I turn to stare at him. What the hell did he just say?
Neve lifts her head just enough to squint over her blanket. “How hard did Damian hit you?”
Nathan’s jaw flexes.
“Not hard enough,” I mutter, fixing the oxygen tubes at my nose.
Nathan folds his arms across his chest. “Last night on the Ferris wheel, we both decided?—”
“You want to try that again with a little less fiction this time?” I cut in, dragging the oxygen tube away from my face just enough to make sure every word lands. “I didn’t say one word to you on that ride. You were talking all by yourself, like always, and I didn’t agree to anything. You didn’t win me back. You didn’t fix a damn thing. You just sat there trying to rewrite history, hoping I’d nod along.”
His mouth opens, but I don’t give him the chance.
“Go back to the girl you left me for, Nathan. This,” I gesture between us with the IV line tugging slightly, “is not happening again. Not now. Not ever.”
“Marlowe, please?—”
I tilt my head, stare him down.
“Why don’t you do what you’re good at and disappear again?” I croak.
Nathan shakes his head, scoffing under his breath like I’m the one who’s lost it. “You really think that animal from last night is a better choice than me? Where is he now, Marlowe? Huh?”
I feel the words hit somewhere deep and hollow.
Where is he?
But I don't let that question leave my mouth.
I just look at Nathan—tired, bruised, still pretending like he's something I should want—and say, “Goodbye, Nathan.”
Finally, I turn to the officer.
“Was there anyone else in the apartment?” My voice is quieter now, steadier. “Did anyone else get hurt?”
The officer flips a page in his notebook, glances up at me. “No. Fire department swept the whole building. You and your friend were the only ones inside.”
I nod slowly, but my chest tightens.
“I don’t know if my boyfriend…” I flick my eyes toward Nathan—just long enough to make it clear, “myrealboyfriend… came home last night.”
The officer’s expression softens a little, but he shakes his head. “No one else was found.”
The words hit hard. I don’t know if it’s relief or fear I feel first. Maybe both. Maybe neither.
But the only thing I do know is this: Damian isn’t here.
Nathan doesn’t say another word. He stares at me like he wants to argue, maybe even beg, but something in my face must finally register. Because after a long beat, he exhales sharply, pushes off the chair, and walks out. The door clicks shut behind him, and it’s quieter without his ego in the room.
Good.
I sink back against the pillow, the oxygen tubing tight across my cheeks. Neve shifts slightly in her bed, her arm curled under her head, her gaze moving from the door to the cop.
“Can we get to the part where someone tells uswhat the hellhappened?” she mutters, her voice rough and groggy.
The officer nods, flipping another page on his notepad. “It was arson.”
That word lands hard in my chest.
