Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 63

Serena’s POV

Panic has a way of stripping everything down to what matters most—and what matters most is rarely what we expect.

I find Caleb in his room, and the words tumble out before I can organize them into anything coherent.

“The party is happening this week.”

My voice comes out strangled, breathless.

“Lucas is pushing the timeline. He convinced our parents to host a formal engagement celebration on Saturday, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Caleb is on his feet immediately, crossing the room to close the door behind me. “Slow down. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“His parents talked to ours last night. They presented it like a gift—a beautiful party to celebrate our union, announce the engagement to society, make everything official and irrevocable.”

I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Something has shifted, Caleb. He’s pushing harder than ever. It’s like he suspects something, like he knows the walls are closing in and he’s racing to lock me down before anyone can stop him.”

“Did your father agree?”

“He didn’t see a reason not to.”

The bitter laugh that escapes my throat sounds nothing like me.

“Serena hasn’t objected, Serena seems happy. Why wouldn’t they throw a party for their happy daughter and her perfect fiancé?”

Caleb’s jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm. “We’ll fix this.”

“How? The party is in six days.”

The panic claws higher in my chest.

“Rachel’s case isn’t ready. We don’t have enough evidence to expose him, and once that party happens, once the photographs are published and the announcements go out, backing out becomes almost impossible.”

“Then we make sure it doesn’t get that far.”

He takes my shoulders in his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’ll contact Rachel tonight. We’ll find out exactly how close we are to having enough to bury him. There has to be a way.”

“What if there isn’t?”

“There is.” His grip tightens, steady and sure. “We just need a little more time. We’ll find a way, Serena. I promise.”

I desperately want to believe him.

I want to wrap myself in that certainty and let it shield me from the terror that’s been building since Lucas whispered about our future children while our parents chatted in the next room.

“I’m scared.” The admission slips out before I can stop it. “I’ve never been this scared of anything in my life.”

“I know.” His voice softens. “I know you are.”

The vulnerability of the moment draws us together without either of us meaning it to happen. We’re standing too close, breathing the same air, his hands still warm on my shoulders.

When he takes my trembling fingers in his, neither of us pulls away.

The touch lingers. His thumb traces absent patterns across my knuckles, soothing and maddening all at once.

I watch the movement, hypnotized by the gentleness of it, by the way his calloused fingers handle mine like something precious.

When I look up, his eyes are already on my face.

The air between us shifts, thickening with something neither of us meant to summon.

I become aware of how close we’re standing—close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough to count the flecks of darker blue in his irises.

His gaze drops to my mouth for just a fraction of a second, and the breath catches in my throat.

“Serena.” My name comes out rough, warning and question wrapped together.

I want to argue. Want to insist I’m fine, that I want this, that he should stop being so damn perceptive and just let me escape into something that feels good for once.

But exhaustion wins. The adrenaline that’s been fueling my panic drains away, leaving nothing but bone-deep weariness in its wake. The tension melts from my body, and I let myself sink into his warmth.

“I hate that you’re right.” The words come out muffled against his chest.

“I know.” His arm tightens around my waist. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

We fall asleep tangled together, still in our underwear, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. The world outside this room, Lucas, the party, the impossible future bearing down on us, fades into distant noise.

It’s the safest I’ve felt in weeks.

***

Morning arrives too quickly.

I surface from sleep slowly, warm and comfortable, not yet remembering where I am or whose body lies pressed against mine.

The details filter in gradually—the weight of an arm across my waist, the rhythm of breathing that isn’t my own, the unfamiliar angle of sunlight through windows that don’t face the same direction as mine.

I keep my eyes closed, savoring the peace. Just a few more minutes, just a little longer before reality crashes back in.

The door opens without warning. My eyes fly open.

“Caleb, I don’t mean to wake you up, but…” Catherine doesn’t finish.

She stands in the doorway, laundry basket in hand, frozen mid-step. Her face drains of color as she takes in the scene—her son and her stepdaughter, half-naked, wrapped around each other in his bed.

The laundry basket slips from her fingers and hits the floor with a soft thud that sounds like the end of everything.