Chapter 50 Turns Out Caleb Was Real All Along
TURNS OUT CALEB WAS REAL ALL ALONG
IZZY
There are cops everywhere.
Flashing lights, voices on radios, officers moving in and out of the warehouse. It's a scene straight out of a crime drama, only this time, I'm in it. The brisk night air nips at my exposed skin, carrying the scent of the nearby Hudson River mingled with diesel from the police vehicles.
I sit on the back of an ambulance, a scratchy wool blanket wrapped around my shoulders—Amanda's doing.
She practically threw it at me before marching off to argue with a cop about jurisdiction, purely for the sake of making herself a nuisance.
The blanket smells faintly of antiseptic and feels heavy against my shoulders, but I welcome its warmth.
I glance over at Cal. He suggested we leave since he'd already spoken to the officers and given them his statement.
We were just waiting for Evan to be led out in handcuffs.
He told me I didn't need to see that, but I insisted I did.
Cal nodded like he understood my need for closure, so now we're sitting here, waiting beneath the harsh glow of the emergency lights.
He's next to me, sitting still, his hands clasped together, knuckles scraped and bruised, fingers curled tight against his palms. His shirt is spattered with dark stains I try not to think about too much.
But his hands are shaking slightly.
I thread my fingers through his, feeling the textured strength of his hand, his heat seeping into my cold skin.
His head turns toward me immediately. His hands instantly go still.
I squeeze gently.
"Thank you," I whisper.
I can see the guilt in his eyes as he exhales through his nose, before looking away. "I should have seen it sooner," he mutters. "Shouldn't have gotten distracted. I let you get taken. I told you I'd always be watching and I wasn't."
I shake my head softly, my hair brushing against the wool blanket. "But you got here. That's what matters."
He stares at me for a long second, clearly wanting to argue. There's a fire in his eyes that makes my heart flutter, even with exhaustion dragging at my limbs.
Finally, he exhales, rubbing his thumb against the inside of my wrist. The gentle circular motion of his thumb sends a wave of comfort through my body.
My other hand drifts absently to his dog tags still hanging beneath my shirt. I twist the chain around my fingers.
His eyes notice the movement. “You’re wearing them?”
I nod, unable to meet his eyes. “Every day.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then shifts slightly, reaching into his jacket pocket. When he pulls his hand out, there’s a flash of familiar blue glass between his fingers.
“Been carrying it around like a lunatic.”
An officer starts walking toward us, notebook in hand, but Amanda intercepts immediately—hands on her hips, already launching into a rapid-fire speech about proper procedure and victim rights. The poor guy doesn't stand a chance.
Cal and I watch for a moment before I shake my head.
"Who the hell is Amanda?" I mutter, my lips curving into a small smile.
He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have no idea."
I exhale, leaning into him, sinking into the warmth of his side and the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. My body molds naturally against his larger frame. The adrenaline fades, leaving behind bone-deep exhaustion and profound relief that makes my muscles feel like liquid.
Then I lift my head, curiosity getting the better of me. My hair falls across my face, and I tuck it behind my ear.
"How did you know where I was?"
He tenses immediately, muscles going rigid beneath my touch. I half-expect him not to answer.
"I had access to your phone," he admits finally, voice rough, like saying it is almost painful. "I hacked into it my first day at the store. Huge violation of trust. I shouldn't have—"
I press my fingers to his lips, stopping him. His lips are surprisingly soft against my fingertips.
He blinks.
"Cal.” My words are calm. "I'm glad you did."
His brows furrow in confusion. "What?"
I shrug lightly, the blanket slipping slightly off my shoulder. "I know it sounds crazy, but thank God you did. You saved me."
His entire body relaxes slightly, the tension draining from his shoulders.
I rest my head against him. "It's kind of nice, you know?" I murmur softly. "Having someone who's a completely dedicated protector for you. Makes you feel valued."
A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest as his arm curls around my shoulders, pulling me close. His warmth seeps through my sweater, chasing away the chill that had settled in my bones.
The tension inside me unravels as I lean into Cal's embrace. For the first time since waking up in the warehouse with its concrete floors and musty air, I finally feel safe. I close my eyes briefly, then turn my face toward him, my nose brushing against the stubble on his jaw.
"I know, by the way."
His grip tightens slightly. "Know what, pretty girl?"
I smile softly. "I know you're Caleb."
His entire body stiffens. He turns to me fully now, eyes wide and vulnerable, reflecting the blue and red lights flashing around us.
"Izzy... what?" His voice cracks slightly.
I squeeze his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm against mine.
“I first started to suspect it when Caleb called me ‘Izzy’ from time to time.” I let out a breathy laugh.
“The chat history didn’t disappear, and when I sobered up, I went back and reread our conversations.
At first, I thought maybe the app knew my real name from my credit card or something, so I wasn’t completely positive.
But I knew for sre when you called me ‘pretty girl’ in the car yesterday. ”
His brows knit together, but I keep going, watching his expression shift in the wavering light.
"It clicked right then," I explain gently. "You hesitated—just slightly. You never hesitate. But you did then, and I noticed."
