Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 43

The coffee shop sits on the edge of town like an afterthought, the kind of place where conversations happen that people don’t want overheard.

Rachel is already there when I arrive, tucked into a corner booth with her hands wrapped around a mug she hasn’t touched, steam rising between her fingers like ghosts.

She looks different from how I remember her. Older, more guarded, shadows behind her eyes that weren’t there before Lucas destroyed whatever innocence she had left.

Her dark hair is shorter now, and she’s wearing clothes designed to hide rather than reveal—baggy sweater, high neckline, armor disguised as fashion.

“Thank you for coming,” I say, sliding into the booth across from her.

“I wasn’t sure I would.” Her voice is quieter than I remember too, like she’s learned to take up less space in the world. “It’s difficult being here. Facing someone tied to the worst chapter of my life.”

The words hit harder than they should. “Rachel, I’m sorry. If this is too…”

“No.” She shakes her head, finally taking a sip of what looks like tea. “My conscience wouldn’t let me stay away. Not when another girl might suffer what I suffered. History cannot repeat itself.”

She sets down her mug and meets my eyes directly for the first time since I walked in.

“Besides, you were the only one who believed me when everyone else turned away. I’ve never forgotten that.”

The coffee shop buzzes quietly around us—students typing on laptops, an elderly couple sharing a pastry, normal people living normal lives. I wonder what it feels like to be them.

“Tell me about Serena,” Rachel says. “Tell me what he did.”

So I do. I tell her about the Halloween party, about finding Serena in that bedroom with her costume torn and Lucas on top of her.

About the way everyone dismissed it as a “misunderstanding between young men” afterward.

About how Serena is now entertaining an engagement to the man who attacked her, letting his smooth words plant doubt in her mind about what actually happened.

Rachel listens with a grim expression that doesn’t change, like she’s heard this story before in different variations.

“He hasn’t changed,” she says when I finish. “He’s just gotten better at hiding what he is. Better at making his victims question their own reality.”

“Serena keeps making excuses for him. Keeps saying maybe it was just miscommunication, maybe she overreacted.”

“I said the same things.” Rachel’s voice is flat, emotionless. “For months afterward, I convinced myself that maybe I’d misread the situation. Maybe I’d led him on somehow. Maybe I deserved what happened.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know that now. But Lucas is very good at psychological manipulation. He’ll use any crack he can find, guilt, shame, self-doubt, and pry it open until you’re not sure what’s real anymore.”

I lean forward, lowering my voice even though no one is paying attention to us. “Will you talk to her? Serena needs to hear from someone who knows what Lucas is capable of.”

“Of course.” Rachel nods without hesitation. “I’ll reach out to her. Share my story if she’s willing to listen.”

Relief floods through me so powerfully it’s almost dizzying. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy…”

“It’s necessary.” She pauses, studying my face with those perceptive eyes that always saw too much. “But can I ask you something, Caleb?”

“Anything.”

“What’s really going on between you and Serena? And don’t say you’re just a protective stepbrother. I can see it in your face when you talk about her.”

The question catches me off guard, even though I should have expected it. Rachel was always good at reading between the lines, at seeing the things people tried to hide.

I hesitate, but she’s already doing me an enormous favor by agreeing to help Serena. And I’ve always found Rachel easy to talk to, even when we were dating. Maybe especially then.

Rachel continues, her voice taking on a wistful quality.

“We could have had the kind of relationship people write about in wedding announcements—college sweethearts who found their happily ever after.”

I stare down at my untouched coffee, trying to imagine that alternative timeline. Rachel and me at graduation, rings on our fingers and plans for the future.

Sunday dinners with both sets of parents beaming at us across the table. Simple happiness without the constant weight of forbidden love dragging us down.

“It would have been easier,” I admit.

“Easier,” Rachel agrees. “But maybe that’s not always what matters most.”

She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. Her skin is warm, familiar in ways that make my chest ache with nostalgia for simpler times.

“I’m not saying this to complicate things for you, Caleb. I’m saying it because I care about you, and I can see how much pain you’re carrying.”

I don’t know what to say and Rachel keeps going.

“Sometimes the heart wants what it can’t have, and sometimes the things we can have are right in front of us, waiting.”

The words hang in the air between us like a bridge I could cross if I wanted to. A path back to normalcy, to relationships that make sense, to love that doesn’t require choosing between impossible loyalties.

When I drive home an hour later, Rachel’s voice still echoes in my mind. I’m not sure whether her words were a warning or a temptation—and I’m even less sure whether I should bury them or let them grow.