She was halfway down the hall when she heard it, the soft, almost desperate "Stef, wait."
Pathetic.
She didn't stop. Not until she felt his hand around her wrist, fingers curling tight like they had any right, like they remembered what it was to touch her.
She turned slowly. One deadly movement.
And there he was, Caleb. The man who'd watched her world burn and did nothing but light another match.
His face was a mess, torn between shame and anger, and underneath it, something that might've been longing in another life. Too bad he murdered that version of himself.
"What now?" she asked coldly, yanking her wrist free like his touch was acid. "Here to beg? To apologize? To sell me another lie?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Coward.
"Stef, I didn't… I never wanted it to go this far," Caleb said, voice cracking under the weight of a hundred sins. "I didn't know about the baby. Lucy lied to me. She—"
