He stared at me as if I had grown three wings, his eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown. Then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So what now?”

I laughed under my breath. A dry, humorless sound. “Now? I wait for the house to burn.”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile. Just watched me, like he could see all the cracks in my chest, the parts I’d spent years hiding behind charm and sarcasm and expensive distractions.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked finally.

I ...