Chapter 2: Birthday Morning Breakdown

On my birthday, Caleb had me up before dawn, promising a surprise.

He showed up with diner coffee and a wrapped package, his lips twitching at the edges. I half-expected a drive out to the old overlook, but instead we cruised down Main Street, windows rolled down, letting in the chill of morning air.

But as soon as we hit Main Street, Caleb spotted the heroine getting hassled in an alley.

It was the kind of trouble you didn’t expect in Maple Heights—voices too loud, shadows moving by the hardware store. Caleb’s grip tightened on the wheel, jaw working as he stared.

He watched, cold and silent, and told me not to interfere.

His eyes never left the alley. "Stay in the car," he said, voice flat. His whole body was wound tight, and my own fingers itched to reach for the door, but I knew better than to cross him right then.

But when the city councilman’s son brushed her sleeve, something in Caleb snapped and he was out the door.

He shoved the car door open so hard it bounced, striding fast toward the commotion. Before I knew it, he was right in the middle of things.

He beat the guy hard, fists cracking against flesh, and then went for the tire iron in the trunk.

It was ugly—too ugly for our little town. The slap of knuckles, shouts from the crowd, then Caleb yanking a tire iron from the battered Ford. The alley felt tight and mean, the sounds bouncing off brick and metal.

I hurried over, stepping between them, trying to talk him down.

I wedged myself between Caleb and the councilman’s son, hands up, voice low. "Caleb, you can’t do this. Not here, not now. People are watching."

But his eyes were bloodshot. "Move aside, or I’ll hurt you too."

I wanted to believe I was untouchable—his one safe place. But the look in his eyes said he’d forgotten me, just like everyone else.

I thought, after all our years together, he’d never actually hurt me.

My mind flashed with all our old memories—fending off bullies, scraping together gas money, sharing late-night confessions. Surely, surely—

But he didn’t hesitate. He swung the tire iron into my left shoulder. A white-hot bolt shot through my arm, but worse was the gut-punch of betrayal. I’d always thought he’d stop for me.

As he raised it again, Rachel Summers—her eyes red—grabbed his wrist.

Rachel reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. "Caleb," she said, her voice barely more than a breath, but somehow it cut through the chaos.

That gentle call snapped him out of it.

Like a switch flipping, Caleb’s grip on the tire iron loosened. His shoulders sagged, the rage bleeding out of him. He looked lost.

He let go of the tire iron, careful not to scare her.

He stepped away, dropping the iron with a hollow clang. The crowd shifted, uneasy, the violence hanging thick in the air.

I was shaking, pain blurring my vision, almost collapsing.

My knees threatened to buckle, but I forced myself to stand tall. If he wanted a show, I’d give him one. I clutched my arm, blood soaking through my shirt, refusing to fall in front of these people.

Caleb’s attention was all on Rachel, his look so intense the world faded away.

He didn’t spare me a glance. His eyes softened as he looked at Rachel, as if she was the only one left in the world. The crowd, the blood, the chaos—none of it mattered to him.

After a moment, their gaze broke.

It was like someone let the air back in. People shuffled their feet, the cold breeze biting through my torn shirt. I wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Caleb took Rachel’s hand and led her away, not once looking back.

He moved with purpose, guiding Rachel to his truck. She glanced over her shoulder at me—sympathy in her eyes—but said nothing. The door slammed, the engine roared, and they sped off down Main Street.

He looked back at me coldly and ordered, "Alex, take the councilman’s son home, and apologize to the councilman for me."

He didn’t even roll down the window. His voice was flat, all business. The crowd parted, some muttering, others refusing to meet my eyes. Maple Heights felt smaller than ever.

The pain in my shoulder was so bad I could barely breathe. His words made me stagger.

It was like he’d cracked something inside me that wasn’t just bone. I managed a stiff nod, jaw clenched so I wouldn’t cry in front of the town gossips.

But Caleb drove away, leaving the mess—and me—behind without a backward glance.

The taillights faded, and I stood there, blood soaking my shirt, suddenly and stupidly alone.

I watched his silhouette disappear and let out a long sigh.

Seven years—really? If you want to win the girl and leave me as the sidekick, fine, I can live with that. But did you have to hit me?

It really hurts.

I rubbed my shoulder, biting back a curse, and wondered if the universe just liked a cruel punchline.