Hailey:

I drive back on autopilot. Sean’s getting fired. Nick kissed another.

When I woke up today, everything seemed so hopeful. Now my life appears to be unraveling.

A black car almost collides into me as I make the right-hand turn into my street. I catch a glimpse of the driver, a woman with sunglasses covering half her face, and I have to wrench my wheel to the right and almost go into the ditch to avoid her. “What the hell?” I swear out loud, leaning on my horn in annoyance. She was on the wrong side of the road, driving twenty miles an hour over the speed limit.

People really need to stop texting and driving.

My palms are sweaty after my near miss. I pull up to the cottage and unlock the front door with shaking fingers. The smell of varnish hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s stronger than ever. Nick will know what’s going on.

Nick kissed another woman. He slept with her last week. She can’t wait for another go.

I should have never believed in fairy tales. Now, it’s all over.

I step over the cans of paint on the kitchen floor. We were going to tackle the last unpainted room this week, the second bedroom. I was finally going to set up a proper office. Mechanically, I make my way there, looking at the small, bare, windowless room again, trying to summon up some enthusiasm about the project. The past two weeks have been a flurry of activity, but it’s been worth it. Or so I thought.

Hang on.

She slept with him last week?

That’s not right. He’s spent every night in bed with me. Every spare hour working on renovating the cottage.

Yes, it’s technically possible that he could have slept with her. He could have sneaked out during work to bang her. I don’t have a tracking device around his ankles.

And I don’t want one. I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel the need to know where Nick and Sean are every possible second. I don’t want to sneak into their phones and snoop around. I don’t want to live in fear that they’re going to cheat on me.

In my heart, I know Nick didn’t fuck that woman. That’s not his style. Nick’s direct, and he’s blunt, and if he doesn’t want to be with me, he’ll tell me. Tuesday night, he’d told me that he’d started out only wanting casual sex, even though it would have been infinitely more romantic to pretend he’s always been in love with me. But that’s not Nick.

There’s a crackling sound coming from the living room. Wondering if a stray squirrel has run into the house through the open windows, I go to investigate.

But the moment I throw the door open, I know I’ve made a mistake. I’m greeted by a sheet of fire. The living room is ablaze, and I’m trapped in the only room in the house without a window.

I slam the door shut, and back away. Smoke seeps through the bottom of the door. I whip off my shirt and pants and try to seal the cracks with my clothes, but it’s not enough. There’s nothing else in the room, no towels, no sheets, nothing that I can use to stop it.

My lungs burn, and I cough, long and hard. There’s no air for me to breathe.

The fumes are going to overwhelm me. I don’t have much time.

I curl into a ball on the floor, as far away from the door as I can manage. I only wish I’d told Sean and Nick that I loved them.

* * *

Sean:

The cottage is ablaze, and I don’t have a crew. It’s just me.

Men have been known to lose their heads when they see their loved ones at risk.

For one brief second, there’s a strand of hope in my heart. Maybe Hailey’s still interviewing Hardy. Then I see her car in the driveway, and my chest tightens. She’s home. She’s trapped.

Come on, come on. I tug at the hose, dragging it into position. It’s too heavy. Damn it, come on, Keefer.

Then I feel another body run up, another set of hands moving the hose. Nick. “It’s Reva” His face white with fear. “She’s been setting the fires.”

“I know.”

The floors are freshly varnished hardwood. Hailey’s stove is natural gas. The cottage isn’t old and charming anymore. It’s a deathtrap.

Nick slaps a mask on his face. “I’m going in.”

I grab one as well. “So am I.”

We crawl through room after room. She’s not in the kitchen. Not in the living room, not in her bedroom. I’m about to give into despair when I remember the office.

The door is shut. Nick and I throw our shoulders against it, and it falls open, and my heart leaps into my throat. She’s in a far corner, huddled on the floor, and she isn’t moving.

I pull my mask off my face and slap it on Hailey’s. She shudders and coughs, and her chest rises and falls as she breathes in the sweet, life-giving oxygen. My shoulders slump with relief as she opens her eyes. Nick takes off his jacket and covers her with it. Good idea. The thick flame-retardant fabric will protect her as long as possible.

He taps my shoulder. “We’re stuck,” he says, his voice calmer than I’d think possible. “There’s no way out.”

The entire place is ablaze, the stream of water from my single hose no match for the raw hunger of the fire. It rages, wild and uncontrolled all around us. We’re trapped, and there’s nowhere to go.

This is every firefighter’s nightmare.

Then I hear it. A faint sound of sirens growing closer. Kowalski must have called it in. Thank heavens.

We’re going to be okay.