Chapter 4

I didn' t answer him. I just turned and walked to the sink, running cold water over my burned arm. The sting of the hot liquid was a dull, distant sensation.

"She' s just using you, Liam," I said quietly, a ghost of a memory surfacing. It was me, saying those exact words to him five years ago, after Chloe had cheated on him and left him for a richer man.

He had been a wreck. He' d thrown all of his paintings out, screaming that she was the only reason he could create anything beautiful. He had hated her then. Truly hated her.

"She will suck you dry and leave you with nothing," he had warned me about her, his voice full of venom. "Stay away from her, Ava. Promise me."

I had promised. And I had kept that promise. He was the one who broke it.

"I'm feeling tired," I said, turning off the water. "I'm going to lie down."

I walked past him, not giving him a second glance. I went to our bedroom and closed the door, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet house.

I lay on the bed, my body aching. The nausea from the morning had returned, a bitter reminder of the secret I was carrying and the decision I had made.

Sleep wouldn't come. I just lay there, listening to the sounds of the house. I heard Liam pacing in the living room. I heard him talking on the phone, his voice low and urgent.

Then, I heard it. A soft, tinkling melody. It was his phone. It was the special ringtone he had set for her. The one he thought I didn't know about.

His voice changed, becoming soft and gentle, a tone he hadn't used with me in years.

"Chloe? What's wrong?"

A pause. I could imagine her on the other end, her voice a weapon of calculated vulnerability.

"No, no, don't cry. It's okay."

Another pause.

"He said what? No, he's nobody. Just some rich asshole who buys art. He doesn't get you. Not like I do."

His voice hardened. "Did he touch you? Tell me right now, Chloe."

He was listening intently. Then, a low growl of a laugh.

"Of course I miss you. You're my muse. You're the only one who's ever mattered."

My eyes closed. The words hit me, one by one.

"What about Ava?" I heard him say, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's... Ava. She's good. She takes care of things. She keeps the house clean. You know. But it's not... it's not like us. It's not fire. You and I, we're a goddamn wildfire, Chloe."

A wildfire. And I was just the person who kept the house clean.

Ten years of my life, summarized in a single, brutal sentence.