Chapter Thirty
Caleb
A pounding headache and ache in my chest refuse to ease as I roll over in bed. Watching Indi drive away last night was torture I never want to experience again. Seeing her that devastated made me physically sick, especially knowing I caused it.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making her feel that way.
There’s no denying it either.
No excuses.
No way to twist the situation into something it wasn’t.
I fucked up.
Massively.
I slept with someone else.
Yeah, Indi and I technically weren’t together at the time, and yeah, she’d been messing with my head with all her mixed signals, but none of that gave me the right to fuck some random minutes after I was about to make love to the woman I’ve always loved.
Nothing changes that fact.
And I’ve hated myself every second since.
I walked all the way home in the pouring rain, carrying her giant pink teddy bear like some pathetic, lovesick idiot while thunder cracked across the sky loud enough to rival the pounding in my chest.
I have made the biggest mistake of my life.
At least with Maddie, I stopped things before they went too far—this time I didn’t. And honestly? I deserve every ounce of pain clawing through me right now. But Indi doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve any of this.
I wish I could take it away from her. I wish I could call her and somehow make her understand I was drunk, confused, angry, and completely out of my fucking mind. I wish I could convince her it meant nothing that she’s the only woman who’s ever mattered.
But I know none of that changes what I did.
And I know she’s never going to forgive me for it.
Truthfully, I probably don’t deserve forgiveness anyway.
I’ll give her space as she asked. I know she doesn’t want to see me or hear from me right now, even though staying away from her feels like someone’s ripping my fucking organs out one by one.
Rolling onto my back, I glance at the clock—nearly ten in the morning.
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Indi crying.
Saw the way her face crumpled when I admitted I’d slept with Sasha. Saw the betrayal in her eyes.
I miss her already.
Her smell.
Her smile.
That cute little giggle she does when she’s trying not to laugh.
The way she curls into me on the couch like she was made to fit there.
I miss everything about her, and it’s only been one night.
How the hell am I supposed to survive if this turns into another six goddamn years in purgatory?
Or worse… forever?
Dragging my hands down my face, I try rubbing away the exhaustion and guilt coating me like grime, but it doesn’t help.
Nothing fucking helps. I sit up slowly and glance around my room, memories of the last time Indi was here hitting me like punches to the chest. I swear I can still smell her flowery perfume lingering in the sheets. It’s driving me insane.
Needing a distraction before I do something stupid like drive to her house and beg on my knees, I head into the living room and grab my laptop.
Dropping naked onto the couch, I open Instagram first and immediately regret it.
My notifications are flooded with fan messages.
Ever since Staked started gaining traction, my social media has become a fucking circus.
Maybe I need to make everything private.
Maybe we need an official band page so these people stop invading my personal life.
Too late for that, apparently.
Ignoring the messages, I click onto a music news site to check chart updates. But as I scroll, an image of Indi’s house catches my eye, and my stomach drops.
Frowning, I scroll back up and click the article.
Within seconds, all the air leaves my lungs.
The article goes into detail about Indi and me, our history, and even her parents’ deaths. There are photographs of her standing at her front door in pajamas, looking like she’s been crying for hours while paparazzi swarm her fucking house.
My chest heaves violently as rage and panic explode through me.
What the fuck is this?
How do they know any of this?
I click another link and find the original story painting Indi as the villain who broke my heart to fuel my music career. Apparently, I’m some tragic, tortured artist now, and heartbreak is going to make Staked even more successful.
The comments underneath are worse.
Fans saying they’ll ‘support me no matter what.’ Saying they ‘hope I don’t quit singing because of her,’ saying ‘Indi ruined me.’
What the fuck does ‘support me’ even mean?
My heart races faster the more I read. There’s another article from only an hour ago claiming Indi dumped me because she’s apparently in a lesbian relationship now, complete with photographs of her standing beside some dark-haired woman I’ve never seen before.
This is fucking insane.
I know I promised I’d give her space, but fuck that. I need to know she’s okay. I can’t sit around doing nothing while people stalk her house and plaster her trauma all over the internet.
And worst of all… she probably thinks I did this.
I race into my bedroom, grab my cell, and call her immediately. I already know she won’t answer, but maybe she’ll at least listen to a voicemail. The phone rings endlessly before her voicemail finally clicks on.
“Indi, please don’t hang up before you hear all of this,” I rush out desperately.
“I swear to God I didn’t leak the story.
I would never do that to you. Please let me help fix this.
Come over, and we’ll figure something out together.
Please, baby, I’m begging you. I love you.
I always have, and I always will. Just… please call me or text me something so I know you’re okay.
Anything. I just need to know you’re safe. ”
Emotion starts clogging my throat, so I force myself to breathe.
“I love you, okay? Just… call me.”
The call ends.
I rake both hands through my hair and start pacing like a caged animal. How the fuck did this happen? While I’ve been lying in bed feeling sorry for myself, Indi’s been publicly ripped apart online.
Then it hits me…
Sasha.
The night I called her over, I told her everything. Every detail about Indi and me. Our history. Her past. Her parents. All because I needed someone to vent to.
“Fuck!”
I launch my cell phone across the room when something inside me snaps.
Rage floods my body so violently that I can barely see straight.
I snatch my cell back up and immediately dial Sasha’s number while pacing hard enough that my footsteps thud through the room like gunfire.
By the time she answers, I’m shaking with fury.
“Caleb, I knew you’d call—”
“What the fuck have you done?” I roar.
