Chapter 4: Two Brothers, One Confession

But reason told me I had to restrain myself.

I gave myself pep talks in the mirror, reminding myself that reality wasn’t a romance novel. I had to be practical, for everyone’s sake.

First, Derek clearly has no romantic feelings for me. I haven’t dared ask why he let Aunt Lisa misunderstand, or why he didn’t clarify, but I guess he just wanted a bit of harmless revenge for my recent shamelessness.

I convinced myself he was just playing along, not sending any real signals. It was easier to believe that than to risk disappointment.

Second, although Derek and Caleb seem like pure brothers, they’ve never had any other women around except me—doesn’t that say something?

The absence of other girls made me suspicious, but I brushed it off as coincidence. They’re basically a two-man wolf pack—work, life, routine—with me popping in like a chaos-agent.

So this piece of fresh meat is out of my reach.

I sighed, resigning myself to a lifetime of platonic dinners and unspoken feelings.

Thinking this made me even more depressed.

I flopped on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan, wondering if I’d ever feel normal again.

As someone with zero dating experience, finally having a crush only to be stuck in a complicated love triangle—I’m totally outmatched.

Rom-coms never prepared me for this. I felt like the side character in someone else’s story.

The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt—worse than being sick.

I buried my head in my pillow, wishing I could just cry it all out. The ache in my chest refused to fade.

Derek had no idea about my secret feelings. When I didn’t go over for meals for a few days, he even came knocking, inviting me to eat.

He showed up at my door with a Tupperware full of pasta, acting casual but clearly worried. My bestie texted, “Girl, no.” then “Girl, yes.”—and I almost said yes to him, but guilt held me back.

But the nicer he was, the more reluctant I was, and the guiltier I felt toward Caleb.

Every gesture of kindness felt like a test—could I stay friends without falling apart? Could I love Derek without hurting Caleb?

I really didn’t know what to do, my mind was a mess, with two little voices arguing.

I played both sides in my own head, one voice urging me to run, the other begging me to stay. The indecision was exhausting.

One said: “Natalie, this is wrong. You should cut off your feelings before anyone finds out, so everyone can stay as they are.”

I pictured myself packing my bags, leaving before things got messy. Maybe I’d move to another city, start fresh.

The other urged: “Love is a matter of ability, no reason needed. Natalie, when did you get so timid!”

The rebel in me shouted back, reminding me that life is short, and regrets last forever.

Listening to them argue, I realized I’m not as carefree as I thought—I can’t cut things off quickly, can’t bear to hurt myself, but also don’t want to hurt all three of us.

I lay there, heart heavy, realizing that every decision came with a price. Maybe I’d never get it right.

In the end, I decided on a compromise.

I settled on a half-measure—enjoy what I had, but prepare for goodbye. It was bittersweet, but better than nothing.

Before Caleb came back, I’d keep mooching meals from Derek, enjoy his care one last time, just as a farewell to my feelings.

I made a mental checklist—one last dinner, one last laugh, one last moment to remember. Then I’d walk away before anyone got hurt.

Once Caleb returned, I’d move out, avoid Derek as much as possible, and never let slip my feelings.

I rehearsed my escape plan, determined not to leave any trace of my heartbreak behind.

I’d thought it through, but why did it still hurt so much?

No matter how much I rationalized, the ache lingered, stubborn and unyielding.

When Caleb returned from his trip, he immediately noticed something was off with me.

He walked through the door, took one look at my face, and frowned. Caleb had always been annoyingly perceptive, especially when it came to me.

He said I’m usually so carefree that even failing the SAT didn’t faze me, but now I looked lost, out of sorts, sighing all day.

He called me out over breakfast, poking my arm until I confessed to feeling "off." “You didn’t even flinch when you bombed the SAT,” he teased, and I tried to dodge, but he wasn’t letting me off the hook.

“So, what’s wrong with you?” Caleb asked.

His tone was gentle, but there was an edge of concern that made me want to cry.

I gave him a resentful look, opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say.

I searched for words, but nothing came. The lump in my throat grew bigger, until I thought I’d choke.

He asked again, and I couldn’t help but tear up.

One tear slipped out, then another. Caleb’s eyes widened, as if he’d never seen me cry before.

