Hardwood warping. Buckling. The oak floors I spent weeks restoring, swelling and splitting under filthy water.
Glass shatters in the background.
I flinch.
“She smashed things,” Beth continues. “And— Ethan— she’s upstairs now. In your bedroom.”
My chest tightens painfully.
“She said she stripped naked,” Beth whispers. “Rolled around in your bed. Said she smells like you.”
I shut my eyes.
See it anyway.
“She cut your mattress open,” Beth says. “Feathers everywhere.”
Fire crackles over the line.
“She’s burning your clothes. In the firepit.”
I drag a hand down my face, snow melting into my beard.
“She thinks you’ll come home,” Beth says, breaking now, “and fuck her on the ruins.”
“No,” I say hoarsely. “No. That’s not?—”
Tony’s voice cuts in, sharp with instinct. “Ethan?”
I turn toward him, phone still pressed to my ear. “She’s in my house.”
His expression hardens instantly. Protector mode. No questions.
“Hang up. Call Seth,” he says. “Now.”
I already am.
Seth answers on the first ring.
“She’s there,” I say. “My house. Go. Now.”
“I’m ten minutes out,” he replies. “I’ll call you when I’m inside.”
The wait is unbearable.
Tony doesn’t leave my side. We stand there in the storm, skis forgotten, watching white erase the mountain while my phone feels like a live wire in my hand.
Then it rings.
“I’m inside. Have been for about six minutes,” Seth says. His voice is tight. “Front door was unlocked.”
Of course it was.
“There’s water everywhere,” he continues. “Basement’s a mess. Towels jammed into the sink like she meant to flood it.”
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Upstairs,” Seth says. “In your bedroom. Wearing your flannel.”