Silence.
“Excuse me?” she says cautiously.
“Did you leak the story?” I hiss.
She exhales—big mistake.
“Caleb, she broke your heart—”
“No, Sasha. I broke hers. Correction… you fucking destroyed it. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Caleb, I only want what’s best for you—”
“What’s best for me?” I laugh harshly. “You seriously think destroying the woman I love and leaking private details about her dead parents is what’s best for me?”
“Oh, stop yelling. You’re being melodramatic.”
“You think I’m melodramatic?” I bellow.
“Yes, Caleb. I think you’re blinded by the past and refusing to see your future.”
I scoff. “A future with you, right?”
“You know that’s where this is headed.”
I rub the back of my neck while trying not to lose complete control. “Listen carefully, Sasha, sweetheart,” I say coldly. “I’ve never considered myself a man who’d survive prison.”
“What are you talking about?” she laughs nervously.
“I’m saying if you come near Indi again, spread another story, or breathe in our direction, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.
When it comes to Indi, I’ll do anything to protect her.
Anything.” The line goes dead silent. “I don’t care that you’re a woman,” I continue darkly.
“You ever pull this shit again, I swear to God I’ll make you regret it. ”
I mean every fucking word.
Her breathing grows frantic.
“You understand me?” I bark.
“Oh God, yes. I understand. I’m sorry. I never meant—”
“You stay the fuck away from us and keep your damn mouth shut.”
“Okay,” she whispers before hanging up.
I stare at the cell phone in my hand while trying to calm the violent pounding in my chest. The rage slowly fades, leaving exhaustion and grief behind.
Twenty-four hours ago, I was in love and happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
Now everything has gone to shit.
A crazy stalker destroyed my relationship. Indi thinks I betrayed her. The media is tearing her apart. And somehow, I’ve lost the only person who’s ever truly mattered to me.
The thoughts hit so hard my throat closes.
Suddenly, my eyes burn, and I swallow hard, but instead of stopping it, a broken sob tears out of me as hot tears spill down my face.
The tears shock me.
I lean my head against the wall and cry for the relationship I just destroyed with my own stupidity.
I’m supposed to be strong, tough, untouchable.
Women come and go all the time, and I’ve never cared.
So why can’t I let Indi go?
Because she’s different.
She’s always been different.
She’s the girl who’s been there through every shitty moment of my life. The girl who’s always mattered more than anyone else. The girl I’ve loved for so long, I don’t even remember what life felt like before her.
I punch the wall hard and slump against it, needing something solid to keep me standing. Without her, I feel completely fucking broken. I need to hear her voice, need to know she’s okay. Grabbing my cell again, I call her once more, even though I know she won’t answer.
It rings twice before voicemail picks up.
“Indi, please… just text me. Send me a blank message. Anything. I’m losing my fucking mind over here.” I scrub at my wet face angrily. “Actually, no. Fuck giving you space. You’ve had enough time. I’m coming over right now. Stay there. Please.”
I hang up, throw the cell onto the bed, and get dressed faster than I ever have in my life.
The drive to Indi’s is a blur.
One minute I’m in my bedroom, and the next I’m hammering on her front door like a madman.
“Indi!” I yell. “Please, just let me in!”
Nothing.
“I know you’re in there. Just answer the door, so I know you’re okay!”
Still nothing.
Panic claws up my throat. What if she’s hurt herself? What if she’s lying unconscious inside? I’m seconds away from kicking the damn door in when the neighbor’s door swings open and Mrs. Latham steps outside, glaring at me.
“You again,” she snaps.
“Mrs. Latham, is Indi home?” I ask desperately.
She folds her arms. “Because of you, there was chaos here this morning. Reporters, girls throwing eggs. The poor thing left with a lovely young woman about an hour ago.” My stomach drops.
“She told me you’d probably come by,” Mrs. Latham continues.
“Said to tell you she’s staying with a friend indefinitely and not to contact her again. ”
The world fucking tilts beneath me.
“She moved out?” I whisper.
“Seems so. Frankly, I can understand why.”
Her words hit me hard. If Indi disappears and won’t answer my calls, I might never see her again. I stumble backward, my chest tightening painfully.
“Are you drunk?” Mrs. Latham asks sharply.
I clutch at my chest while my heart pounds wildly out of control. My breathing turns shallow and frantic as panic takes over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was going to come here, explain everything, beg if I had to.
But now she’s gone.
Again.
Only this time I’m terrified she’s gone forever.
My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the grass.
“Oh shit,” Mrs. Latham gasps while crouching beside me. “Are you having a heart attack?”
“I lost her,” I choke out.
For the first time since I met the woman, her face softens with genuine sympathy. “Yes, son,” she says quietly. “I think maybe you did.”
Tears sting my eyes again. “She’s really gone?”
Mrs. Latham gently touches my cheek. “I’m sorry. She didn’t leave a forwarding address or anything.”
Fuck.
“Would you like to come in for some tea?” she asks softly.
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I just… need to think.”
She helps me stand while I wipe my face roughly.
“I’m sorry I judged you,” she says quietly. “I can see you really love her.”
I laugh bitterly. “Too late for that now.”
“If she comes back, I’ll tell her you were here.”
“Thanks.” Without thinking, I pull her into a quick hug. She pats my back awkwardly before I let go and head toward my car.
I can’t look at Indi’s house again. It hurts too much.
Right now, there’s only one person in the world who can talk to me and understand Indi and me better than anyone else.
My Dad.