Growing up, I’ve cried in front of Caleb only a handful of times. He, on the other hand, used to cry all the time when I beat him up as a kid.

The roles had reversed. He reached for a tissue, awkwardly patting my shoulder.

He was startled, quickly comforting me: “Okay, okay, I won’t ask anymore.”

He pulled me into a side hug, whispering reassurances. I sniffled, grateful for the comfort.

For several days, Caleb hovered around me, constantly asking if I was hungry or thirsty, worried but afraid to ask too much.

He made pancakes for breakfast, stocked the fridge with my favorite snacks, and let me pick the Netflix shows every night. It was his way of saying "I’m here," even if words failed him.

That’s my brother—usually always at odds with me, like I owe him from a past life. But if I’m ever upset, he stands in front of me without hesitation, protecting me like a little sister.

He’d fight anyone who made me cry, but never admit it out loud. The bond was deeper than any argument.

But this time, not only could I not tell him my troubles, I had to hide them.

I forced myself to smile, knowing he’d worry more if he knew the truth. Keeping secrets from family sucked, but sometimes it was necessary.

“It’s nothing,” I forced a smile so he wouldn’t worry, then made up an excuse, “I just really, really want to eat ribs these days, but haven’t had any.”

I hoped the food diversion would work, even if it was transparent. At least he’d have something to do, and I wouldn’t have to lie anymore.

“Ribs?” Caleb immediately arranged it, “Do you want grilled or braised... No, I’ll make both. I’ll go buy some now, and get Derek to cook them.”

He sprang into action, rattling off recipes, texting Derek for backup. I almost laughed at how seriously he took my cravings.

Get Derek to cook...

I pictured Derek in an apron, sleeves rolled up, grilling ribs like a Food Network star. It almost made the sadness worth it.

I thought, fine, after this meal, I’ll really pack up and leave.

One last feast before goodbye. It felt dramatic, but fitting.

Caleb soon returned with a huge bag of ribs—I suspected he’d bought out the whole supermarket.

He burst through the door, arms full of groceries. I helped him unload, marveling at the sheer quantity—was he planning to feed an army?

“I’ll go help Derek cook, you watch TV, I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Then he changed his mind, “Never mind, come with me.”

He tugged me toward the kitchen, unwilling to let me wallow alone. I followed, grateful for the distraction.

I knew he didn’t want me to be alone, so I nodded and went with him.

We walked down the hall together, the silence between us warm and familiar.

At Derek’s place, the two guys busied themselves in the kitchen, while I relaxed in the spacious living room watching TV.

The apartment smelled of barbecue and spices. I curled up on the couch, flicking through channels, trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest.

But the TV was showing a sweet romance, which I couldn’t bear, so I got up to find something to do.

I switched to HGTV, but the sight of happy couples renovating homes made things worse. I grabbed a book instead, hoping to get lost in fiction.

Derek likes reading, has a study and a bookshelf in the living room.

His shelves were lined with hardcovers and paperbacks—mysteries, biographies, even some poetry. It felt cozy, like a sanctuary from my own confusion.

The bookshelf was right next to the kitchen. As I browsed for a book, I overheard Caleb talking to Derek in the kitchen.

Their voices carried, muffled by the hum of the fridge and the clatter of pans.

“I think my sister’s in love,” Caleb said.

I froze, heart pounding. Had he figured it out?

Derek asked, “With... who?”

Derek’s voice was tense, a hint of surprise and maybe something more. I held my breath, straining to listen.

Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt a trace of hesitation in Derek’s voice, as if surprised and a bit angry.

His words sounded clipped, like he was trying to control his emotions.

“That’s just it—I don’t know who!” Caleb’s tone rose, then quickly lowered, “If I find out who’s making her so upset, I’ll beat that jerk to death! I’ve never seen her like this, so sad and lost.”

Caleb talks big, but his bluster is pure brotherly love. I smiled despite myself, grateful for his loyalty.

“Didn’t you ask her? Who is it? What’s his name? How many times have they met?”

Derek fired off questions, clearly worried about me too.

I pictured Derek, spatula in hand, interrogating Caleb like a detective. It was oddly endearing.

