Holding the note, I moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge. Caleb, finished with his shower, comes out of the shower looking relaxed as can be. The moment he sees me perched on the bed, he tenses again.
“What happened? What’s going on?” he asks, his voice all business.
I hold up the small note. Because of the listening devices, I don’t want to say aloud where the note came from. Instead, I point toward the door.
Following where I point, he seems to understand.
Caleb walks over to me. There’s a towel around his hips, hanging low. His hipbones are distracting, but the fear that’s inside of me pushes away any resurgence of lust.
He takes the note from my hands and reads it. As he does, his expression darkens.
I wish we could talk aloud. Instead, in rage, Caleb shreds the note in
