I stared at Ethan’s name on my screen.
Then I pressed call.
He answered on the third ring.
Wind howled through the line. He was laughing—actually laughing—voice bright and loose.
“Beth! What’s up? I’m on a lift right now, it’s insane out here?—”
“She’s in your house.”
The laughter died instantly.
“What?”
“Sage,” I said, forcing the words out before I could stop myself. “She broke in. She’s flooding it. Burning your clothes. Slashed your mattress. She’s in your accounts. She thinks you’re addicted to her. That you love her crazy. She said this turns you on.”
There was a long, terrible silence.
Then a sound I’d never heard from him before—a broken, guttural exhale. Like something inside him had finally snapped.
“She thinks this turns me on?” he said hoarsely. “Jesus Christ. No. No, that’s?—”
He was breathing hard now. I could hear it, ragged and uneven.
“That’s why I ended it,” he said quietly. “For real this time.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing,” he said, and there was steel in his voice now. “I’m calling Seth. He’s home. He’ll handle it.”
Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly gave out.
“No cops?” I asked weakly.
“Not unless we have to,” he said. “Thank you for telling me. I owe you.”
“One thing,” I said quickly, fear flooding back in. “You can’t tell her it was me. She knows where I work. Where my mom lives. She’ll ruin me.”
“I’ll take it to my grave,” he promised.
The call ended.
I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, pressing my forehead to my knees as my body finally gave in to the shock.
Mom knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
“You did what you could,” she murmured.
I shook my head, tears soaking into her sweater. “I just betrayed my best friend.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Because we both knew what I was afraid to say out loud.
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