“Of course I asked, but she won’t say a word. If I push, she looks like she’s about to cry—how could I dare? You know she’s not a crybaby, so she must be really upset. She’s never dated, totally naive, thinks she’s a love expert giving advice to others. I’m really afraid some jerk is tricking her. By the way, have you noticed anything lately?”

Caleb sounded exasperated, worried he’d missed something. I felt a pang of guilt for keeping them both in the dark.

“No.”

Derek’s answer was short, almost defensive. I wondered if he was hiding something.

“That’s impossible, it must’ve happened recently.”

Caleb wouldn’t let it go. The intensity in his voice made me want to run in and hug him, but I stayed put, listening.

“Should I go talk to her?”

I didn’t listen to the rest—I was afraid I’d cry. How could I deserve two brothers worrying about me so much?

I grabbed a random book and retreated to the couch, hugging it to my chest. Tears threatened to spill, but I held them back.

Natalie.

I whispered my name, trying to gather the strength to move forward.

I told myself, don’t be too greedy—things are already as good as they can be.

Life didn’t owe me a fairy tale, but I had love and friendship, and that was enough.

Really, as good as they can be.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, letting gratitude fill the cracks in my heart.

Derek came knocking when I was curled up on the couch, counting how many more days I could stay here.

He stood in the doorway, a shadow against the soft glow of the living room lamp. I looked up, startled, but didn’t move.

I’d already told Caleb I planned to move out, and started looking for rental listings online.

My laptop was littered with bookmarks—Zillow, Trulia, studio apartments, cheap listings, even a few sublets. A muted chat thread and the little Do Not Disturb moon icon glowed in the corner. Nothing felt right, but I kept searching.

Of course he disagreed, saying it wasn’t safe for a girl to live alone.

He went full big brother mode, rattling off crime statistics and horror stories from the news. I rolled my eyes, but secretly appreciated his concern.

But I’d made up my mind. He couldn’t change it, so he said he’d have to find the place for me, and only if he approved could I move.

It was his way of protecting me—controlling, but loving. I agreed, figuring it was easier than fighting.

He meant well, so I agreed.

Sometimes, letting people take care of you was the only way to show you cared back.

“Why are you moving out?” Derek got straight to the point as soon as he entered.

He didn’t waste words, his voice clipped and serious. I braced myself for a lecture.

I could guess Caleb had told him.

I saw the worry in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists at his sides. I almost wanted to comfort him, but held back.

Even though I knew he was only concerned as a friend, I still couldn’t bear to look at his worried face, afraid I’d regret my decision.

I focused on the book in my lap, avoiding his gaze. The tension between us felt heavier than ever.

I avoided his gaze and said lightly, “I was never going to stay at Caleb’s forever.”

I tried to sound breezy, but my voice came out flat. The words tasted bitter in my mouth.

“Natalie,” Derek’s voice turned cold, “Who doesn’t know how lazy and greedy you are? Hm? If you weren’t forced, you’d never move out alone.”

He said it with a teasing edge and a smile in his eyes so it didn’t land mean—more like the same roast my family uses on me.

I: “...”

I bit my lip, unable to argue. He knew me too well—sometimes, I wished he’d be a little less perceptive.

I almost forgot—Derek is usually cold but polite, but if you really provoke him, his sharp tongue can kill.

I remembered the last time he snapped at Caleb, leaving my brother speechless for a whole day. Derek’s words were weapons, but always aimed at the heart of the matter.

I was speechless, but Derek didn’t press further.

He let the silence hang, letting me stew in my own thoughts.

The room suddenly fell silent, a bit awkward.

I fiddled with the book spine, wishing someone would break the tension.

After a while, Derek spoke again, his voice tired and helpless.

He sounded weary, as if carrying the weight of all my problems on his shoulders.

“Natalie, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you just say it? You used to always say whatever was on your mind...”

His words stung, reminding me of all the times I’d overshared, never afraid to speak my truth. Now, the silence between us felt like a betrayal.

He made it sound like I was being unreasonable, and I felt a lump in my throat, interrupting him with a sob: “I’m not being difficult, just leave me alone.”

My voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. I buried my face in my hands, feeling childish and exposed.

“Are you crying?”

