Then a low laugh.“And who the fuck is this?”
Every muscle in my body locks.This is the part I used to dread.The moment he sensed something new, something he hadn’t accounted for, and the world rearranged itself around his jealousy like tectonic plates.
“You don’t get a name,” Darren says, still maddeningly calm.“You don’t get anything from her or from me unless she decides that is how she wants it.”
“Put her back on the phone,” my ex snarls, ignoring him.“Olivia.”
He uses my name the way someone uses a leash.I swallow hard.My voice works on old muscle memory.“I’m here.”
“That’s right,” he croons, rage tucked just under the syrup.“You’re here.And you’re listening.You always were a good listener when you tried.”
The past tries to climb up my throat.
No one else will ever want you.You’re hard work, Livvy.I deserve a medal for putting up with you.If I can’t have you, nobody will.
That last one comes with the scent of gasoline.My vision blurs.
“Olivia,” Darren murmurs, and my name sounds different in his mouth.Not a leash.A promise.“Breathe.”
I do.Air rushes in, shaky but mine.“What do you want?”I ask my ex again, steadier now.
“I want you to stop embarrassing yourself,” he snaps.“Running around crying victim.Telling people stories.Acting like I’m some monster.”
Darren’s jaw flexes.
“You set my house on fire,” I whisper.
A beat.Then he laughs.It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
“That dump should’ve gone up years ago,” he says casually.“I was doing you a favor.Insurance will finally buy you something decent.You’re welcome.”
My stomach flips.
“You could’ve killed her,” Darren says, the calm in his tone thinning.
“Oh, please,” my ex scoffs.“Drama queen survived.Again.She’s like a cockroach, hard to get rid of.”
The word hits like a slap.Old-me folds instantly.New-me ...doesn’t.Because I’m not alone anymore.Darren squeezes my thigh once, giving permission, not direction.Because it is my choice how to handle this situation.Just like it always should have been.
I straighten.“I’m not yours,” I say quietly.
Everything on the line goes very still.“What did you say?”he asks, voice gone cold and sharp.This is what he sounded like all those times before he became the monster that almost broke me.
“I said,” I repeat, each word like a rung I climb out of a pit I’ve lived in for years, “I’m.Not.Yours.”
There’s a sound like teeth grinding.“You’re mine until I say you’re not,” he hisses.“You don’t get to rewrite history because you found some kid with a hero complex to fuck you...”
The phone is gone from my hand so fast I barely register the movement.
Darren holds it now.He doesn’t raise his voice.But then again, he doesn’t need to.
“Listen very carefully,” he says, and there’s something in his tone I’ve never heard before—quiet violence, contained like a storm in a jar.“You will never threaten her again.You will never call her again.You will never show up where she lives, where she works, where she breathes.”
My ex snorts.“I’ve heard about you fire boy.You’re what?Twenty?You think you’re a man because you carry a hose?”
Darren’s mouth curves.It isn’t a smile.
“You’re confusing me with you,” he says softly.“A man doesn’t terrorize a woman and call it love.A man doesn’t light fires because he can’t control his temper.A man doesn’t choke on his own insecurity and spit it at someone kinder than he’ll ever be.”
