Page 95 of Hearts on the Line

Ethan

We sold out of the special. For the first time in years, we had to close up early. I don’t know if it was a combination of the viral video some influencer made of the lobster cacio e pepe or if the puck bunnies heard Jack was around and wanted to catch a glimpse.

It might not be enough to save everything, but it’s a start. Might buy us another month or two.

Best day in years, and one of the worst of my life.

I can’t fucking sleep. The bed’s too empty, and I can still smell her on my sheets. Wally’s been lying by the door, waiting for her.

I shuffle to the kitchen and grab a glass of water. There’s a row of seashells and sea glass she’s left behind on the kitchen windowsill. A bra is still hooked over the shower curtain, like she’s coming back for it.

I hate every small reminder of her. I hate the lack of her more.

She was so fucking strong this afternoon to confront her mom. I watched her do the thing she’d been terrified to do for years. Her fingernails cut into the top of my hand, as though she was hanging on as the world collapsed around us.

It felt that way.

Still does.

I’m finally about to doze off when the smell hits—faint.

Smoke.

My eyes pop open. The fire alarm blinks red overhead, silent. I can’t remember the last time I replaced the batteries.

Wally is already at the door, barking.

“What is it, bud?” I peek outside, not noticing anything weird with the buildings across the street.

Maybe someone is having a bonfire on the beach.

Then I hear a loud snap downstairs, and the blood drains from my face.

I grab my phone, call Wally to me, and race downstairs. I stop short as smoke rolls across the kitchen floor.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Pushing my way inside, I cover my nose with my T-shirt, and grab the extinguisher beneath the kitchen sink. The damn sprinklers aren’t working like they should. I search through the smoke, trying to pinpoint the source of the fire.

I trip over a cord, and my phone slips under the stove.

Shit.

Flames suddenly burst from beside the walk-in refrigerator. I grab the extinguisher, but it’s too late. There’s a crash out front, and the fire is already spreading, too fast. I need to get out, but I get turned around and can’t see through the thick smoke. Everything looks the same. I can’t tell where the door is.

Sloane. I need to get to the dining room. Need to get out.

“Help!”

I drop down to my knees as a window pops. Flames burst upward, racing along the wall and blocking my way out.

Chapter 31

Sloane

Merritt’s Catch Lobster Co. is burning.

It’s three in the morning when my phone rings. The fire department, then the police, then Michael.