"Thank you," I breathe.
I hang up and sit on the edge of the bed, trying to slow my racing heart. I know I'm overreacting. I know the fire is not an immediate threat, but logic doesn't matter when the memories are this loud.
All I can think about is Sarah's car disappearing into the smoke. If I close my eyes, I can hear the sirens, and I can feel the chaos of that day, but most of all, I feel the helplessness of not being able to save her.
I can’t go through that again. I won’t.
An hour later, Piper pulls into my driveway with a duffel bag in her trunk and worry etched across her face. I meet her at the door and pull her into a hug before I can stop myself.
"I'm okay," she murmurs against my chest. "We’re okay."
"I know," I say, even though my heart is still pounding. "I just needed you here."
She pulls back and looks up at me, her hands resting on my arms. "Hey. I'm here, I'm safe. We’re both safe."
I nod, trying to believe it. Maddie appears at the top of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. "Piper? Are you staying over?"
"Looks like it, sweetheart," Piper says with a smile.
Maddie squeals and runs down the stairs to hug her, and I watch the two of them together, feeling something settle in my chest. They are both here with me, and they are both safe.
And for now, that’s enough.
Chapter 6
Piper
The guest roomat Dylan's house smells like lavender and clean linen, and the bed is more comfortable than anything I've slept on in months. But I'm not sleeping.
I'm lying awake in the dark, listening to the sounds of the house settling around me. There’s the creak of old wood, the distant hum of the refrigerator. The soft footsteps of someone moving around downstairs.
Dylan.
I check my phone. It's almost two in the morning.
I should stay in bed. I should give him space. Whatever he is dealing with downstairs is his to handle, and I should respect that boundary.
But then I remember the raw fear in his voice when he called me and asked me to come here. The way he held me at the door like he needed to physically confirm I was real and safe.
I throw back the covers and pad downstairs in my pajamas. Dylan's house is small but cozy, filled with photos of Maddie and warm, lived-in furniture that speaks of a life carefully built and fiercely protected.
I find him in the kitchen, standing at the window with a mug of tea in his hands. He is wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, and his hair is rumpled like he has been running his hands through it. The blue glow from his phone screen illuminates his face, and I can see the tension carved into every line.
"Dylan," I say softly.
He turns, startled. "Piper. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
"No," I say, crossing the kitchen to stand beside him. "I couldn’t sleep."
He nods and turns back to the window. Outside, the night is clear, but there is a faint orange glow on the horizon that was not there when I arrived.
"The fire is spreading," he says quietly. "They have not issued an evacuation order yet, but the wind is shifting."
I look at the glow, then at him. His jaw is tight, his shoulders are rigid, and his breathing is just slightly too fast.
"Hey," I say gently, touching his arm. "Look at me."
He does, and the fear in his eyes nearly breaks me.
