Page 86 of Love Again

“You are not going out there by yourself,” he says, knocking back the aspirin with some water.

We’re both dressed in black jeans and black turtleneck sweaters. He’s got a black leather jacket on, and mine is a stiff, heavy cotton. When I grab the car keys, he frowns and rubs his red eyes.

“Isn’t this only three blocks down?”

“I’m not sitting out in the cold for eight hours,” I say. And neither are you.

He packed a snack pack before he went to bed. He grabs this now and heads down the stairs. I follow with a six-cup thermos of coffee. We are set for a relatively boring morning.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Luke

Muscles stiff and aching, tendons on fire, left kidney flaring, and a drilling behind my eyes. Fuck me.

Devon tosses me the keys to drive, but when I park my truck, I set the seat back as far as it goes. We wave to Nic as he drives by. My brother looks ridiculous cooped up in the passenger seat of the Lexus. Sitting on Grover Street, which is above the bay near the bridge and the lighthouse, Devon and I sit in the dark, waiting. The fishermen will start heading out of the bay around five thirty. Here, they’re all lobstermen—and all men.

We are tucked behind a large three-story house that overlooks the bay. Finn gave us each a pair of night vision binoculars, good to a hundred yards, and we’re well within that range.

“You seem sleepy,” says Devon. “Why don’t you nap and then you can spell me later?” She says this casually while gazing through the binoculars. I don’t have any idea how she knows how shitty I feel.

I close my eyes.

A grip on my arm jolts me awake. It’s light out and nearly sunrise. I grab the day binoculars and look, but I don’t see anything.

Her eyes are wide with fear.

Devon—the fearless one.

And then I hear them—the sirens at the station.

The C of the bay is covered in whitecaps because the wind is so strong. There’s a fire somewhere, but it isn’t the fish mart.

I start the truck and Devon rolls the window down.

“It’s above us,” she says, her voice raspy.

I hit the gas and the truck fishtails onto Main Street.

Then we see it.

It’s not up the mountain. It’s The Inn.

Wide flames lick from around the edges on the east side, and black smoke is already billowing.

“No!” Devon screams and she grabs the dashboard. As we roll to a stop, she flings herself out of the car. Glass breaks from a second-story window, and a chain escape ladder unfurls in an instant.

Salty is wild with fear, running back and forth along the far end of the corral, ducking in and out of his stall so fast he’s going to hurt himself. This is how he came to Claire. He was the victim of a barn fire set on purpose, and he was locked inside.

The fire roars as Salty screams.

I grab the lawn hose with the power nozzle and pull it out straight as Devon cranks the knob on the spigot. The Gulp comes barreling down the side of the hill, my brother at the wheel.

I turn the nozzle. The water pressure is pretty good, and I start spraying the flames at their base along the eastern perimeter.

“I’m going up,” yells Devon, and she starts for the fire-escape ladder. I glance over to see Claire hanging on to the ladder, looking terrified. Finn climbs out as well, and he slips between her and the outside wall. Devon shouts to them, though I can’t hear what she’s saying. Finn is coughing and trying to keep the ladder steady, a nearly impossible job when it’s so long.

He’s got to get out of there before they’re both overcome with smoke.