His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Then why did you keep—?"
I shrug. "It was fun."
His jaw slackens in surprise, his eyes widening.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at his expression. "I liked talking to Caleb," I admit quietly. "My relationship with him developed differently from ours. It made me comfortable. Besides, since I did suspect it was you all along, no harm done. I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
His expression shifts, confusion turning to relief, the crease between his brows softening. "You're not... mad?"
I shake my head slightly, my hair brushing against his shoulder. “I don’t like that you kept something like that from me," I admit, tracing a pattern on his palm with my index finger. "But you didn't use it in a negative way or to manipulate me, so... I can forgive you."
Cal frowns. “But I did manipulate you. I encouraged you to break up with Evan, to admit your feelings to me.”
I look up at him, meeting his gaze. “I think it’s different.
You never backed me into a corner or made me feel like I had no other choice.
You just… believed in me. Encouraged me to do what was best for myself.
Evan manipulated me by using control to make me feel worse about myself.
But you? You gave me the confidence to make my own decisions. ”
Cal’s expression softens, a flicker of relief passing over his features. “I never wanted to take away your choice. I only wanted to support you in making the right ones for yourself.”
I lean into him again, resting my head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulses against my ear, a reassuring beat that drowns out the chaos around us.
He lets out a slow, shaky exhale.
"Is that why you wouldn't sleep with me?"
I tilt my head, watching his expression shift, his brows pulling together, his lips parting just slightly.
"That's why, isn't it?" I murmur, my voice softer now.
His fingers flex against my shoulder, and I watch as one single tear slips down his cheek.
I reach up, brush it away with my thumb, my heart squeezing at the sight of him—this strong, powerful man who's showing me something he doesn't show anyone else.
His skin is warm beneath my touch, the tear cool against my thumb.
He nods. Swallows. "I didn't think it was right," he murmurs. "To keep something like that from you. When I took you for the first time, I wanted it to be real. Pure. Not tainted by a lie."
A warmth spreads through my chest, radiating outward to my fingertips, and I smile.
"Well," I say softly, watching as his breath stutters. "Good thing that's out of the way now."
Evan being hauled out in handcuffs interrupts us.
Cal stiffens, watching Evan dragged toward a police car, blood dripping from his swollen face, eyes full of rage—and defeat. Evan's once-pristine button-down shirt is torn and stained, his designer shoes scuffing against the pavement as the officers guide him forward.
Relief washes over me.
He's gone.
Really gone.
I feel it ease through me—my shoulders drop, my jaw unclenches, and for the first time in what feels like years, I can actually breathe.
My body doesn’t feel braced for impact. I glance up at Cal.
He's watching me carefully, like he's trying to gauge my reaction, like he's ready to catch me if I start falling apart.
The concern in his eyes makes my heart swell.
But I don't feel like falling apart. I feel like fighting. Because Evan doesn't get to control this narrative or own this part of my life. I'm not going to let him walk away believing he's defeated me.
"I'm going to call the district attorney in the morning," I say aloud, my voice stronger than it's been all night. "I'm going to testify."
Cal wraps an arm around my shoulders and his fingers squeeze gently. His touch feels reassuring, like he's telling me without words that he's proud of me.
"Hey!"
Amanda's voice cuts through the night air.
She's approaching with a police officer behind her.
A very attractive police officer who has an easy smile and a broad-shouldered frame straight from a men-in-uniform calendar.
His badge gleams under the emergency lights, his uniform pressed and neat despite the late hour.
"This is Chad the Cop," Amanda announces, gesturing dramatically.
I barely hold back the snort pressing against my throat. Above me, I see Cal raise a solitary eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly.
Amanda throws me a look that says, "Don't."
I clear my throat and school my expression, feeling the muscles in my face work to remain neutral. "Chad the Cop," I repeat, extending my hand.
Chad the Cop nods, shaking my hand firmly. "Ma'am."
Amanda beams, flipping her glossy hair over her shoulder. "Chad is driving me home. It's been a very trying day." She adjusts her designer handbag over her shoulder.
Cal mutters something unintelligible under his breath, his chest rumbling against my side.
Amanda flips her hair over her shoulder and climbs into Chad the Cop's police car with practiced grace, speeding off into the night like she just cracked the case herself, the taillights disappearing around the corner.
Cal and I stare after her before we burst out laughing. The sound bubbles up from deep in my chest, unexpected but welcome. Because of course Amanda would. I'm still smiling, the muscles in my cheeks aching pleasantly, when Cal suddenly lifts me off my feet in one fluid motion.
"What the—?!" The blanket falls from my shoulders, landing in a heap on the ground.
He doesn't break stride as he carries me toward my car effortlessly, one arm supporting my back, the other beneath my knees. "We're going home," he murmurs firmly.
My heart flutters at the word, a burst of warmth spreading through my chest despite the cool night air against my skin.
Home.
I melt into his arms, pressing my face into his neck, breathing him in. His pulse beats steadily against my lips.
Yeah.
We're going home.