Burn After You

9

Emma’s POV

I should’ve known better than to let them both close. That was my first mistake.

The second was thinking my heart could survive being caught between them.

It started with a look. One too long. One too loaded. Jace had just passed me in the library, his fingers brushing mine when I reached for the same book. He didn’t say anything, he never did when he knew I was still angry, but his eyes said enough.

I’m still here.

And maybe that was why I stayed frozen too long, still holding the book, when Elias showed up not five minutes later.

“You keep doing that,” he said, half-laughing as he tugged the book from my hand.

“Doing what?”

“Getting lost in your own head.”

I forced a smile. “Better than getting lost in other people’s mess.”

He studied me for a beat. “You mean Jace.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He was always gentle. Always steady. The kind of safe you don’t realize you need until you’re drowning. But maybe that was the problem. I wasn’t drowning. I was burning.

And it wasn’t Elias who lit the match.

Still, I followed him when he offered coffee. Still, I listened when he talked about his new art project. Still, I laughed when he joked about our high school memories.

And maybe, in some quiet corner of myself, I let the softness feel like a cure.

But cures don’t kiss you like that.

We were walking through the courtyard when he stopped. His hand found mine. His thumb brushed my wrist like it was memorizing the pulse there. And before I could even inhale, he leaned in.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

The kind of kiss that begged for something I hadn’t promised.

I pulled back.

Too late.

Because Jace was standing ten feet away, eyes hard, jaw locked, every part of him screaming a violence I hadn’t seen since the night someone broke into my room.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

Elias noticed the shift behind me. “Shit.”

“Nice timing,” Jace said, voice like a knife dragged slow.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I started.

“Looks like he’s trying to be me,” Jace snapped. “But you and I both know he doesn’t even come close.”

Elias stepped forward. “You want to say that again?”

Jace didn’t hesitate. “She’s not yours.”

The first punch landed before I could react.

And just like that, the courtyard exploded.

Fists, shouting, a blur of movement as Jace slammed Elias against a bench. Elias fought back, hitting harder than I thought he could. Students started gathering. Someone pulled out a phone. I tried to get between them, but Jace shoved me behind him before I could catch my balance.

“Stop it!” I screamed.

They didn’t stop.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was a war—two boys battling over something neither of them understood.

Me.

When a security whistle finally sounded from across the quad, they broke apart, blood dripping from Jace’s lip, Elias gasping through a split nose.

“I’m fine,” I said, waving off the staff rushing toward us. “I’m fine. Just get them away from each other.”

Jace didn’t look at me as he walked away.

Elias did.

But his eyes weren’t soft this time.

They were full of something else.

Judgment.

That night, I sat on my bed with the lights off. My pillow still smelled like Jace. The shirt with Paige’s name was stuffed in my drawer, hidden like it could stop haunting me.

I was angry.

At both of them.

At myself.

Because no matter how much I tried to sort out what I felt, the lines kept blurring. Jace made me feel things that terrified me. Elias made me feel safe. But I wasn’t sure which one was real—or which one I wanted.

The truth?

I wanted both.

And maybe that made me selfish. Or stupid.

Or just human.

My phone buzzed.

No caller ID.

I didn’t answer at first.

It buzzed again.

Then a text.

Answer. It’s about Paige.

I picked up.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

Then a breath.

And a voice I didn’t recognize whispered into the silence.

“She was pregnant.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

The voice didn’t repeat it.

Just added one more sentence before hanging up.

“Just like you might be.”