through my chest.
I need to remind Indi how much she means to me.
How much I want her.
And maybe, just maybe, the fastest way to a woman’s heart is through gifts.
Indi
I’m driving home after being called into work for an emergency shift.
Three nurses went down with the flu, so I ended up covering overnight in the emergency room, before rolling straight into my normal shift this morning.
I’m exhausted to the point my bones ache, and my eyes feel gritty from lack of sleep.
But despite how tired I am, my mind keeps circling back to Caleb.
To last night.
To how completely I lost myself around him.
Because even though I know I don’t want a relationship, and even though I’ve spent days telling myself we’re only kissing and nothing more, everything spiraled completely out of control the second we were alone together.
I almost slept with him.
No.
Not almost.
I begged him to make love to me.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and exhale shakily.
God, what was I thinking?
The problem is, when I’m around Caleb, I stop thinking entirely. He gets inside my head and under my skin until everything else fades away. Last night he was so sweet and caring, fixing things around my apartment, cooking me dinner, holding me like I mattered.
For a little while, he made me feel safe.
And that’s dangerous.
Because as beautiful as it felt, it also made me forget why we can’t be together in the first place.
I love him.
That’s never been the problem.
The problem is trust.
The problem is Maddie.
The problem is remembering how it felt to see him with somebody else right after we slept together all those years ago.
How do I know he wouldn’t hurt me like that again?
How do I know he can even be faithful?
I shake my head hard.
No. This has gone too far already. I need to pull back before I completely lose myself in him again. Last night was a mistake, a beautiful, intoxicating mistake, but still a mistake.
The hospital calling when it did was probably the universe saving me from making things even worse, because if we’d actually slept together… Caleb would only become more emotionally invested, and I can’t give him what he wants.
I park outside my apartment and stretch stiffly after climbing from the car, trying to work some of the tension from my muscles.
I’m exhausted.
All I want is a shower and bed.
Digging my keys from my bag, I head toward the front door when a large green van suddenly pulls up at the curb beside me. Immediately, my stomach tightens. This neighborhood isn’t exactly comforting.
A man wearing a delivery uniform climbs from the driver’s seat and walks to the back of the van. My anxiety eases slightly until he opens the doors and pulls out the biggest bouquet of roses I’ve ever seen in my life.
My eyes widen so much they practically hurt.
The man walks toward me carefully while balancing the enormous arrangement.
“Hi, I have a delivery for Indica Malone.”
I blink at him stupidly before finally nodding. Unable to form an intelligent sentence, I accept the flowers while he smiles politely.
The bouquet is massive and heavy, almost too much for me to hold properly.
“How many are there?” I finally manage to ask.
“One hundred long-stemmed red roses.”
One hundred?
My stomach flips violently.
The delivery driver smiles again before heading back to his van, leaving me standing frozen on my doorstep, clutching this gigantic arrangement.
This is not friend behavior.
Not even close.
I unlock my front door and carry the roses inside awkwardly, shutting the door behind me with my foot before placing them carefully onto the buffet.
They’re breathtaking.
Absolutely breathtaking.
No one has ever given me something like this before, and somehow that only makes everything worse. Because Caleb is doing this because he thinks there’s hope for us.
Hope for something more.
And there can’t be.
My eyes catch on the small card tucked between the roses, and my chest tightens. Slowly, I pull it free. Little confetti love hearts tumble out when I open it, and I immediately sag against the buffet, guilt washing over me so hard it physically hurts.
I led him on.
This is all my fault.
Swallowing thickly, I force myself to read the note.
For your beauty is as flawless,
As the beauty of these roses.
Forgive me for being me,
And say you’ll love me for who I want to be.
The man you will adore and call your own.
I have loved you forever…
Say you’ll be my forever?
Caleb xo
My chest constricts painfully, and tears instantly fill my eyes. I knew this would happen. The second I let my guard down, Caleb wanted more. And I can’t give him more.
I just can’t.
The tears spill down my cheeks while I clutch the card tightly in trembling fingers.
I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore.
Is it sadness?
Fear?
Relief?
Because the truth is, I’ve loved Caleb every single day since I walked away from him. Part of me has always wanted to be his. But another part of me knows exactly who Caleb is.
He’s charming, beautiful, and talented—a man who writes soulful words that make women fall in love with him without even trying.
And that’s the problem.
Women.
There will always be women around him.
Always temptation.
Always opportunities for him to hurt me.
And I can’t survive that.
I don’t do relationships.
I don’t trust in love.
And letting him this close again has already started ruining me.
I wipe furiously at my tears, but more keep falling.
Do I love him?
Yes.
Completely.
But the pain I carry has always been stronger than hope, and right now it’s the only thing keeping me grounded enough to see reality clearly.
Caleb and I cannot work.
No matter how badly I wish we could.
My hands shake while I grab my cell phone from my bag and type out two simple words before hitting send through blurred vision and broken sobs.
Me: I can’t.