He Left Me in the Fire

The second I hung up, Nathan walked in.

He wore a T-shirt printed with a cartoon bunny.

He never used to wear anything like that. I'd once bought him one on a whim.

He hadn't even glanced at it before tossing it, packaging and all, straight into the trash.

"Serena! Can you stop being so childish!"

But lately, he'd been wearing shirts just like it.

Because Vivian liked cartoon bunnies.

"Does it still hurt? Who were you calling this late?"

Even as he showed concern, his eyes instinctively avoided the raw, bleeding wounds on my back.

"My lawyer," I said flatly.

He gave a casual "oh," then seemed to remember something.

"Don't press charges. Vivian was just trying to set up a birthday party for you.

"She didn't know the old wiring would catch fire."

For once, I didn't argue.

I picked up my phone and started looking up train tickets out of town.

Nathan got no response from me.

He reached over and toyed with a strand of my hair.

"The doctor said your burns aren't serious. The wounds should close in three or four months. They'll leave scars, though."

I scrolled through tickets, swallowing the searing pain. "Mm."

The doctor had also warned that the risk of infection was extremely high.

Even after the wounds healed, the scars would be permanent and itch for the rest of my life.

But by then, Nathan had already gone to coax Vivian into eating her oatmeal.

"At least the baby's fine."

When I showed no reaction, Nathan bent toward me, ready to placate me.

"Looking at tickets? Where do you want to go?"

Just then, a soft, raspy voice called from the doorway.

"Nathan, where are you?"

He straightened at once, helped Vivian out, and left without a backward glance.

As she left, Vivian shot me a smug look.

I pressed a pillow over my ears, but I could still hear the murmuring next door.

Nathan's voice tightened with anxiety.

"Your brother, Jason Ashford, was my brother-in-arms. He died saving me, and I promised I'd always take care of you.

"I won't break that promise!"

Vivian gave a coy little huff. "How do I know you're not just saying that?"

Nathan swore, "If I'm lying, may I never have a son."

In my belly, the baby seemed to stir.

The doctor had said it was most likely a boy.

Vivian giggled.

I gripped my phone and booked a train ticket south for next Monday.

The next morning, Nathan took Vivian on the earliest flight to New Orleans for brunch.

During their video call, Nathan spooned shrimp and grits onto Vivian's plate.

"Vivian loves shrimp and grits, so I brought her here. I was hoping it might jog her memory.

"I know you like it too, so I ordered some for you."

I froze for a beat, then asked the obvious question.

"The doctor said I can't eat seafood. It could make my wounds swell or become infected."

Nathan's expression shifted, his tone impatient.

"Then don't eat it."

The call ended with a sharp beep.

I opened my message thread with Nathan and forwarded the video Derek had sent me.

In the footage, Vivian crept up to the main electrical cable with a utility knife and sliced into the insulation.

Nathan called back at once. Shock flashed across his face, but he defended her without hesitation.

"This has to be a misunderstanding.

"Her brother Jason died saving my life. She would never do this."

"Sure."

I was so calm that Nathan could tell I had no intention of arguing.

He agreed to take me to see his parents at their home after I was discharged the following week.

In three years of marriage, Nathan's parents, Robert and Elaine Carter, had never acknowledged me because I was an orphan.

Yet on Vivian's first day with the family, Elaine gave her the heirloom bracelet.