Chapter 1
Callie's pen hovered over the final line. One signature, and five years of her life would officially end. The fluorescent lights of the courthouse buzzed overhead, making her skin look sickly pale.
"Just sign it, Cal." Her lawyer's voice was gentle but firm. "It's been six months of fighting. It's time."
She signed. The pen scratched against paper, spelling out freedom she didn't feel. Callie Madison. No longer Callie Wagner.
Her lawyer gathered the papers, nodding with business-like efficiency. "Congratulations. You're officially divorced."
Funny. She didn't feel like celebrating.
Outside the courthouse, rain fell in sheets. Callie stood under the overhang, watching people rush by with umbrellas and raincoats. Normal people with normal lives. She took a deep breath, tasting the metallic tang of city air.
It was over. Finally over.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. A text from Megan, her only friend who'd stuck around through the divorce.
*You need to see this. I'm sorry.*
A link followed. Heart sinking, Callie clicked it.
Rylan's Instagram. Photos she'd never seen before. Rylan with his arm around a blonde woman. Kissing her. The dates in the captions went back eighteen months.
Eighteen months.
Another message popped up from Megan.
*There's more. He's been telling everyone you're unstable. That you were "clingy" and "crazy." People believe him, Cal.*
Callie's hands shook. A third of their marriage, he'd been with someone else. While she'd been working extra shifts to help pay for his business degree. While she'd been planning their future. While she'd been blaming herself for their problems.
Her phone buzzed again. A bank notification.
*Account balance: $212.36*
She closed her eyes, leaning against the cold stone pillar. Their joint account. He'd cleaned it out. The account that was supposed to have her half of their savings—almost fifteen thousand dollars.
Rain pelted her face as she stepped into the storm, not caring anymore about getting wet. The divorce papers had split their debts equally. Debts she now realized were probably all his.
The truth crashed down on her, heavier than the rain. She'd been played. Completely. Thoroughly. And now she was standing in the rain with nothing but her car, a suitcase in the trunk, and barely enough money for a tank of gas.
She hadn't cried once during the divorce proceedings. Not once during the mediation. Not even when she moved out of their apartment.
But now, hot tears mixed with cold rain on her cheeks.
Her phone buzzed again. Megan.
*Are you okay?*
Callie stared at the message, then at the darkening sky. Was she okay? No. Not at all.
But she would be.
She typed back: *I will be. I'm leaving. Don't tell anyone.*
Megan responded instantly: *Where will you go?*
Callie thought of the one place Rylan would never look for her. The place she'd run from ten years ago. The dusty, forgotten town with its secrets and ghosts.
*Home,* she typed. *I'm going home.*
She didn't wait for Megan's response. She dropped her phone into her purse, pulled her car keys from her pocket, and began walking toward the parking garage.
With each step, something hardened inside her. The hurt crystallized into something sharper, something with edges. Something that could cut.
She wouldn't cry anymore. She wouldn't be the victim of Rylan's story. If he wanted to paint her as crazy, fine. Let him. She had nothing more to lose.
The rain soaked through her blouse, plastering it to her skin. Her sensible court heels clicked against concrete, the sound echoing in the parking garage.
By the time she reached her car—the only thing she'd insisted on keeping in the divorce—her mind was made up. She'd go back to the place she swore she'd never return to. Back to ghosts and memories and unfinished business.
Back to Raven's Creek.
She slid into the driver's seat, her wet clothes sticking to the leather. Her reflection in the rearview mirror startled her—eyes fierce, makeup streaked down her cheeks, hair wild. She hardly recognized herself.
Good. She didn't want to be recognizable. Not anymore.
Callie turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, steady and certain in a way nothing else in her life was.
"Goodbye, Rylan," she whispered, backing out of the parking space. "Go to hell."
Three hours later, she crossed the state line, leaving behind the city lights, the rain, and the woman she'd been for five years. The road stretched before her, empty and dark.
She turned up the radio, letting some angry woman's voice fill the car. Singing about burning it all down and rising from ashes.
That's exactly what she would do.
