Chapter 2

When I got back to the Miller house, the lights were on. Ethan was in the living room, a grim expression on his face.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

I ignored him and walked past, heading for the stairs.

He grabbed my arm. "I'm talking to you, Chloe."

I looked down at his hand on my arm, then up at his face. "Let go of me."

"Not until you tell me where you were at this hour."

I let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Worried I was out doing something... disgusting?"

His face tightened, a flicker of something-shock, maybe guilt-in his eyes. He let go.

I went up to my room and locked the door. I didn't have much. My life fit into two suitcases. But there was one thing left to deal with. Under my bed was a wooden box. Inside were the sketchbooks. Years of secret, hopeless love, captured in charcoal and pencil.

I took the box to the backyard, to the old fire pit we used for summer barbecues. I doused the books in lighter fluid and struck a match.

The flames roared to life, consuming the images of Ethan's face. I watched them curl and blacken, his smile turning to ash. It was a painful, liberating sight. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from an unknown number.

Chloe, it's Liam. My mom told me. Are you serious?

I typed back a single word. Yes.

His reply was immediate. I'm on the first flight back. Don't go anywhere. I'm coming home.

Another message followed. I'll take care of you, Chloe. I promise.

Tears pricked my eyes, but they weren't tears of sadness. For the first time, someone was choosing me. Someone was coming for me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I spun around. Ethan stood at the edge of the patio, his silhouette dark against the kitchen light. His eyes were fixed on the fire, on the burning remains of my past.

He strode over, his face a mask of fury. "You're burning them? After all this time, you're just burning them?"

He reached into the flames, trying to salvage a piece, but it was too late. He pulled his hand back with a hiss of pain, staring at the ashes on his fingertips.

He looked at me, his eyes wild with a confusion I didn't understand. "Why?"

"Because they're disgusting," I said, quoting him. "You said so yourself."

I turned and walked back into the house, leaving him alone with the dying embers of a love he had thrown away.

The next morning, I went downstairs to tell Mr. and Mrs. Miller. They were in the dining room, a rare moment of them together.

"I'm getting married," I announced, my voice not wavering.

Mrs. Miller looked up, surprised but pleased. "Oh, Chloe! That's wonderful news! To whom?"

"Liam Hayes," I replied.

A look of relief washed over her face. "Liam! He's a wonderful boy. A good family."

Mr. Miller, a man of few words, simply nodded. "Good. It's time."

"When is the wedding?" Mrs. Miller asked, already beaming.

"December 8th," I said.

The air in the room went still. Mrs. Miller's smile faltered. "But... Chloe, that's Ethan and Madison's wedding day."