Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Landon

I told my father no when he asked me to come back home after five years that i left.

He asked once. Calm. Polite. Like he was asking me to come home for dinner, not to sit through Noah’s engagement like a trained dog.

I said no.

He asked again two days later. His voice heavier this time. Said it mattered. Said family showed up.

I said I was busy. Which was true. I always was. Somewhere else. Anywhere but there.

Then he sent the picture.

Noah. Smiling. Perfect. Golden. His arm around her waist like he owned the ground she stood on.

Sienna.

Her hair pulled back. Her face calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came from practice. The kind people learned when they were taught not to break.

Something inside me cracked when I saw her.

Not loud. Not clean.

Just a slow, ugly split.

I booked the flight that night.

I told myself it meant nothing. Told myself I was curious. Told myself I was bored. Lies stacked on lies, thin as paper.

The truth sat deeper.

I wanted to see her.

I wanted to know if that night had been real, or if I had imagined the way she trembled under my hands. The way she clung to me like she was afraid I would disappear if she let go.

I should have stayed away.

The house looked the same when I arrived. Too big. Too clean. Too quiet. Full of memories I never asked for. My father hugged me like he was afraid I might vanish again.

“You didn’t have to come,” he said.

I did not answer.

The night of the engagement, I put on a suit I hated and practiced my empty smile in the mirror. The one that said I was fine. The one people believed.

I walked into the ballroom and felt it hit me.

Her.

I saw her before she saw me.

She stood beside Noah, dressed in light and softness, like she belonged to a world I had never been allowed to touch. She laughed at something he said, but it did not reach her eyes.

I knew those eyes.

I had seen them wide and wet, full of need, staring up at me while her nails dug into my back.

That memory slammed into me hard.

The beach. The fire. The way the ocean roared like it was warning us. The way she had looked at me like I was the answer to a question she had been afraid to ask.

She had been nervous at first. Too careful. Too quiet.

Then I kissed her.

Everything changed after that.

She had melted. Shaken. Gasps turning into sounds she tried to swallow. Her body learning what it wanted faster than her mind could keep up.

She had been new. I knew it the moment I touched her. The hesitation. The sharp breath. The way her eyes filled with tears she did not expect.

I had stopped. Asked her if she was sure.

She nodded. Fast. Desperate.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

She said my name like it was something holy. Like she was afraid to lose it.

She came apart under me. Cried out when I moved deeper. Held on like she was falling.

She was mine that night.

Not in a claiming way. Not in a promise way.

In a real way.

Now she stood beside Noah, wearing his future on her finger.

When she turned and saw me, I felt it hit her.

The stillness. The shock. The way her breath caught like she had been punched.

Good.

I hated myself for thinking it, but I did.

When she took my hand, it burned. Too familiar. Too wrong. Her skin remembered me even if her mouth pretended not to.

I saw it in her eyes. The pull. The ache. The thing she tried to hide.

She wanted me.

Still.

That should have satisfied me.

It did not.

Watching Noah touch her broke something ugly loose inside my chest. His hand on her waist felt like an insult. Like theft.

I do not do women. Not like this.

I take what I want. I leave before it gets heavy. I do not stay long enough to care.

Sienna was never meant to be more than one night.

But she was.

Seeing her choose him felt like a lie she was forcing down her own throat. I recognized it because I had lived it my whole life.

When Noah dropped to one knee, I almost laughed.

Of course he did it in public. Of course he needed witnesses. He always needed to be seen as perfect.

The ring was obscene. Heavy with meaning. Heavy with control.

I watched her face as the room waited.

I saw the fight in her. The quiet panic. The way her mouth parted like she wanted to say something else.

For one second, I thought she might choose herself.

She did not.

“Yes.”

The word landed like a bullet.

Applause exploded around us. I did not hear it. All I could see was the ring sliding onto her finger, sealing her into a life she did not want.

I walked away before I did something reckless.

Before I crossed the room and ruined everything.

Now I sit alone in my old bedroom, lights off, city glowing outside the window. My hands are clenched so tight my palms hurt.

She looked at me tonight like she was standing too close to the edge of something dangerous.

Like she knew.

I saw the hunger in her stare. The same hunger that had pulled her toward the fire that night. The same hunger that made her whisper my name until she broke.

She thinks she can stand this close and walk away untouched.

She is wrong.

Noah thinks he owns her.

He does not know what he is holding.

Something in me wants to stain her. Wants to ruin the clean picture they have built. Wants to remind her body of who taught it how to ache.

She belongs to the golden boy now.

And that makes the urge darker.

She does not know she is playing with fire.

She does not know I do not lose.

If she keeps looking at me like that, if she keeps pretending her hands do not remember, she will burn.

And this time, I will not stop it.