Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 48

Victory tastes different when you’re limping across the finish line with your ankle screaming and your conscience heavy enough to drown in.

I push through the front door with an envelope full of cash in my jacket and a limp I can’t quite hide. One more race, just one, and the debt is finished.

Two years of risking my neck on that circuit, two years of paying for my father’s sins with speed and recklessness, and after tonight I’m finally free.

But freedom came with a cost.

I hit the gas too early on the final turn, felt the car shudder beneath me as I overcorrected, twisted my ankle hard enough against the pedal that white spots exploded behind my eyes.

The pain is manageable now, minor, really, nothing that won’t heal in a few days, but every step sends a dull ache radiating up my leg that I can’t completely mask.

Serena is coming down the stairs when I walk in. She stops halfway, her hand frozen on the banister, those grey-green eyes traveling over me with the precision of a surgeon cataloging damage.

The limp, the bulge of the envelope visible through my jacket, the evidence of exactly what I’ve been doing while she slept.

Her expression hardens into something cold and unforgiving.

She doesn’t say a word. Just continues past me toward the door, grabbing her jacket from the hook with sharp, deliberate movements that speak louder than any accusation.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” The word falls flat between us, stripped of warmth or explanation.

“Serena.”

“I’m seeing Lucas.” She shrugs on her jacket without looking at me. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

I move before I can think better of it, stepping between her and the door, blocking her path with my body despite the protest from my injured ankle.

“You’re not going anywhere near him tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Her chin lifts, defiance blazing in her eyes. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Rachel hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts since yesterday.”

I keep my voice steady, controlled, even as dread coils tighter in my chest.

“She’s gone silent, Serena. Completely. And you want to run off to Lucas like nothing’s wrong?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you.” Serena’s voice drips with acid. “Did you consider that? Maybe she’s tired of being dragged into your schemes without her consent.”

“My schemes?”

“You sent her to warn me.” The accusation lands with the force of a thrown punch. “Behind my back, without asking, like I’m some helpless weakling who can’t handle her own problems. That wasn’t your decision to make.”

I seize on her words, something sharp and urgent cutting through my anger. “What do you mean, warn you? What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Serena.”

She hesitates, and I watch the internal battle play across her features—the pride warring with something darker, something she doesn’t want to admit. Her shoulders drop half an inch, the fight draining out of her posture.

“Lucas saw me talking to Rachel at the restaurant.” Her voice comes quieter now, stripped of its earlier venom. “He got upset. Lost his temper for a second.”

“Lost his temper, how?”

“He snapped at me, okay?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, a defensive shield against the concern she must see in my eyes.

“Told me to stay away from her. But he apologized right after. He explained that he knows those people, knows what they’re capable of, and he just wants to protect me from their influence.”

Protect you. The words taste like poison in my mouth.

I squeeze her hand gently, an anchor instead of a cage.

“For your own safety. Just until we figure out what’s happening. Tell Lucas you’re feeling unwell, make up whatever excuse you need—but stay away from him. Please.”

The please costs me something. It always does, asking instead of demanding, trusting instead of controlling.

Serena looks at me for a long moment, searching my face for deception she won’t find. Then she nods, once, the movement small but certain.

“Okay.”

Her hand remains in mine. Neither of us pulls away.

The moment stretches between us, fragile and quiet, something almost like peace settling over the tension that’s defined us for so long.

I let myself breathe, let the knot in my chest loosen just slightly, let hope take root in the barren soil of everything we’ve been fighting.

Then a knock shatters the stillness.

We both tense, the peace evaporating like morning fog.

I rise from the couch, positioning myself between Serena and the door, every muscle coiled for confrontation despite the pain still throbbing in my ankle.

Another knock—frantic this time, desperate.

Rachel’s voice comes from the other side, thin and shaking with barely contained terror.

“Caleb? Please. I need help.”