Page 107 of Unbreakable Thread

The fire trucks are heard from a distance.

“They’re coming,” the woman says. I don’t remember her name, but she goes for coffee regularly.

I can’t breathe, and tears fill my vision. I worked so hard for this place. Isabella drives to the parking space where I parked. The worry in my chest loosens when I see her. She runs to me.

“Mija. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I don’t know.” My voice trembles.

The neighbor talks to Isabella.

The firefighter puts the fire out while I pull out my phone and call the only person who can ease my heart. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, baby.”

“M…Max.” My voice comes out in stutters. “My café is on fire.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?” I can hear the door shut or open.

“Outside. I’m outside. I’m okay. I had just driven up when I saw the fire.”

“I’m on my way.”

“No, you don’t have to, you’re bu⁠—”

“I’m already getting in my truck.” The door slams. “You’re my priority.”

I sniffle. “O…okay.”

“Are the firemen there?”

“Yes.”

“I’m almost there, amor.”

I stand on the sidewalk with the phone against my ear, hearing Max’s rapid breathing while he maneuvers the streets to get to me. The smoke rolls out of the back of everything I’d built, and I try to think clearly.

“Okay,” I whisper into the phone on my ear.

Who would do this? The answer sits in my chest before the question finishes forming. I push it away.

“The fireman said it could have been an electrical wire, but they are not sure yet until they do an investigation,” Isabella says, walking toward me.

“Okay.” My voice is soft.

I couldn’t say it out loud. Not in front of Isabella. I could put her in danger. And Max is on the line. But the thought keeps coming back. I knew who had the address. I knew who had been at my house four days ago with threats still wet on his lips. I knew who had threatened my baby. I knew who had threatened Leo. He wanted to get rid of me or threaten to shut me up.

Isabella’s eyes are wide, and the firefighters are moving through the back of my café, and neighbors are gathering on the sidewalk. My mind is racing, keeping pace with my heart.

He thought I was in there. What will he do next?

That thought arrives quietly and stays. Max’s truck comes around the corner twelve minutes later. He parks a distance away, pointing at me, and the police let him through. He crosses the distance between us in four strides, and then his hands are on my face, and his eyes are doing that thing—scanning, assessing, checking every inch of me. “Are you hurt?” He kisses my lips. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“I’m fine. We’re fine.”

He pulls me onto his chest, and I can’t hold it in. I cry. My arms wrap around his body, and he holds me tight. “I’m here. I got you,” he says, his voice low. “You’re safe.”

A firefighter and a police officer approach and start asking questions. I answer what I can, and Max fills in the rest. Max rubs my back as he converses with the police. Chills run up my spine at the thought I could have been in there if I had gotten in on time.

“If I hadn’t been late…I.”