Page 172 of Fame & Chaos

“Get the fuck out of here!” I scream before slamming the door shut.

Kenzi rushes over, staring in horror at the egg splattered across my pajamas, hair, and skin. “What the actual fuck?”

And that’s it.

The final crack.

Tears explode from me again as I break down sobbing.

Caleb did this.

He made me into London’s most hated woman, and now I’m not even safe in my own home.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Okay, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Kenzi guides me back toward my bedroom while I cry silently. “I don’t care what you say, Indi. You’re coming back to my place until this blows over.”

And for the first time in years, I don’t even try arguing.

“Okay,” I whisper as I peel off my ruined top and start wiping egg from my face in more ways than one.

Chapter Thirty

Caleb

A pounding headache and ache in my chest refuse to ease as I roll over in bed. Watching Indi drive away last night was torture I never want to experience again. Seeing her that devastated made me physically sick, especially knowing I caused it.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making her feel that way.

There’s no denying it either.

No excuses.

No way to twist the situation into something it wasn’t.

I fucked up.

Massively.

I slept with someone else.

Yeah, Indi and I technically weren’t together at the time, and yeah, she’d been messing with my head with all her mixed signals, but none of that gave me the right to fuck some random minutes after I was about to make love to the woman I’ve always loved.

Nothing changes that fact.

And I’ve hated myself every second since.

I walked all the way home in the pouring rain, carrying her giant pink teddy bear like some pathetic, lovesick idiot while thunder cracked across the sky loud enough to rival the pounding in my chest.

I have made the biggest mistake of my life.

At least with Maddie, I stopped things before they went too far—this time I didn’t. And honestly? I deserve every ounce of pain clawing through me right now. But Indi doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

I wish I could take it away from her. I wish I could call her and somehow make her understand I was drunk, confused, angry, and completely out of my fucking mind. I wish I could convince her it meant nothing that she’s the only woman who’s ever mattered.

But I know none of that changes what I did.

And I know she’s never going to forgive me for it.

Truthfully, I probably don’t deserve forgiveness anyway.