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My shoulders slump as we descend the stairs, the adrenaline of the past twenty minutes petering out.

“Here, eat this.” I stop mid-step and look at the mini pack of Skittles Bostic shoves at me. “You need the sugar.” I must still look skeptical because he adds, “It’ll help with the post-adrenaline crash.”

Oh. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.” I flash him a tired smile. “Are you waiting until the police come for me?”

He arches a brow. “What would the police want with you?”

“Because I lit the apartment on fire?” I suggest. I’d be a terrible criminal.

His lips twitch as if he’s holding back a smile. “It was a candle accident. Last I heard, accidents aren’t associated with jail time. ”

He pulls us down the sidewalk and motions for me to sit on the step of the firetruck.

“Do you have a Dalmatian in the cab?” I ask. I could go for some puppy love right now.

Bostic chuckles. “No. No dog on this rig.”

“That’s a shame,” I mutter. “Everyone needs a dog.” And a sea lion. But I don’t add that comment. Bostic already thinks I’m crazy.

The sigh that leaves Bostic’s chest is deep and heavy. “You want to tell me what happened in there?”

Not really. “I think I’ll take those Skittles now.” I could use the comfort food.

He hands them over, and I waste no time ripping into the bag and throwing back a few of the sugary pieces.

“Was that your boyfriend?” He prompts again.

I swallow and meet his warm and friendly brown eyes. He looks concerned. Not like he’s trying to weasel a confession out of me. It’s probably safe to answer him with the truth. I can’t possibly screw tonight up any more than I already have. “Yeah.”

“He cheat on you?” Bostic is a good man, I can tell.

I mean, I used to be able to tell. I thought Tucker was a good man too.

Look how that turned out. But Bostic seems different, and if I were into older men in their forties with a healthy obsession with dumbbells, I probably would turn on my charm and dial back the crazy, but I don’t do rebounds or men who could be my daddy.

Plus, I’m reasonably sure I have this man concerned for my mental well-being.

“Yeah.” I throw back a few more Skittles until the bag is empty and crinkle it between my fingers.

Too bad it was snack size. “All I wanted to do is take a bath and play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. I didn’t plan on causing a scene, but he was there, and neither of them looked the slightest bit remorseful when I walked in. I just reacted.”

I shrug like my reaction was uncontrollable. It was. I’m not making excuses for endangering lives. I’m merely saying I didn’t think at the time—being blinded by rage or whatever you want to call it. The fact is: Tucker and Taylor made a stupid decision tonight. And now, so have I.

Bostic nods, his jaw twitching as he glares at the third floor where his coworkers are probably filling out paperwork.

“I’m sorry you guys had to come out this late in the evening. I’m sure it’s dinner time at the station, huh?” I’ve watched 911 . I know the firemen have big meals and big screen TVs and twenty-four-hour shifts. The last thing they want to do on a Tuesday night is to break up a ridiculous catfight.

“It’s our job,” he gruffs out.

“I know, but you should be saving lives in like forest fires and such. Not putting out a small candle fire.” I downplay the flames just in case he’s reconsidering turning me over to the cops.

A low noise rumbles out of Bostic’s massive chest before he opens his mouth—probably to correct me on the size of the fire—but his crew descends the stairs and cuts him off.

I stand. “Thank you for the Skittles, and you know”—I wave to the third floor—“saving lives. There’s probably a few you saved from shooting straight to hell.” I grin. “I’m joking. Kind of.”

The big man stands and tilts his head down to look at me. “You have somewhere to stay tonight?”

Right. Because I’m homeless now.

I swallow and manage a smile. “Yeah. I have some friends I can call.” It’s a complete and utter lie, but I can tell Bostic is a fixer, and well, I did this to myself. No one made me go crazy and set my apartment on fire, even if it was warranted.

“Are you sure?”

I don’t want to lie to this man. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

One of the other firemen claps Bostic on the back. “Ready to go?”

He doesn’t move—only stares at me like he can somehow extract the truth with his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, big guy.” I encourage when his buddies start loading up .

He sighs. “I’m at Station 764 if you need anything.”

He really is a nice man. I check his hand for a ring. Bare. Good, my mom could use a good man in her life. We both could, but she’s been single longer, so she gets dibs.

“Thank you. I appreciate everything.” I mean it. Bostic could have made my night a lot worse, and he didn’t. He’s a rare find.

The big man frowns but tips his chin in resignation, and I reassure him, once again, with a smile.

I can handle myself. Granted, I’ve never been homeless, but how hard could it be?

I have a car. It’s not too hot out. And I have about ten hoodies in my backseat that will make the perfect pillow.

Then, in the morning, I will find another roommate—easy-freaking-peasy.

It’ll be like camping all those years ago with Mom.

