Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 65

The night before everything changes, I find Caleb at the clearing.

Our place now—shared territory, the one corner of the world where we don’t have to pretend.

The old swing creaks beneath my weight as I settle beside him, our breath fogging in the cold air. Moonlight filters through the bare branches overhead, casting silver patterns across the frozen ground.

“Rachel confirmed she’ll be there.” Caleb’s voice is low, steady. “She’s bringing Jessica too. They’ll wait until you give the signal.”

“And Mia?”

“Front row. Ready to back you up the moment things go sideways.”

I nod, running through the plan in my head for the hundredth time. The objective is simple: I refuse the engagement publicly.

When Lucas retaliates, and he will, inevitably, Rachel’s testimony will be ready to counter whatever narrative he tries to spin.

Two victims with matching stories. Evidence of a pattern the Bennett lawyers can’t easily dismiss.

“He’s not going to go down quietly.” Caleb turns to face me, his expression serious. “You know that, right? The second you reject him in front of all those people, he’ll play the blackmail card.”

“I know.”

“He’ll threaten to expose us. Right there, in front of both families, in front of everyone who matters.” His jaw tightens. “He’ll try to burn everything down to save himself.”

“Then we outplay him.”

I meet his eyes without flinching.

“We strike before he has a chance to use his leverage. And even if he does try—who’s going to believe a rapist? By the time he opens his mouth, the whole room will know exactly what kind of man he is.”

“It’s a gamble.”

“I know.” I exhale slowly, watching my breath dissolve into the darkness. “But doing nothing isn’t an option anymore.”

Silence settles between us, comfortable and heavy all at once. The swing sways gently, chains groaning with rust and age.

“I can’t stop thinking about your mother’s face.” The confession slips out before I can stop it. “The way she looked at us in that doorway—the terror, the disappointment…”

Caleb doesn’t respond immediately. He stares out at the trees, his profile sharp against the moonlit sky.

“My father couldn’t even look at me during breakfast this morning.” I wrap my arms tighter around myself. “Like he was seeing a stranger wearing his daughter’s face.”

“They’re processing.”

“They’re disgusted.” The word tastes bitter. “And maybe they should be. Maybe what we have is exactly as wrong as they think it is.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

I turn to face him, searching for answers in those familiar blue eyes.

“All I know is that loving you, something that feels so right when we’re alone, causes so much devastation to everyone around us. It makes me question everything.”

Caleb listens quietly, his expression calm, almost peaceful. The contrast to my internal chaos is maddening.

“How can you be so calm?” The frustration bleeds into my voice. “Our entire family just discovered us. Everything is falling apart. And you’re sitting here like none of it matters.”

“Because I’m not ashamed.” He says it simply, without hesitation. “Not of my feelings, not of what happened between us, not of anything we’ve done.”

“Caleb…”

“I knew from the start that loving you would come with consequences.”

He shifts on the swing to face me fully.

“I made that choice anyway. I’d make it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day for the rest of my life if I had to.”

“How can you say that? After everything…”

“Shame is for people who regret their actions.” His hand finds mine in the darkness, fingers interlacing with a certainty that makes my heart ache. “I don’t regret a single moment with you, Serena. Not one.”

I stare at him, searching for cracks in that conviction, for any sign that he’s performing with confidence he doesn’t feel. There’s nothing there but steady, unwavering certainty.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed either.”

His thumb brushes across my knuckles.

“What we have isn’t a mistake. I don’t care how the world sees it, or how our parents see it, or how anyone else chooses to judge us. I know what this is. I know what you are to me.”

“And what am I to you?”

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