Chapter Forty-Two #2
“Don’t you dare talk about her,” I snap. “You have no right. Stay the fuck away from me.” I turn and walk straight out of the VIP area before I completely lose control.
My blood is boiling. If Indi saw that photograph, it could ruin everything.
I shove my hands into my pockets while storming downstairs toward the exit, needing to get the hell out of there before I do something stupid.
Then realization slams into me.
My phone.
I left it on the fucking bar.
“Goddammit!” I spin around and race back upstairs into the VIP section. My cell phone’s gone. Panic immediately claws up my throat.
The bartender approaches cautiously. “Everything okay, sir?”
“Not really. Has someone handed in a cell phone?”
Relief floods me when he smiles and nods. “Yes, just a few moments ago. I’ll grab it for you.”
Indi
I’m missing Caleb like crazy, but thankfully the wait is down to only two weeks before I get to see him again. Thank God.
He calls, Zooms, and emails me constantly, sending photographs from concerts and random pictures of everyone on tour. His hair is getting ridiculously long now, and I can’t wait to run my hands through it again.
Something is exciting about having this part of Caleb all to myself. Being the secret girlfriend no one knows about except his family and closest friends is strangely thrilling. The paparazzi don’t even realize I exist anymore, and honestly, I like it that way.
I’m on break at work, scrolling through emails on my phone when a new one from Caleb pops up.
To: Indica Malone
From: Caleb McCormack-Slade
Subject: Having such a great time ;)
I smile automatically at the stupid winky face in the subject line. But the second I open the attachment, my entire world caves in.
My heart drops so violently it feels like it’s shattered on the floor, bleeding out while still pumping hard enough to hurt. Air catches painfully in my throat as I stare at the photograph.
Caleb with Sasha hanging all over him.
Her tits are practically falling out of her top while her lips are plastered against his.
We talked about this.
Sasha was a no-go zone—a hard limit.
And now he’s emailing me a picture like this with the subject line ‘Having such a great time ;).’
I feel physically sick.
I can’t understand any of this.
Have I done something wrong?
Have I pushed him away somehow?
Or has being on tour reminded him how much easier life is when he’s screwing random women instead of trying to stay faithful to me?
Sasha is a deal breaker.
This is a deal breaker.
Tears burn behind my eyes while acid crawls up my throat. My stomach churns so violently that I think I might throw up right here in the staff room. I still have five hours left in my shift, but there’s no way I can work now, not after this.
I somehow force my legs to move and make my way toward Ingrid, our Duty Nurse for the night. My whole body is shaking so badly my bones feel like they’re rattling apart.
“Shit, Indi, are you okay?” Ingrid asks immediately, rushing toward me. I shake my head, fighting the urge to gag. “Do you need a doctor?”
Again, I shake my head because if I try to speak, I’m going to lose it completely.
“Okay, sweetheart, I think you need to go home. Are you okay to drive?”
I nod automatically even though I honestly don’t know.
She gently grabs my handbag and presses it into my hands. “Look, I don’t know what just happened, but I hope it works out.”
I nod again before turning and hurrying out of Emergency toward the car park. I’m barely holding myself together. My hands are shaking so violently that I can’t even open my handbag to get my keys out. I’m trying so hard not to cry, but the second the first tear slips free, everything breaks apart.
A sob rips out of me.
My body folds against the side of my car while I cry into my hands hard.
My knees give out, and I slide helplessly down the door until I’m curled up on the freezing concrete beside the car.
I don’t even know how long I stay there in the autumn cold before my cell starts ringing.
It takes every bit of strength to drag myself upright enough to lean against the car and answer.
Even though he’s the last person I want to hear from right now.
“What?” I whisper.
There’s a pause.
“Indi… baby, are you crying?”
I want to scream at him, punch him, hate him.
Instead, all I can think about is how badly I want him to hold me right now.
“Why would you send that to me?” I ask shakily.
“What?”
I close my eyes. “The picture of you and Sasha, Caleb. Don’t play dumb. Are you sleeping with her again?”
“What? God, no. I wouldn’t go near her—”
“Yeah, right. If you wouldn’t go near her, then why did I just get a photo of the two of you all over each other?”
He goes quiet for half a second, and my heart pounds harder.
“I didn’t send it, Indi. I swear. I left my cell on the bar—”
“But why did you even have a photo with Sasha? Why is she there?” I snap, anger cutting through the heartbreak.
“I didn’t know she was here, baby. She blindsided me. She jumped on me and kissed me. You know I wouldn’t do this to you. Indi, you know me—”
“That’s the problem, Caleb. I do know you. You’re a man-whore, and I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to keep it in your pants.”
“Stop that. I was a man-whore. Past tense. I belong to you now. I’m not sleeping with anyone. I swear to God I love you, Indi. I would never do that to you.”
And the worst part?
I believe him.
I know he isn’t sleeping with her.
But that almost makes this hurt worse somehow.
“Sorry,” I whisper brokenly. “I know you’re probably not sleeping with her, but Sasha was the rule, Caleb… the hard limit. Remember? I told you if anything ever happened involving her again, that would be the end of us.” Then suddenly I hear it. “Caleb, come back to bed,” a woman calls out softly.
Every muscle in my body locks.
“What the…” Caleb says.
My eyes widen so much they hurt. “Caleb?” I whisper.
There’s muffled movement.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he yells, away from his phone.
“I came over like you asked me to, babe. Let’s get naked again and do it in the shower this time.”
My world stops.
My mouth falls open as another sob tears from my chest.
How could he?
“Fuck! Shut up, Sasha, and get the fuck out!”
But I’ve already heard enough.
I end the call.
Pure rage explodes through me so violently it feels like my blood catches fire beneath my skin. My fists clench so tightly my nails slice into my palms, warm blood trickling over my fingers. My breathing comes in harsh, ragged bursts as I stand there shaking uncontrollably beside my car.
Then I scream.
A raw, furious sound tears out of me as I punch the rear passenger window with everything I have. Glass explodes everywhere.
Pain shoots through my hand as shards slice into my skin, but the sting barely registers over the agony ripping through my chest.
Right now, I need to get home.
And somehow figure out how to forget Caleb McCormack-Slade once and for all.