I was still shuddering when the two of us left the theater, and not just from the cold. My hometown of Eufaula, Oklahoma was currently iceberg cold, but it wasn’t the weather that had me shivering.

“That’s it,” I told Wylie, giving him a look of mock outrage. “I’m picking the movie the next time we go out.” I snorted. “For the next month.”

He grinned at me. “Hey, come on. What’s not to like about seeing—”

Clapping my hand over his mouth, I shook my head. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t even go there.”

“Wuss.” He said it playfully and kissed my palm before lowering my hand and linking our fingers.

We walked together to his car, our hands swinging between us. It was cold, flurries drifting down. I wanted to get home and curl up under a blanket. Maybe with Wylie. Sliding him a look, I asked, “You wanna stay the night?”

“How about you spend the night with me instead?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No. Your roommate’s weird.”

“You live above your parents’ bookstore,” he pointed out. “Your dad saw me leaving one morning, and I thought he was going to haul out a shotgun and march us down the aisle.”

I laughed. “My dad doesn’t own a shotgun.”

“Fine. He’d pick up the biggest, heaviest book in that dusty old store and beat me over the head with it until I convinced you to marry me.” His eyes glittered as he opened my door, crowding me up into the space.

The heat of his body felt good, and I hooked my hands in the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer. “Poor Wylie,” I teased. “Scared of some dusty old books and my nice, quiet daddy.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He brushed his mouth against mine. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me.” I rose up onto my toes.

His mouth opened, but just as the kiss started to deepen, a couple of kids passed by, whooping at us.

Groaning, I broke away. Giving him a hopeful look, I said, “Come on. Stay with me. I’ll protect you from my dad and the dusty books of death.”

He grinned and brushed my hair back from my face. “Alright, Tish, my love. If you insist.”

The sound of sirens wailing in the air had Wylie checking the mirror, then pulling over for them to pass when we were still a few miles from home. He was about ready to pull back out, only to stop as another firetruck appeared behind us, blasting by at a speed that shook our vehicle.

We encountered another one a couple minutes later, and I glanced over at Wylie. “Somebody’s not having a very good night.”

“Doesn’t look that way.” His eyes flicked to mine as I reached over and took his hand.

Eufaula was a small town, home to only a few thousand people. While I couldn’t say everybody knew everybody, we were a pretty tight-knit community, and if either Wylie or I didn’t know who was in need of so many emergency vehicles, then we’d definitely know somebody who did.

The peace of the night shattered by the sirens, I shifted in agitation while rubbing my thumb over the back of Wylie’s hand.

My nerves got worse as an ambulance passed us at the interchange just before my street. My chest got tighter, and I squeezed Wylie’s hand harder.

He squeezed back as he eased up to the stop sign.

“Oh, no,” I whispered.

I knew this strip of road so well I didn’t need to get any closer to know what was burning. “Park the car!”

He was already doing so. I was out and running before Wylie could turn the engine off.

He caught up with me as I crossed the street. The snow had gotten heavier, and I blinked it from my eyes, searching the crowd that had gathered around for my parents. The store closed earlier during the winter. It was already past ten. They would have been at home by now, although everybody around here knew Mom and Dad. Somebody would have called them.

The thick cluster of people made it hard for me to get any closer, but I shoved my way through, calling for my parents.

Wylie stayed at my side, and when the bodies grew too thick for me to handle, he cut in front of me and cleared a path. Finally, we got to the front, and my gut curled in on itself as I caught sight of the store and my apartment over it. Flames spilled out of the windows on the second floor, thick, black smoke choking the air.

Firemen shouted back and forth. My breath caught in my chest as three of them abruptly burst through the front door.

“What are they…” Dread filled my throat.

The two in front carried something with them.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. I took a step back and encountered the solid presence of Wylie’s body. He brought his arms up, wrapping them around me.

Somebody next to me took my hand.

“Tish…”

I recognized the voice and glanced over. It was Mary Sanderson. She ran the bakery that supplied the bookstore with pastries and donuts in the summer.

The store’s gone…

She gave me a sad look, and I blocked out the knowledge I saw in her eyes.

“No,” I said again.

I wanted to turn away, but my entire body felt frozen in place. Mesmerized, I watched as the two firemen came to a halt with their burdens.

Tears burned my eyes, making it almost impossible to see.

I didn’t want to see this.

I didn’t want to know this.

Spinning around, I buried my face against Wylie’s chest.

His arms came around me. I shuddered, a hard sob rising up my throat. I swallowed it back down, certain that if I made even a single sound, I’d start screaming and never stop.

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. I’d just seen them a few hours ago. I’d gone downstairs before leaving for my date with Wylie. I’d given them each a hug and a kiss.

Dad had grumbled under his breath when I told him I was going on a date. “When’s that boy going to do the right thing and marry you?”

Mom had swatted him on the arm, chiding in her soft voice, “You hush, you old grouch.”

The tears broke free, and still, I fought the sobs.

Somebody said my name. I didn’t recognize the voice. But I already knew I didn’t want to talk to whoever it was. Keeping my face buried against Wylie’s chest, I shook my head, like a child tucked away under her blankets, convinced that if she didn’t come out, the monster from her nightmares couldn’t find her.

“Honey. It’s one of the cops,” Wylie said, his voice soft. “You have to talk to him.”

“No,” I told him stubbornly. I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to do anything. I…I couldn’t.

Mom…

Dad.

The tears came harder, and this time, I wasn’t able to hold back the sob, either.

It took a very, very long time to stop crying.