Chapter 17

Quinn

I was still inside my house when I heard the smoke alarm go off. It was a horrible screech, mechanical, harrowing, and it forced me out the door faster than I knew I could run.

Tyler’s house seemed perfectly normal, at least from my porch but as I drew closer, I smelled the smoke. During these minutes, I couldn’t comprehend anything but my own panic. I raced into the foyer, finding Rachel and Randy poised, staring into the kitchen, where a flickering fire had begun to consume the countertop. Big, dripping tears descended down Rachel’s cheeks. When she saw me, she started apologizing frantically, until her words rolled into a series of coughs, which chilled me to the bone.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “The toaster. It just caught on fire.”

“Go outside!” I ordered, pointing toward the front yard. “Take Randy with you!”

“My science experiments!” she screamed back, falling into another cough. She was a reminder that when we were in over our heads, we always think of the worst, most unimportant things and cling to them. She wouldn’t survive without those science experiments, her brain told her. No way.

But I didn’t answer her, allowing my order to stand. I raced toward the kitchen, grabbing the fire extinguisher on the far side of the room. I began to spray the foam on it, hearing sirens in the distance. Fire trucks. Just in case the fire engulfed the entire house, they would have my back. I heard Rachel weeping loudly from the front yard.

The foam barreled over the countertop, gradually stamping out the flames. I felt my hair licking at the back of my neck with the heat. Beads of sweat formed, drawing across my forehead and cheeks, and making me feel ragged and animalistic. As I brought the foam over the toaster, the countertop, and the stove, I heard myself growl slightly—kicking up the smoke in my lungs.

Moments later, two firemen bolted in through the back door. One of them grabbed me, carrying me from the blackened kitchen, while the other took care of what was left. The man draped me into the grass, where I coughed evenly for a full two minutes, sensing neighbor eyes on me. As I came-to, I realized that Rachel and Randy were beside me. Rachel looked white-faced, soft and meek. Randy licked at her face, drawing it upward, through her hair. I brought her into a tight hug, watching as the firemen stomped from the house. They called to me, saying something that sounded like, “All clear!”

But I couldn’t be sure.

I felt someone’s hand on my back a moment later. In my chaotic mind, I thought, surely, it was Tyler. I blinked up at him, bringing a smile to my face.

“Hey. What happened? I heard the trucks.”

It was Chris. Tears sprung up in my eyes, as I realized just how much I wanted Tyler to be there, to draw his arms around Rachel and I and make us feel safe. I nodded to Chris, swiping my hand over Rachel’s hair. “We’re fine,” I replied, over and over again. “We’re going to be all right.”

Chris swayed on his drunken feet, blinking toward the house. A black fog began to emanate from the kitchen windows. One of the firemen approached me, gesturing toward Rachel. His equipment looked too heavy on top of his shoulders as if he would collapse on the ground at any moment.

“You should take her to the hospital,” he said. “She’s pretty white. No telling how much smoke she inhaled. And with kids, it hits them faster. Delicate lungs and the shock—“

I nodded. Working on autopilot, I lifted myself onto shaking legs and then helped Rachel to her feet. Pointing coldly toward my door, I said, “Chris. Make yourself useful. Take the dog inside. And then go the hell to sleep.”

Chris cowered, looking like he was ready to protest. But he sensed my anger and the urgency of the situation. Drawing his hand around Randy’s collar, he led the dog back into the shadow of my doorway. And then, he clicked the door closed, leaving us in peace.

“Who was that?” Rachel asked, her voice just a string.

“Just someone who shouldn’t be here,” I said, drawing her into my arms. “I’m going to drive you to the hospital, all right?”

“Did anything in my room get burnt?” she whispered into my shoulder. “I had all those plants I was researching for next week’s project. You don’t think the heat—will ruin—the experiment?”

“Don’t be silly. They’ll be fine,” I said.

Easing her onto the front passenger seat, I buckled her in and then raced into the driver’s, coughing as I put the key in the ignition. As I backed out, I watched the kitchen light in my house click on, revealing Chris at the sink, filling Randy’s dog bowl with water.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said again, blubbering slightly. “You aren’t going to tell my dad, are you? That I set fire to our house?”

“Rachel, it wasn’t your fault, baby,” I found myself saying, over and over. I reached across the center and clung to her hand, squeezing it tight. She needed to know someone was there for her and that a silly toaster fire wouldn’t ruin her life. “The doctor’s just going to check out your lungs and make sure you’re all right to go home again. And when we get there? I’ll call your dad as soon as I can. I know he can’t wait to see you.”

The reality didn’t wash over me until long after I’d sent Rachel away with one of the emergency doctors. I sat in one of those plastic chairs, calling Tyler’s phone—which was still off, as he hadn’t yet landed. I’d been the sole protector of his daughter, and I’d landed her in the hospital. If he wasn’t sure about me, to begin with—if I was worth altering his entire life—then this would surely make up his mind.

I knew, at that moment, poised on the plastic chair and sipping a burnt cup of coffee, that it was over between us. Just like that, reality had slashed any strings we’d ever had. And I would have to face the consequences, alone.