Page 1 of Chasing the Flame
Step carefully, darling...
Some flames were never meant to warm you... No, they were made to watch you burn...
This huge house is lovely in that old, forgotten way. Some might even call it hauntingly beautiful. Faded wallpaper that cracks in big spots along the halls and rooms, remnants of the past that seem determined to stay.
It’s cold in here, despite the late summer heat. It doesn’t matter; it wasn’t even my first choice. I didn’t want to come here, though my wants or needs never hold much weight.
It’s a running theme in my life, one that has me filling my days with mindless drivel—a soap opera here, a bottle of wine there, and brainstorming increasingly desperate ways to get the hell out of this place.
I sigh, drumming my fingers against the kitchen counter. The cheap linoleum is one of many things I hope to replace in this ancient house.
Hope.
I nearly snort at the thought. That’s funny and rich, even coming from me—the queen of a glass half-full.
I’m bored. And boredom? It's never a good thing.
Boredom leads me to fucked-up decisions. The kind that would have Luke blowing a gasket or icing me out with weeks of silenttreatment. It’s always something with him—a never-ending stream of bullshit.
I smooth a hand over the poor man’s imitation of marble and turn to face my husband, plastering a saccharine smile onto my lips. “It’s perfect, Luke,” I say, my stomach twisting at the lie.
I couldn’t give a single goddamn about this house or the waves cresting in our yard—lakefront property. Typical Luke—always reaching for status. A home like this is another way to prove something, even if I don’t know who he’s trying to impress anymore.
He nods in my direction, dismissing me as he scribbles his name across the last of the paperwork. If he’s not ignoring me, he’s finding ways to belittle me, to remind me who’s in control.
He wasn’t always like this. Once, somewhere in the past, even if it feels like another lifetime, he was the man I fell in love with.
I used to have a job, a real career. It’s been five years since I stepped foot in an office, and the loss still sits heavy in my chest. God, I miss it. I had everything. One of the top publishing firms, a corner office overlooking Times Square—a career most would kill for.
And I threw it all away for Luke.
Now? I’m just another silly aspiring author writing a novel I’m not sure will sell—something to pass the time between cooking Luke’s meals and scrubbing his house. And, of course, he doesn’t give a shit. Not unless it distracts me from him.
“Averie, darling. C’mere.”
Luke’s voice snaps me out of my haze. That tone—I’d recognize it anywhere. Sharp enough to cut steel, yet soft enough that no one ever sees the blade. His brows pull together in that tight little expression that masquerades as concern. Luke holds out a hand, and I step forward, taking the pen and signing my name on the dotted line.
He steps closer, a hand sliding to my lower back. To anyone else, the touch would look affectionate. To me? It’s a warning.
His fingers tighten around my hip. The squeeze is sharp. Cruel. I grit my teeth, forcing my body to stay still. Another squeeze—this time, his hand slides beneath my shirt, pinching the sensitive skin at my waist. I knew it was coming, but it didn’t stop the flinch.
Fucking asshole.
It’s not enough that he moved me away from everything I knew—everything I was. No, he has to start this shit before the ink is even dry.
I stand stiffly at his side when I've signed everything, silent as the realtor prattles on. There’s no point in speaking. There's no point in trying.
Luke makes it a point to shut me out. Another display of dominance. Another reminder that he holds the reins.
But he forgets something...
Even caged animals bite.
It’s our moving day. A day I’ve dreaded with every fiber of my being since we purchased the house in this rotten town: Liberty, Michigan, population one thousand five hundred and seventy-three. Small-townvibes don't even begin to cover it. I’m already sick of the small city that houses a single Wally’s, a tiny diner, a small string of shops downtown, the power plant that apparently employs nearly everyone, a small but classy-looking restaurant, three schools, and the biggest church I’ve ever seen.
That’s all there is to Liberty. The nearest mall is more than forty minutes away, making me miss our apartment in New York. I could have anything and everything I wanted on one-day delivery. I sigh, running my fingers over the fake marble countertops in our enormous kitchen.
As I take in the expansive space, my mind wanders to memories of when I first met Luke.
