“I know!” she snaps, turning to face the side window. It’s as though she can’t bear the thought of looking out the same window as me. Or bringing harm on her father. “I get where you’re coming from. But there has to be a way we can get everyone out of this mess.”
“It’s impossible to save everyone.”
That gets her head steering back toward me.
“I know the trust is gone for you, but if there’s one thing you’re still gonna trust me on, let it be this—you can’t rescue everyone. It’s not a case of being strong, physically and mentally. You can be the smartest, strongest person in the world and still fail.”
“How endearing.” Her voice is tiny but her eyes are shrewd, watching mine like she’s seeing straight through me. “That’s what made you want to become a firefighter in the first place, isn’t it? You faced loss and wanted to make up for it by saving others.” Her gaze deepens. “Except it never quite filled the void…”
My fingers are about to wreck this steering wheel in a minute. I turn the corner back onto Main Street and rush through two sets of lights before they flicker red.
“My father was an ass to me my entire life, I’m well aware,” Piper continues. “But he’s my father—the only parent I ever had. I can stomach him leaving the state, never wanting to reach out, but him being dead is a completely different ballpark.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, turning onto my street. Once parked, I pop open the door and get the passenger door for Piper.
Her eyes are a beautiful blue color in the sun, as she looks up to meet my gaze. This time I feel like she’s penetrating my soul, which feels even more vulnerable than it did in the truck.
“Who did you lose?” she asks.
“Family.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is a whisper but her eyes are just as loud as before.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago and the fire was an accident. I made the decision to save myself over them. I heard my motherscream and I still didn’t think to—” I cut myself off. This is more than she needs to know.
“You had no time to think. Your house was burning down. It’s all instinct.”
“Exactly.” I point a finger at her. “And my instinct was to save myself over the family that would’ve saved me over themselves, if given the chance.” I rip my gaze from Piper and step onto the lawn.
She shuts the door and skirts behind me, saying nothing. The silence continues in the kitchen as we’re preparing lunch. I butter sandwiches and she prepares the coffee. We sit at the table, eating and drinking what we don’t really have any appetite for.
“Shit!” Piper shouts after staring into her coffee for a worrying amount of time. “Acetone.”
“What about it?”
“Nail polish remover. The cap. I remember it now. It wasn’t fully screwed on.”
I perk up in my seat. “You think…?”
“My kitchen worktops were always cluttered—my fault, nobody else’s. But when the hire broke in the day before, he could’ve knocked it over and spilled it. The bottle was sitting on the edge of a pile of documents.”
“Acetone is highly flammable.” I take a sip of coffee. “Did you not smell anything?”
“All I could smell was bleach in the sink. It was overpowering everything else.”
Relief fills my chest. “Hart—it wasn’t you that set your house on fire. It was the spilled acetone. That’s what caused the explosion.”
There was always that stubborn feeling in my gut, telling me she didn’t do it, couldn’t cause that much damage. I knew something wasn’t adding up.
Piper abandons the coffee and takes off. “We have to tell Taylor.”
22
CALEB
CallingJames Taylor over feels counterintuitive. I’d rather not have that bastard invading my personal space if I can help it. But if there’s a chance we can have this mess all wrapped up by this afternoon before the kids finish school, I’m taking that chance.
Piper drums her fingers on the table. The silence feels dividing, especially after I told her about my family home and everything.