I wave at the firetruck as it pulls out of the complex. Everything has returned to normal, at least here in the parking lot. I don’t know about inside the building because I’m banned.

Who needs an apartment anyway?

Or a roommate?

Certainly not me. I’d rather have my morals than to room with more liars.

Unzipping my purse, I dig out my car keys and head toward my parking space.

The 2005 sedan that awaits me is dirty with a small ding in the bumper where I bumped into a gas station pole, but it’s mine, and it’s free of cheating scumbags and lying roommates, so I call that a win and home for possibly the rest of the semester.

I open the back door and get in, locking the doors behind me.

Frank said he was kicking me out of my apartment.

Not out of the parking lot. Surely, he won’t bother checking to see if I’ve vacated the premises.

Frank’s lazy and considering he was already in his bathrobe, I imagine he’s two beers from beddy-bye-time.

My phone buzzes—it’s a text from my mom.

I hope you had a great day! Call me in the morning. Love you!

She thinks I’m still at work, and that’s okay. We’ll let her believe that. I don’t want to talk to her right now anyway. If I do, I’m sure I’ll cry at the sound of her voice. Through this whole disaster of a night, I’ve yet to let one single tear fall, and I typically cry when I’m mad.

I’m a passionate person, and therefore tears come a little more frequently for me than others. But that’s to be expected, right? Or maybe it’s my birth control because sometimes that shit fucks me up, and I feel like a raging psycho. But not today. Today was a good day.

I boot up the Who Wants to be a Millionaire app and choose my city.

I’ll take on London and Sasha, the other online player.

Games have always been my source of comfort.

I guess when you’re an only child, you learn to entertain yourself.

My grandmother used to love watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on TV and she got me addicted.

So you can imagine when the app came out, I was freaking ecstatic.

I am determined to become a virtual millionaire.

I’m smart and well-versed in trivia. Well, I’m not too bright. Clearly.

But I had thought Tucker was different. Yes, I know.

Let the shit go. But the betrayal is still raw.

It’s not that I had a whole lot of boyfriends in my lifetime.

Admittedly, Tucker has been my only one.

We met in high school, and it was love at first sight for me.

He was the smartest kid in our entire class.

Not only that, but he was also tall, much taller than me, which was something since I always felt like a giant with my five-foot-ten frame.

I wasn’t the tallest girl in our freshman class, but I might as well have been.

Most of the guys hadn’t reached my height by ninth grade and therefore shunned anything to do with me.

I got it. I made them look short. But not Tucker.

Tucker was a beast, even though it seemed as if he stopped growing right around junior year.

His height was one of the things that made him perfect for me. He was also fun and confident.

So I held on for the ride through high school, following him to Havemeyer, where he received a scholarship for pre-med. A school where I didn’t receive an award. But we couldn’t be apart—we were soul mates.

Wetness smears my phone screen and makes the trivia question unreadable. I watch as the countdown dwindles to zero, claiming Sasha as the winner by default. But I can’t make myself care. The tears have finally come.

Tucker is gone.

My first kiss.

My first love.

Gone.

How long had he and Taylor been sleeping together? Was it just physical or—I gag—are they in love?

They can’t be.

Tucker and I are destined to be together.

And Taylor, well, she’s . . . I’m not going to stoop that low and take a dig at her just because I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m better than that. At least I think I’m better than that. But I guess Tucker sees something in her that he didn’t see in me.

I blink through the watery tears, the lights still on in my former apartment where Tucker is probably showering the soot off Taylor, using my body wash.

A sob catches in my throat.

How did this happen? How did I become this girl?

I can remember all these big dreams I had growing up. I wanted to save the sea lions. Save the otters and whales. Discover a cure for dementia. I wanted to be the best family counselor this state had ever seen.

Granted, I’m working on the counseling degree, but the rest of it . . . those poor sea animals? I gave up that dream and scholarship when Tucker was accepted to Havemeyer. Although Havemeyer has a marine biology program, it has a waiting list longer than Tucker’s lies.

Counseling is still a good career, though, and the odds of making it in marine biology are slim to none. I needed to be realistic. I couldn’t travel from coast to coast if Tucker had a staff position at the hospital. I would have never seen him, much less been able to have a family .

I tear my eyes away from the window when the lights to my old apartment go off. They’re going to bed. Tucker and Taylor are snuggling down in her room, consoling each other from my madness.

Pfft. Who am I kidding? Knowing Tucker and his need for a release before bed, I’m positive they are celebrating their newfound freedom of not having to hide their affair anymore.

His chain has been cut free.

I turn off my phone and tuck it into my side like it’s Lawrence, my poor stuffed sea lion that I left in the apartment, and close my eyes.

In the morning, things will be different.

In the morning, I’ll go back to Lawrence.

In the morning, it’ll be a new beginning.