Chapter 2: The Unforgivable Mistake

I shoved him away, my heart pounding so hard I thought I’d faint. My hand shot out for the lamp, flooding the room with harsh yellow light.

There, caught in the glare, was Caleb. His features were sharp, his dark hair tousled. He looked lost, dazed, the pink flush of alcohol across his pale skin betraying him.

Panic squeezed my chest. I could barely breathe. I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Caleb, why are you in my room?" I couldn’t process what just happened—not yet. Caleb was always the grown-up, the one who’d never cross a line. There had to be some explanation. Maybe he was just as confused as I was.

Caleb pressed his fingers to his forehead, squinting like he was fighting off a headache. His gaze sharpened, scanning the room, then landed on me. Annoyance flashed across his face.

"This is my room," he snapped. "And whatever just happened, I’m sorry. I thought I was dreaming."

My hands clutched the comforter, trembling. My breath came quick and shallow, panic flaring in my chest.

"Bro, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" Derek’s voice was right outside now. My stomach dropped to my toes.

My nightgown was twisted, my hair a mess, my neck burning with proof of what happened. If Derek saw me like this—I’d die of shame.

But Caleb stayed calm, looking ten years older than either of us. "Don’t come in yet," he called, his voice calm, but there was no arguing with it.

Derek sounded confused. "Huh? What’s wrong? Sorry, man, did I wake you? But I really need to—"

While Derek rambled, his voice muffled by the thick door, Caleb strode to the closet, grabbed a crisp shirt, and tossed it to me. His eyes darted to the bathroom. I got the message. I bolted, tugging on the shirt—it smelled like fresh detergent and something deeply masculine—then ducked into the bathroom, heart thudding. I locked the door, hands shaking so badly it took two tries.

Through the door, Caleb’s voice stayed smooth and controlled. "What is it?"

The door opened and Derek’s voice grew louder. "Where’s Natalie? I checked both guest rooms and didn’t see her. Didn’t I say I had something to do this afternoon and asked you to have someone pick her up? Where is she? Her phone’s off, I was worried—"

Caleb cut in, steady as ever. "I had Marcus pick her up this afternoon. But her flight was delayed and she didn’t arrive until eight. The guest rooms weren’t ready, so I had Marcus book a hotel near the airport for her. Don’t worry, she’s fine and safe."

In the bathroom, I fumbled for my phone. It was on silent, lit up with a string of missed calls and texts from Derek. Guilt and panic twisted in my stomach. I typed quickly:

[Derek, my phone just died.]

[Your brother booked a hotel for me. I’m already in bed. He said Marcus will pick me up tomorrow, so don’t worry.]

I heard Derek’s phone buzz. "Hey, Natalie just messaged me." There was a pause, then relief. "I trust big brother to handle things. Since Natalie’s fine, I’m relieved. Sorry, man, for waking you up in the middle of the night."

Caleb’s tone was cool. "It’s fine. Go back to your room and get some rest."

"Okay."

Derek’s footsteps faded down the hall, the door clicking shut. For the first time since the chaos started, I let out a shaky breath and leaned hard against the bathroom door, waiting for my pulse to slow.

But as Caleb’s eyes flicked to mine, I knew this wasn’t something either of us would forget soon.