Derek seemed startled, his voice softening as he approached, reaching out as if to cup my face and check.

I felt the warmth of his hand hovering near my cheek, but I pulled away, unwilling to let him see me so vulnerable.

“I’m not crying!” I wiped my face messily, instinctively leaning back to avoid him.

I ducked away, sniffling. If he touched me now, I’d probably fall apart completely.

No way—just getting my waist hugged almost killed me, if he really cupped my face and wiped my tears, I’d totally surrender.

I laughed weakly, trying to hide my panic. Physical contact was my kryptonite, at least with him.

But maybe my avoidance was too obvious, making Derek look hurt, so much that the always proud man slumped his shoulders, self-mocking: “You won’t even let me touch you?”

He sounded defeated, his confidence crumbling. I wanted to reach out, but fear held me back.

If I didn’t know for sure I was the one secretly in love, I’d almost think Derek had been pining for me all these years.

For a second, I wondered if I’d missed all the signs. Was I really that clueless?

But that’s impossible—if Derek loved me, I must’ve saved the galaxy in my past life.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. This was real life, not a fantasy.

“Caleb said you’re dating someone?” Derek changed the topic.

He sounded casual, but I caught the tension in his voice. My heart fluttered.

“No.” I shook my head.

I forced myself to sound certain, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details.

Really, I’m only secretly crushing, and even that hasn’t worked out.

I sighed, wishing things were simpler. Love was hard enough without secrets.

Then I saw Derek take a deep breath, as if struggling to control his emotions. After a while, he said slowly, “You’d better not be.”

Goosebumps skittered across my arms, my stomach dropped—possessive but gentle, the line I’d only ever read in romance tropes suddenly alive in my living room.

That sentence instantly made me lose my composure.

I felt my cheeks flush, my heart racing. Was he jealous? Or just protective?

If his earlier self-mocking made me suspicious, this sentence was practically evidence.

I replayed the moment in my head, hoping it meant what I thought it meant.

Honestly, in all the CEO romance novels I’ve read, eight out of ten have this line—meant to show the CEO’s cute possessiveness, hidden in a threatening tone.

Call it the grumpy-CEO trope, but it works. And now it was Derek.

So... does Derek mean what I think?

I bit my lip, weighing my options. Should I ask, or let it go?

I stared at Derek.

He met my gaze, eyes dark and unreadable. The silence between us felt electric.

No mistake—his angry yet aggrieved expression and tone really had something to it.

I felt a rush of hope, mingled with fear. Could this be real?

But before I could enjoy the fantasy, Derek dumped a bucket of cold water on me.

He leaned back, the old defenses returning. I braced myself for disappointment.

“Natalie, all these years I’ve wondered what’s so good about you: carefree, lazy, greedy, bad temper...”

He rattled off my flaws like a grocery list—and then undercut himself with specific softness: “You leave cups everywhere, you steal fries off my plate, and you hog the blanket,” his tone exasperated and weirdly fond.

Me: ...

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He wasn’t wrong, after all.

This shift was too fast—why the personal attack?

I laughed nervously, hoping he’d get to the point soon.

“You...”

His eyes softened, but the frustration lingered. I wondered what he was really trying to say.

I blushed, wanting to refute him, but realized everything he said was true.

I slumped, defeated. Maybe I was a mess, but I was his mess, right?

“Just say everything now,” I told him, “You get one chance, say whatever you want, I won’t get mad, offer expires soon!”

I threw my hands up, daring him to unload. Better to know the worst, than wonder forever.

I decided to let him say it all—at least I’d know how worthless I am in his eyes, and it’d be easier to give up.

I steeled myself for heartbreak, determined to walk away with my dignity intact.

But Derek didn’t keep attacking. Instead, he suddenly smiled bitterly, a smile so sad it hurt.

His lips curled into a half-smile, eyes shining with a sadness I’d never seen before. My heart broke for him, even as I braced for more insults.

He said, “But Natalie, you know what? Even though I know all your bad habits, if it were anyone else, I’d have left long ago. But why can’t I let go of you? Really, I could never indulge and love anyone else like this in my life.”

His voice trembled, the confession raw and vulnerable. “No one gets the soft version of me but you,” he added, like it cost him.