Chapter 4: The Dinner Table Secret

Sophomore year, spring semester—I started dating Derek. He was still in high school then, a senior with more dreams than plans. Not long after we got together, he got accepted to Lakeview University, his first-choice school.

That summer, we were inseparable, swept up in the dizzy rush of first love. Every late-night text and stolen afternoon felt like our own private world.

Then August came, and everything changed. Summer ended, and we were suddenly a long-distance couple—hundreds of miles apart, missing each other in every spare moment.

I buried myself in my studies, every test and essay feeling like a step closer to closing the gap. When the acceptance letters came, I’d scored well above Lakeview’s cutoff—ten points higher, actually. It felt like fate was giving us a second chance.

After a year of long-distance calls and video chats, we were finally going to be in the same city again. With more than two weeks before classes started, Derek asked me to come to Silver Hollow early—he wanted to show me every corner of his world before school took over. I packed my bags and grabbed the first flight I could.

Derek didn’t live in a dorm like most freshmen. He stayed in a massive house near the university, courtesy of his older brother, Caleb. Caleb was always away for work, rarely home, so for the most part, it was just Derek in that big place.

The house had three floors—high ceilings, echoing hallways, and views of old oak trees out back. Derek told me I could use a guest room, and everything seemed set.

But on the day I arrived, Derek had a last-minute thing and couldn’t get to the airport. Instead, it was Caleb’s assistant, Marcus, who picked me up. Marcus was all business, his voice brisk but polite. "Miss Brooks, let me help with your bags. Your room’s the first guest room on the second floor."

He gave me a quick tour and left, his footsteps echoing away. The house felt huge and empty. I dragged my suitcase up the stairs and opened the first door. The room was spotless, everything perfectly in place. I figured it was a guest room—what else could it be?

But it wasn’t. It was Caleb’s master bedroom. If I’d checked the closet, I would’ve seen rows of men’s suits and pajamas, neat as a department store. I dropped my bag, too tired to notice. Later that night, after a marathon of meetings and a late dinner, Caleb came home—still in his suit, the faintest trace of whiskey on him.

That night, Caleb had the housekeeper lay out a feast—steak, roasted veggies, fresh bread. The chandelier cast a warm glow over the long table, though it was just the three of us. Derek and I sat side by side, Caleb across from us, posture perfect.

Caleb looked every inch the part—sharp jaw, cool eyes, the kind of polished confidence that made me sit up straighter. He was five years older than Derek and had the air of someone used to being in charge. Heir to Brooks Holdings, the kind of old-money family business that made people in town pay attention.

Derek was his opposite—easygoing, always joking. With Derek, everything felt simple, like nothing could go wrong.

"Natalie, eat more," Derek urged, stacking pancakes on my plate, drowning them in syrup until they nearly slid off the edge. "Enough, enough! Do you think I’m a pig?" I laughed, batting his hand away.

Caleb cleared his throat—a quiet signal you couldn’t miss. Derek and I both froze, like kids sneaking snacks before dinner.

But Derek just grinned and switched gears. "Bro, do you have a girlfriend now?" he teased, eyes sparkling. "Why’s your neck so red? Looks like someone scratched you. Could it be…"

He waggled his eyebrows. I nearly choked on my water. The red marks on Caleb’s collar were painfully obvious—my marks. My face went nuclear.

"Natalie, eat slowly, don’t rush," Derek said, patting my back and ribbing his brother. "Seriously, if you ever brought home a girlfriend, Mom would probably faint from shock."

He kept going, but my hands shook under the table. All I could think was: I did that. Those marks were mine.

Caleb didn’t flinch. He straightened, smoothed his collar, and said, "I scratched it myself. Stop making things up." His voice was so dry and deadpan I almost believed him.

Derek squinted. "Really not?"

"No."

"Makes sense," Derek shot back. "With your workaholic, monk-like personality, if you had a girlfriend, the sun would rise in the west."

Relief washed over me. Caleb didn’t look at me, didn’t show a thing.

"Enough, let’s eat," he said, shutting it down. Derek took the hint and dropped it. Just like that, the moment passed. But I knew this wasn’t something either of us would forget.

At the last second, Caleb had stopped himself that night. He hadn’t truly hurt me. I clung to that, letting myself breathe again.