Later on our way to the garage
---
The smoke could be seen from two blocks away.
Thick. Black. Curling like fingers reaching for the sky.
Jesse slammed the truck into park before it even rolled to a full stop.
I barely unbuckled before he was out—running toward the garage with a look I hadn't seen in months.
Fear.
And underneath that?
Rage.
---
By the time we reached the door, the fire was mostly out.
One of the neighbors had called it in.
The damage wasn't total—but it was intentional.
Someone had broken in through the back.
Torched a filing cabinet.
Smashed a few shelves.
And written one word on the wall in spray paint:
"LIAR."
---
Jesse didn't speak for a long time.
Just stared.
At the broken glass.
At the melted drawer handles.
At the one spot in the wall where the flame had licked too close to the ceiling fan.
Evan showed up ten minutes later, eyes wide.
"Jesus, Jesse. Who—?"
"I know who," Jesse cut him off. Voice flat. Low. Cold.
I stepped closer.
"Who?"
But Jesse wouldn't look at me.
---
Back at the apartment, I paced.
Jesse sat at the edge of the bed.
Elbows on his knees.
Hands knotted together like if he let go, he'd unravel.
Finally, I stopped.
Stared at him.
"Tell me what you're not saying."
Silence.
"Was it Reid?"
Still nothing.
I raised my voice. "Jesse."
He looked up then.
Eyes tired. Haunted.
"It wasn't Reid."
"Then who?"
He exhaled.
And dropped a name I hadn't heard before.
"Micah."
---
"Who the hell is Micah?" I asked, heart pounding.
Jesse stood. Began pacing.
"He was my first. Before Reid. Before the scene. Before I knew what the hell I was doing."
"And?"
"And I left him. When things got bad. When I got bad."
His jaw clenched.
"He always said I'd pay for walking away. I just didn't think he'd wait this long."
I sat down slowly.
"And you didn't tell me because…"
"Because I didn't want you to see me that way again. Weak. Running."
---
I stood.
Walked to him.
Gripped his face in both hands.
"You think I only want the man who's strong? Who fixes things?"
He didn't answer.
So I said it for him.
"I love the man who burns, Jesse. And I'm not leaving just because something around you got scorched."
---
His forehead dropped to mine.
And in a whisper like an apology, he said:
"I need to finish this. I need to find him."
I nodded.
"We will."