Chapter Three
The night felt suffocating, like the city had wrapped itself in a damp blanket and dared anyone to breathe.
Catherine kept her distance as she followed Caleb down the narrow, overheated street. The air smelled like asphalt and rain that never came. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck, her heartbeat loud enough that she was sure someone could hear it—maybe even him.
Caleb walked fast. Too fast for a man who claimed he was “just getting some air.”
He didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t act like a husband taking a harmless nighttime walk. No—his shoulders were tight, steps sharp, movements a little too purposeful. Like a man who had somewhere to be… or someone.
Catherine’s fingers curled around the chain of her purse to stop them from trembling.
This was crazy. She knew it was crazy. She had never followed anyone in her life, not even in college when she’d pretended not to care about boys who didn’t text back. But here she was—heels clicking as quietly as they could manage, breath shallow, praying he wouldn’t turn around and catch her like some jealous cliché.
The worst part? She wasn’t sure what she hoped to find. Proof she was paranoid… or proof she wasn’t.
A motorcycle roared past them, splitting the night. Caleb didn’t flinch—just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and cut into a side street Catherine barely recognized. A darker one. A quieter one.
“Caleb,” she whispered under her breath, frustration mixing with fear, “what are you doing out here?”
Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she slipped into the same alley, pressing herself against a brick wall still radiating heat from the day. She peeked around the corner.
Caleb stopped beneath a flickering streetlamp.
He checked his phone.
He looked up the street.
He waited.
Her stomach dropped.
Waited for who?
A drop of sweat slid down her spine, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or the panic crawling up her ribs. What if he wasn’t alone tonight? What if this was the reason he’d been distant, cold, unreachable?
Her pulse spiked so hard she felt it in her teeth.
Then—his head jerked slightly.
He turned.
For one terrifying second, Catherine was sure his eyes landed right on her shadowed corner. Her breath froze mid-inhalation. Her nails dug into the brick behind her.
But Caleb only lifted his phone again, jaw tense.
A message. He typed something. Quick. Familiar. Comfortably quick.
Catherine’s chest tightened.
He pocketed the phone, exhaled sharply, and—without warning—started walking again. Faster. Almost running now.
“Damn it,” she whispered, pushing off the wall and following him into the pulsing night.
Because she suddenly knew something with sickening clarity:
Caleb wasn’t just going somewhere.
He was meeting someone.
And Catherine was officially done pretending she didn’t feel the knife twisting.