Chapter 3 What I Left in the Fire
Steam filled the bathroom, clouding the mirror and softening the winter-dry skin I’d been battling for weeks. The shower poured from above in a steady rush. I stood still, letting the water slide from my hair down to my collarbones, running over every inch of me like reality slipping away drop by drop.
My thoughts didn’t go with it.
Behind my closed eyes, the same face kept surfacing without an invitation.
Darius.
Eyes sharp enough to slice through anyone’s good intentions. A baritone voice that once calmed the fire in me. And the way he vanished, or more truthfully, the way I left ... still jabbed at me like a blunt blade left inside a wound.
Five years.
It should have been long enough to forget, if I were normal. But I’m not. I’m not the kind of woman who runs from her first love and pretends there was never a scar. I’m not the kind who swaps the past for the future and sleeps easy. I’m just lost inside a comfort I never chose.
The glass door slid open.
A warm body stepped under the spray. Arms circled my waist, a hard chest pressed to my back, his breath heavy but familiar against my neck.
I didn’t have to turn.
Zade Solenzara never touched me with hesitation. His hands knew where to go, when to hold, when to press. He wasn’t a man who talked much in the shower, or anywhere really, except for one thing.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.
I drew a slow breath and didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know what answer belonged on my lips. Because honesty had always been a stranger in my life.
He turned me gently, fingers tipping my chin up until my eyes met his. That blue..deep, haunting, magnificent, held too many words he’d never say.
And still, I kissed him.
Soft, hot, and suffocating, like trying to forget the world in one movement. Our mouths moved in a rhythm that felt like an old prayer recited without knowing the meaning.
I knew what it was to be loved in a way that demanded. Darius had done it, with anger that strangled and protection that bound. But Zade held me as if he knew I might shatter at any second and he was ready to catch every piece.
He took it all.
Zoey. The wreckage of my past. The wounds that never closed.
Even when we married—a ridiculous, desperate wedding because my sister made choices like a drunk teenager—Zade never asked anything from me. He just stayed.
His large hand cupped my face. “Bee.” The nickname made me open my eyes.
“I’m here,” I said at last.
He kissed me again, deeper, longer.
And in the steam and skin and searching hands, I realized one thing.
I wasn’t standing in the hell I’d chosen anymore. But this heaven wasn’t fully mine either.
Even when Zoey called him Daddy and he kissed her crown as if she were his own blood, I knew there was something unfinished.
Something left behind in the hallway of time.
///
We were still catching our breath, tangled in sheets that looked like evidence from a crime scene. Zade lay beside me, one arm tucked behind his head, his bare chest rising and falling slowly. His skin radiated heat. A bead of sweat clung to his temple, catching the soft light filtering through the thick winter curtains.
I debated whether to get up for the second time today or just fake my death.
“DAAAADDDDYYYYY!”
The scream could’ve shattered glass. My heart leapt. Zade was on his feet in an instant, pulling on his boxers. I grabbed the sheets, yanked them up over my body, and launched myself off the bed like I’d been trained by a SWAT team.
“Zoey,” I breathed, snatching the first sweater I could find on the floor.
Our footsteps pounded down the stairs. Zade was already ahead of me before I realized I’d thrown on his sweater. Backwards.
Zoey stood in the doorway, shaking and red-faced, tears streaming down her cheeks. Behind her, Aram—Zade’s right hand—stood rigid, jaw clenched, eyes blinking fast. He was covered in snow, like he’d just shielded a four-year-old from a goddamn war zone, not a preschool drop-off.
“Baby girl,” Zade crouched low, scooping her into his arms like she didn’t weigh as much as a bag of bricks. “What happened?”
She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing harder. “There was a man. He—he had a scary face, Daddy! Like monster scary! And he talked to me. He said my name!”
Zade’s jaw locked tight, like he’d just turned into a statue made of rage. “Who?” His eyes snapped to Aram, sharp enough to carve open bone. “Who the fuck was it?”
Aram gave a tight nod. “May I speak to you privately, sir?”
Zade didn’t answer right away. He stared at Aram for two seconds too long, then slowly kissed the top of Zoey’s head and passed her to me.
She landed in my arms like a storm cloud, still hiccuping, heavy with emotion. Her cheek pressed to my neck like a clingy baby koala.
“Mommy, I need waffle,” she whispered, choked up. “Please make the bear one. Not the cat. The bear makes me feel safer.”
I tried not to laugh or cry. “Of course. Bear waffle coming right up.”
While Zoey stuck to me like a fridge magnet, Zade gave Aram a silent nod. The two of them disappeared down the back hallway and into his office, the one with a fingerprint lock and bulletproof door. Not exactly standard suburban dad stuff, but then again, I married Zade Solenzara.
Zoey wiped her eyes on my shoulder and sniffed hard. “Daddy’s mad.”
“Daddy’s gonna make sure no monster ever talks to you again,” I murmured, kissing her damp cheek.
She nodded, calming a little, then took a breath. “If he finds the scary man, can Daddy turn him into waffles?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie, that sounds like something we probably shouldn’t say out loud.”
She thought for a beat. “Okay. Then into poop.”
“Better.”
I carried her into the kitchen and set her down on the stool while I pulled the waffle batter from the fridge. Her eyes were still puffy, bangs a mess, but her expression had started to shift back into the Zoey I knew. Loud, bossy, and charmingly delusional.
But even as I gave her a small smile, watching her rearrange strawberry slices into heart shapes, my chest stayed tight.
What the hell happened at school?




















