Chapter 43: Caught

He pulled away from the kiss after a moment.

And I don’t know how long we stood there, frozen under the harsh spray of the shower—two people who should’ve walked away from each other a long time ago, yet somehow kept colliding like this was the only ending we were destined for.

Kevin’s breath hovered close to my mouth, warm enough to battle the cold drops rolling down my skin. My whole body felt suspended in this strange, unbearable place between wanting him and wanting to run from him. Maybe that’s why I didn’t move. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t.

He didn’t touch me at first. He just stayed there, chest heaving, eyes locked on mine like he was trying to find an answer written somewhere deep inside me. I felt stripped down by that look—more exposed than the wet fabric clinging to my skin could ever make me.

I could tell he was fighting himself. The tension radiating off him was too real, too raw. His jaw was tight, like he was holding himself back by a thread. And God, something about that—about knowing I wasn’t the only one falling apart—made the air between us feel even hotter despite the cold water hitting us without mercy.

My hands were trembling, but they weren’t shaking from fear. It was something else. Something I didn’t want to name because naming it meant admitting how deep I’d let him into places I swore were locked.

“Abby…” he murmured, voice husky in a way that made my chest tighten. He wasn’t even touching me, and still I felt him everywhere.

I swallowed, hard. “Kevin… we— you can’t—”

But the words died the second his forehead gently touched mine. Just that. Just the slightest contact. And somehow it felt like everything I’d been holding inside ripped open at once.

I felt my breathing stutter. My fingers twitched at my sides, wanting to reach for him, wanting to grip something solid before my knees gave out. I hated how easy it was for him to undo me like this… how unfair it felt that someone who confused me more than anyone else could also make me feel so alive.

The warmth of him pressed against the cold tile behind me, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away. My heart was a mess—loud, frantic, and all over the place. There was something electric in the tiny gap between us, something no amount of reasoning could smother.

He finally lifted his hand, slow enough for me to stop him if I wanted to. I didn’t.

His fingers brushed my cheek in the softest, almost hesitant way—like he wasn’t sure if he deserved to touch me. That tenderness was what undid me more than anything. Because Kevin wasn’t soft with many people. He wasn’t careful. But with me… he always was, even when he was angry, even when he was frustrated, even when we were both drowning in everything we weren’t saying.

The water kept sliding down his face, dripping from his jaw, tracing down the side of his neck. I watched one drop fall onto my chest, and something inside me cracked open.

Heat pooled inside me, rising, spreading, turning my thoughts into static. I felt drawn to him in a way that scared me—like there was some invisible force pulling us together again and again no matter how hard we tried to pretend it didn’t exist.

His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, slow and deliberate. And in that moment, everything—the anger, the hurt, the fear—blurred into something dangerously close to longing.

My lips parted without me thinking. His breath hitched. My fingers, acting on their own, curled into the front of his soaked shirt.

The chemistry between us wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t gentle. It was loud and reckless, vibrating through the tiny space between our bodies like a wildfire waiting for the smallest spark.

I don’t know who moved first. Him, me, both of us at once—too tired of resisting, too exhausted from pretending we didn’t feel what we felt.

All I knew was that the moment our foreheads stayed pressed together, and the moment his hand slid to the back of my neck with quiet desperation, the world tilted.

I wanted him.

I hated that I wanted him.

And yet… I couldn’t make myself let go.

Not now, not with the way he looked at me, not with the way we burned just standing this close.

In that cold, dripping bathroom, with our hearts still racing from everything we tried to deny, I finally understood what terrified me most about Kevin.

It wasn’t the chaos.

It wasn’t the arguments.

It wasn’t even the way he got under my skin.

It was the chemistry—the kind that didn’t fade, didn’t weaken, didn’t go away no matter how broken we were.

The kind that made it impossible to pretend we were anything other than drawn to each other in ways neither of us could fully control.

The second Kevin’s lips finally crashed against mine—hot, hungry, overwhelming in the way I’d been fighting for weeks—a sound sliced clean through the moment like a knife.

A sharp gasp.

Small.

But unmistakable.

My entire body jerked.

Kevin froze against me.

For a second, neither of us breathed. His mouth was still pressed to mine, his hand still gripping the back of my neck, water beating relentlessly on our skin. But every muscle in him went rigid—tense in a way that made dread pool low in my stomach.

Because I knew that voice.

I knew that sound.

And I knew exactly what it meant.

Slowly—too slowly—Kevin turned his head.

I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want any of this. My heart was slamming so hard I thought it might bruise my ribs.

But I forced my eyes open, and there she was.

Sarah.

Standing right at the doorway of the bathroom, eyes wide, mouth parted, a hand over her chest like she couldn’t decide whether she was shocked, disgusted, or delighted by the drama she’d just witnessed.

My throat closed up. My knees threatened to buckle. The cold water suddenly felt like it was freezing straight into my bones.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, like she’d just uncovered a secret she wasn’t supposed to survive.

I felt myself tremble—violently, uncontrollably. Not just from being exposed, but from the sudden crash back into reality. The guilt. The shame. The blazing humiliation crawling up my skin.

I stepped away—or tried to—but Kevin was still in front of me, still too close, still radiating heat and fury that made the tiny bathroom feel even smaller.

He didn’t look guilty.

He didn’t look ashamed.

He didn’t even look startled anymore.

He looked murderous.

His jaw was clenched so tight it could’ve shattered. His eyes—usually sharp, intense—had gone dark in a way that made the air feel heavier. Like someone had flipped a switch inside him and unleashed something far more dangerous.

He stared at Sarah like she was the last thing holding his restraint in place.

I’d seen Kevin angry before. I’d seen him irritated, frustrated, pushed past the edge.

But this—this was different.

This was Kevin seeing red.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling instinctively into the wet fabric clinging to me, as if bracing myself for the fallout. I didn't know what to say or feel, I just felt numb.

Sarah’s gaze flicked between us, lingering far too long on my soaked clothes, on the mess, on the intimacy she’d walked in on. A smile—small, poisonous—started to form at the corner of her mouth.

“You two are—wow… I mean… I wasn’t expecting—”

“Sarah,” Kevin and I muttered in unison.