31
Baptiste
After my dinner with Helen, I press my foot on the gas pedal and fly to the nearest convenience store. Once inside, I buy their entire stock of Salted Caramel Twix bars to make a basket for Harper. It seems like an appropriate thank-you gift for the woman who helped me find my way back to my biological mother. And a good first step toward repairing our relationship that I ended prematurely.
As I get out of the store, a balmy warmth envelops me. The heat hasn’t broken yet, even this late in the day. I’m halfway back to my car when my phone rings, but it’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice croaks from the other line, “Baptiste, it’s Glenda. Harper’s grandmother. Your friend James gave me your number.”
My breath catches, a sharp chill prickling down my spine. “Glenda, hi. Is everything okay?”
“I’m worried about Harper,” she says, her voice tight with unease. “I haven’t heard from her today yet, and she always calls before they put us to bed here.”
I glance at my watch. It’s already 9 p.m.
“And with that psycho running loose,” she continues, her voice lowering, “I have a bad feeling.”
My grip tightens around the bag. “I’ll check on her,” I finally say. “I’m actually on my way to her place now.”
“Took you long enough,” she snaps. “I already lost forty bucks because of you.”
“Wait, you bet on this?” I sputter despite myself as I unlock my car and plop down behind the wheel.
“Hold your horses,” she says. “I know what I’m doing. Now, go get your girl, and don’t mess this up, okay?”
I chuckle, the tension in my chest easing, if only a bit. “What are the odds? In my favor?”
“Seventy–thirty,” she says dryly. “Against you.”
I roll my eyes. “Great.”
“Don’t lose me any more money, kid, you got that?”
A smile spreads on my lips, and my heart lifts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Had to take a few risks, didn’t I? Anyway, have her text me as soon as possible.”
“I will.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Thanks, Glenda.”
I hang up and sit there for a second, keys still dangling from my fingers. If I felt light when entering the store, now I feel like I might float away. I knew Glenda kind of liked me, but she actuallybelievesin me. In my relationship with Harper.
Harper…
My smile falters. She’s got to be okay. She’s probably just absorbed by work, or she fell asleep on the couch. Maybe her phone died. I’m sure there’s an explanation. Nothing bad can have happened to her, because if it has, I’ll never forgive myself. The thought claws at my chest, irrational and relentless, and I shake my head to dislodge it.
Starting the car, I pull into traffic, my palms sweating on the steering wheel. I push the speed limit, ignoring the way the city blurs at the edges of my vision. Every second stretches, but I keep pushing. I’m eager to see her. Eager to have her in my arms. To make sure she’s okay.
But as I approach her neighborhood, heavy smoke billows in the distance, and my world tilts.
My heart hammers, slamming so hard against my ribcage, it drowns out the sound of the engine, of the city, of my own thoughts. My hands go numb on the wheel. No, no, no, no—
I don’t even bother parking. I just stop in the middle of the street, scramble out the door, and run toward the building that’s on fire. Harper’s building.
Flames lick up the side of the structure, orange and violent against the night sky. Thick smoke rolls out of shattered windows in choking waves. Sirens wail somewhere nearby, the tones overlapping, distorted. I fight through the sea of victims and spectators crowding the sidewalks—some coughing, some crying, some shouting names into the dark, others holding up their phones to film, frozen in place. Someone stumbles past me, soot streaked across their face. Another screams for a pet. Someone else is being guided away by a firefighter, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders.
Amid the chaos, the acrid sting of smoke mixes with the overbearing heat, burning my throat as I push through the haze. I can barely see anything, my eyes already watering, lungs screaming with every inhale. As I shove past bodies, voices muffle into static, panic clawing up my spine, and then—
