The mug landed with a clank on the table when I saw the yellow sticky note on top of the mail stack. Jeremy’s barely legible print:got this for you
No capitalization. No punctuation. But when did he bring thisin? I must have been out of it on that couch and missed him slipping back inside.
A small household thing. A bit of normalcy.
A frisson of hope rippled through me. I doubted forgiveness could be that quick or that easy, but that was the point of hope. You grasped on to it with desperate, clawing fingers, when you didn’t have anything else left holding you together.
“Jeremy?”
No response. Just the sound of that kitchen clock echoed back at me. A quick peek in his room and nothing but the usual blanket on his bed and the bookshelves littered with high school trophies and those spy novels he loved.
Okay, so he’d come in and out. Nothing had changed but at least nothing seemed worse than it had when I nodded off.
The last of the energy drained from my body. Time for that tea.
On second look, I noticed the trust documents. I’d left them on the table. The front page was flipped up, so he’d read through them. Good. I planned to give them to him to review, hoping the gesture would open a discussion. Hiding the money from him was not an option.
My glance at the mail stack this time was just as brief, but that’s all it took. Third item down. A white envelope. I didn’t have to see the front to know my name would be there in black letters.
Like before, I ripped the top off the envelope and slid the postcard out.
Do not trust her
This terse missive pissed me off more than the others. Whichher? I had a whole mess of potentially untrustworthy women in my life right now.
“Not helpful!” Yeah, no one could hear me, but I didn’t care.
I walked over to the sink, trying to block out the white noise filling my head. The cold water ran over my fingers. I stared out the window into the cloudy night beyond. A smoky film gathered and grew, creating a foamy white wall that blocked out my view of the small garden seating area at the back of the café. A strange reddish-orange reflection.
Then I smelled... What was that? I turned around, scanned the room, looked for an answer. My brain hadn’t fully restarted after the shitty day. It took a second for the pieces to come together.
That sharp scent. The haze.
No, no, no.“Jeremy!” I took off for the door, distracted and flailing. “Fire!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Aubrey
Fire. Fire. Fire.
For the second time in my life, I stood by and watched the orange rage.
The flames. The smell.
The soaring satisfaction.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hanna
I slipped and skidded my way down the outside steps. Grabbing the railing as my socks failed to gain any traction. Ripping my fingernails on the rough wood.
He’s okay.I repeated the mantra over and over in my head as I ran.
The sight of fire shooting into the sky from above the café portion of the property stopped me. Smoke billowed from the side door. A mix of gray and white puffs curled into the air and collected in the trees. Snuffed out the light.
The building had turned into a death trap.
