I dug a small grave below the tree where she used to watch birds. With every shovelful of dirt, I felt more alone. Jinx had been my only true companion during those empty years with Derek. Now even she was gone.
When I finished, I went to shower off the dirt and blood. The water had barely turned warm when I smelled it, smoke.
I threw on clothes and raced downstairs, following the scent until I burst through the front door. My heart stopped.
My design studio, the small building where I'd created every piece of clothing I'd ever sold was engulfed in fire. Five years of work, fabric, and designs burning before my eyes. My car sat in front, also consumed by fire, its metal frame glowing orange.
Tara stood on the lawn, a red gas can dangling from her fingers. Her nose had stopped bleeding but was swollen to twice its normal size.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she called over the roar of the flames. "Fire purifies everything it touches."
I lunged toward her but she danced back. "Your precious designs, your pathetic attempts at creating something beautiful—all gone. Just like your dreams of leaving us."
"You psychotic bitch," I growled, stepping toward her.