Now open your eyes

Three days had passed since Ethan rescued me from the fire I’d caused. I’d wanted to burn down with it, to die in my sleep so I could be with the man in my dreams, Ollie, forever. But once again, Ethan had taken him away from me.

My plan to remain compliant backfired. I’d tried to run away, but what people never seemed to realize was you never had to run to escape from something. The man in my dreams had taught me that. Ollie continuously closed his eyes if he ever needed to escape from the cruel world around him, often bringing me there with him. Then I’d realized people ran away every day, getting lost in work, hobbies, habits, or in my case, my head.

The fire was my way of ru

It was the only way my complex brain understood how to run away.

Ethan and I had barely spoken since. He’d taken me to an abandoned apartment and locked me away in a room. The room seemed commercial, and nothing to a

The bed here was larger with burn holes in the mattress, and the ceiling was stained yellow above. It reeked of cigarette smoke, and I’d never seen Ethan smoke. I’d been tied to this chair, waiting patiently for Ethan to return.

It had been three days since I’d seen the sun, and I’d forgotten how it felt on my skin. I wondered if I’d ever see or feel it again, but if it burned my skin as the fire had, I never wanted to be in it. Perhaps I was better off inside.

I didn’t know what time it was, either.

Ethan pushed through the door with bags lining his arms, rain dripping from his hair and leather jacket, and he paused as soon as our eyes locked. “This is only temporary,” he said, reading my thoughts and looking at me as if I was a huge mistake. A regret. Did he regret saving me too?

He placed the bags over the dresser, and I tilted my head to see them filled with snacks for us to get through the evening. I snapped my head forward again as he walked toward me, crouched down between my thighs, and leaned forward to peel the tape from my mouth. “I’m not hungry,” I whispered low, and the muscles in his neck flexed in response.

Ethan lifted his head, and his face was within inches of mine. His eyes darted back and forth, and he dragged in a breath. “You need to eat,” he said slowly with a delicate sincerity in his eyes, the kind mixed with longing. I had to remind myself he’d forced me in this position, and my heart was with someone I’d clearly imagined—so entirely stupid. How did I fall in love with a person who wasn’t even real? How on earth did I give a fictional character my heart?

He stood, removed his leather jacket, and hung it on a hook beside the bedroom door before switching on the heater. “Listen, Mia. I know this past week hasn’t been easy, but you have to know I won’t let anything happen to you,” he turned to face me and placed a hand over his heart, “I’m not your enemy.”

“Then let me go.” It was easy to say, and I already knew the answer, but I didn’t want him to think I wanted to be here with him, that I liked being held against my will—just in case the fire wasn’t proof enough.

“You know I can’t do that.”

The tone in his voice sounded as if he was talking down to me. We were back to the big brother and little sister. Out of all the roles we’d played, brother and sister was the worst. I didn’t like being told what to do. I didn’t like being talked down to as if I didn’t know any better. “And why not?” I leaned forward, and the ties dug into my flesh, but I didn’t care anymore. “I wanted to die! You took that away from me. All I wanted was to be with him!”

Ethan stood over me, raising a brow. “With who?”

Telling him would be stupid, but I had nothing left to lose at this point. He already believed I was crazy. “Ollie.”

Ethan dropped to his knees before me and clutched my shoulders, his face red. “Masters doesn’t care about you. You want to know the truth, Jett?” he pulled his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans, and his fingers typed over the keypad. The light from the screen bounced off his dilated infuriated pupils. “Look! Tell me what you see! Because from the looks of it, your prince fucking charming looks like he’s having a grand ole time not looking for you.”

He pressed a button, and the phone clicked to a black screen, but the image had already burned into my brain. Oliver Masters first book signing in London at Daunt Books. It was the man from my dreams, only different. He was the same yesterday’s child with the wayward brown hair and fierce green eyes, but he was dressed in a black button-up and tailored jeans with a forced smile. His height towered over two other women as he held up a book with his face on the cover. “He’s real.”

“Yeah, a real liar if you ask me.” Ethan pocketed the cellphone and returned his eyes to mine. “Listen to me, Jett. He’s been lying to you and everyone else this entire time, making moves to build a life without you. I didn’t want to tell you this, especially now. But you needed to know.”

I didn’t imagine him. He was real. He was mine.

They weren’t dreams I was having. They were memories.

“My mum once told me that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Masters was only a season, a way to pass the time to make his bearable. You’re with me for a reason.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“Did that look like someone who fucking loves you?” Ethan shook his head and wrapped his fingers around the sides of my thighs. “I’m sorry, Jett. No one is looking for you. No one else gives a fuck about you. To everyone else, you. Are. No. One. Rubbish. It’s you and me now. We need to stick together. I’ll take care of you.”

Each word was a knife to the chest. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to rob the pain from inside and stop my lip from trembling. I’d heard Ethan, loud and clear. The words registered, but I still couldn’t understand. Ollie wasn’t looking for me. No one cared I was gone. “My dad isn’t looking for me?”

Ethan let out a disheartened chuckle. “Which one?”

I dipped my head back and blinked the tears from my eyes. “What do you mean.”

“Lynch or Bruce? Your biological dad or your fake one? And no, neither one of them are looking for you.”

“You’re lying.”

Ethan raised a brow. “You didn’t know?”

“This is too much.” I pulled on the restraints again, begging to be out of them. The chair wobbled, and Ethan held down my arms to keep me still. Narrowing my eyes, I looked straight into his and screamed through the uncontrollable tears, “You mean to tell me you knew this entire time Lynch was my dad, and you didn’t say anything? You’re just as much of a liar as everyone else!” The chair rocked back and forth as I thrashed.

“You need to calm down, Jett! You’re going to hurt yourself,” his grip tightened, trying to keep me still until finally, he leaned over and cut my hands loose, then my ankles, “It wasn’t my place! I thought Masters told you, he said he should be the one, and that Lynch lost his chance.”

I froze, and a lump made of deceit lodged in my throat. “Ollie knew?”

“I’m sorry.” Ethan’s strong hands moved up and down my heavy arms, and he shook his head. “God, I’m so fucking sorry. I thought you knew.”