Chapter 4

Liam' s reaction was immediate. He physically turned his body away from me, moving to stand protectively in front of Sarah. The shift was so blatant, so complete, it stole my breath.

"Babe, are you okay?" he asked her, his voice dripping with a tenderness that was a knife to my gut. He took her hand, the one with the tiny bandage, and examined it as if it were a mortal wound. "Does it still hurt?"

"It' s fine," Sarah snapped, pulling her hand away. She didn' t take her eyes off me. "I asked you a question. Who is she?"

Liam glanced back at me, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. He wanted me to play along. He wanted me to save him.

"This is Chloe," he said, his voice strained. "She' s... she' s Ryan' s sister. You know, my best friend, Ryan."

Ryan' s sister. After three years, that' s all I was. A footnote. A convenient explanation. The casual dismissal, spoken so easily in front of her, was more painful than the break in my ankle. It was the sound of my heart shattering.

I felt the break deep in my chest, a physical, sickening crunch. All the air rushed out of me.

"I was just checking on her," Liam continued, talking too fast. "She had a little accident. We should go, let her rest." He put his arm around Sarah' s shoulders, trying to steer her toward the exit.

But Sarah wasn' t moving. She was assessing me, her eyes narrowed. A slow, smug smile spread across her face. She recognized me from the music scene. The rival.

To save myself from completely falling apart, I forced my own voice to work. I lifted my chin and looked directly at Sarah.

"Chloe Miller," I said, my tone surprisingly steady. "It' s nice to meet you. I' m a big fan of your work." The lie tasted like poison.

Sarah' s smile widened. She had all the power, and she knew it. "Oh, right! Chloe. Liam' s mentioned you. You' re a musician too, aren' t you? That' s cute."

She then turned to Liam, her voice all sugar. "Actually, it' s my birthday tomorrow night. I' m having a small get-together at The Velvet Lounge. Chloe, you should come! Liam, make sure she comes, okay?"

It wasn' t an invitation; it was a command. A way to display her trophy.

"Sarah, I don' t think..." Liam started, looking at my cast.

"Nonsense," Sarah interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "It' ll be fun. You can' t let a little sprain keep you cooped up." She looked me up and down. "I insist."

Liam didn' t even look at me for my answer. He just nodded at Sarah, desperate to appease her. "Yeah. Of course. We' ll be there."

We.

The next night, I was a ghost at the party. Liam picked me up, his silence a heavy blanket of guilt. He helped me with my crutches, his touch clinical and distant.

The Velvet Lounge was crowded and loud. Sarah' s friends, a clique of beautiful, cruel people, looked right through me. I found a small table in a dark corner, my cast propped up on a chair. I was an island of misery in an ocean of forced celebration.

Liam disappeared into the crowd, immediately finding Sarah. He never looked back.

Later, one of Sarah' s friends, a girl with sharp eyes and a sharper smile, announced they were playing a game. Truth or Dare. My stomach clenched.

Of course, the bottle landed on me.

"Truth or Dare, Chloe?" the girl purred.

"Truth," I mumbled.

Her smile was predatory. "Is it true you' re still single at... what is it, twenty-eight? Is it because you' re too focused on your little music hobby, or can you just not find anyone willing to put up with you?"

The table erupted in laughter. I felt my face burn with shame. I looked for Liam, a desperate, foolish plea for help. He was standing by the bar with Sarah, his back to me. He heard them laughing, but he didn' t turn around. He didn't defend me. He let it happen.

The final humiliation came an hour later. Sarah grabbed a microphone and pulled Liam onto the small stage.

"I want to sing a special song with a very special person," she announced, beaming at Liam.

The opening chords of their song, the one they' d written together years ago, filled the room. It was a song about soulmates, about a love that could weather any storm. They sang to each other, their eyes locked, the rest of the world fading away.

I was forced to watch as the man I loved, the man who had been in my bed less than twenty-four hours ago, serenaded another woman.

When the song ended, the crowd roared. Liam leaned in and kissed her. It wasn' t a quick peck. It was a deep, passionate, claiming kiss, right there on stage for everyone to see. He poured every ounce of the feeling he' d faked with me into that one, public kiss.

And I watched. I watched until I couldn' t see anything at all through the blur of my own tears.