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My fingers crumple the edges of the plane ticket that was left on my breakfast tray this morning. According to this, I’ll be on a plane back to Chicago in less than two hours. There’s a knock on the door and I rise, smoothing down the skirt of my dress as I stand. Despite how much I want that to be Rafe, I know it isn’t. I haven’t seen him since he left me yesterday.
And I’ll probably never see him again.
That thought hurts.
Opening the door, I’m greeted by one of the house attendants. “Your car is scheduled to leave in ten minutes, Miss Salvatore. Are you ready to walk down there now?”
I glance at my bag that’s sitting on the floor then back to the attendant. “I am.” He nods and I follow him out with nothing but my flip phone. I don’t want the memories my things would bring. I’ll leave those all for Rafe. “Do you know where Rafe is?”
The attendant quickly shakes his head, almost too quickly. “Mr. Cammargo is not on the estate.”
I don’t believe him, but I doubt he’d tell me even if I begged. And that is something I won’t do. The sun is hot when I step out from under the overhang porch, my sneakers crunching on the gravel of the driveway as I walk to the car door that’s already been opened for me.
I pause with my hand on the door, my eyes going back to the house. Who knew that the same person who could light up my fucking world be the one to bring me the most pain. I should have known from the beginning that he was bad news. I should have heeded the warning signs.
But everyone can be good.
I was wrong. Not everyone.
Aside from the physical changes of eating regularly and spending more time in the sun, I’m mostly the same girl I was when I came here. The only difference now is that Rafe got his wish. He accomplished what life hadn’t been able to up until now. He’d taken my hope chest and not only broke it in half, but threw it into the sea, let it float away like driftwood while I screamed from the sand for him to stop.
Rafe Cammargo broke my heart.
She can’t see you. I remind myself for the third time as I watch her stare up at the house. I swear she can though. It feels as if she can see right through this window and straight into my soul.
She’s always been able to see through me.
From that first look at the gas station, she had me hooked. It wasn’t the amber of her eyes or the soft pink of her lips that got me; it was the way she looked at me. The way she stared right past my armor and straight to my core.
Ember.
I’ve never seen a more fitting name for someone. And just as her namesake, she burned. Hot and bright, she burned. I should have known better than to bring her here. How many times are you told as a child not to play with fire? Not to get too close? Too many for me not to have listened.
Looking at her face now, I see how badly I fucked up. My sweet girl has just about burned out. She scared me as much as she intrigued me. Fuck, she still scares me as much as she intrigues me. I wanted to tear her open, dissect the girl who dissected me with a single gaze. I wanted to wreck her, wreck the thing that scared me most. And I almost succeeded. I’m not strong like her. I let my fears control my actions.
“I love you.”
I hear her sweet voice in my head on a loop. Like a song I can’t get out of my head it plays over, and over, and over.
Love doesn’t exist in my world. Emotions, affection, attention, they're all used to manipulate. I learned that from a young age. It took a girl who burned like fire to burn away the blindfold and show me what could be underneath.
And it scared the shit out of me.
Her mahogany head disappears inside of the car and I watch it drive until it’s out of sight. My chest hurts more than it should watching her go. She’s too good for me. She’s too pure, too kind, too—sweet. She needs more than I could ever give her. Ember is fire and coal. She is bright and bold. And I’m more like the ocean that tried to yank her down by her ankles. Too long with me and she would have drowned.
Turning from the window, I leave my hiding spot and walk back to my room. I didn’t come back after what I did yesterday. How could I? My sweet girl didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of it. Just like I don’t deserve her.
Pushing the door open, I immediately spot her bag on the floor. It’s lying on its side, clothes spilling out of it like she started packing and then changed her mind. I move forward without thinking, bend down to grab the edge of a soft orange shirt. I know I shouldn’t, but I bring it up to my face and inhale as much of it as I can. It smells like every-fucking-thing else about her, sweet. Her skin is like maple sugar, warm and sugary. She tastes like fucking dessert, the forbidden treat I wanted to gobble up. If I close my eyes, it’s almost like she’s still here. Almost like I didn’t just send her away.
My phone rings and I pull it from my pocket, keeping my eyes closed when I answer. “Rafe.”
“You’re late. Get here and try not to fuck this merger up for me when you do.” I hang up on my father before he can, tucking my phone back into my pocket. He can fuck off.
My fingers tighten on the soft cotton tee in my hand. That ache in my chest pounds relentlessly. She’s been gone all of ten minutes and my world is already back to being a fucking nightmare.
Fuck.
