Page 196 of The Havenport Collection

I pulled the pizza out of the oven and took a big whiff of mediocre sauce and cheese. I’d need to work out twice as hard tomorrow to burn this off, but it would be worth it. I reached for my phone to text Josh, when I smelled something strange.

It was a burning smell. Something acrid and smoky. It wasn’t my oven.

I walked around the kitchen sniffing and out toward the back door.

What was that? Was someone burning tires in their backyard at eleven p.m. on a Tuesday?

I walked out the back door of the house and that’s when I saw it—the flash of flames in the window of the brownstone next to mine.

Shit. Why weren’t the fire alarms going off?

I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1-1 while trying to figure out if anyone was inside.

I knew there had been construction crews next door for the last few weeks, but I didn’t think anyone actually lived there yet.

It had been empty for a few years after the old owner passed away.

I had been going back and forth between my houses and hadn’t really noticed if anyone had moved in.

I ran back to my kitchen and grabbed a fire extinguisher from under the sink. It was small but it would have to do. I said a silent thank you to my mother who always insisted on being prepared for emergencies.

I ran out the back door, my socked feet freezing in the winter slush, and toward the neighboring house. Through the glass I could see the kitchen, flames licking at one wall. I tried the door and it was locked.

I decided to wait for the fire department and was walking back down the stairs when I spotted a woman’s purse on the kitchen counter next to a box of what looked like files. Then I noticed that some of the lights were on, and there were dirty dishes in the sink. Shit. Someone lived here.

Against my better judgment, I took a step back and kicked the door as hard as I could, busting it open enough to reach my hand through and unlatch the deadbolt.

I shouldn’t be in here. I knew that. But I was on autopilot. I needed to help whoever was inside. The fire department was on the way. I just had to get everyone out fast.

I pulled my shirt up over my mouth as I entered the kitchen and immediately began trying to extinguish the flames.

They appeared to be coming from the side wall, so I aimed the fire extinguisher and held on as tightly as I could.

The blast was cold and pushed me back a bit, but I aimed it at where the flames were licking the ceiling.

It worked. Thick white foam blanketed the flames, beating them back enough so I could step through the kitchen.

“Hello,” I yelled. “I can help you. I’m downstairs.”

No response. I rounded a corner and found the rickety stairway. There were some steps missing, and the banister was smashed to pieces. Did someone actually live here? I heard sirens in the distance and debated if I should get out or keep trying to find whomever was in here.

Fuck it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least check. What if there were people or pets inside? I looked around for leashes or food bowls but didn’t see anything.

After doing a quick sweep of the small first floor, I ran upstairs yelling and opened the first door I found. I was not prepared for what I saw—a groggy Nora Rossi, screaming, with a silk eye mask on her head.

“What the fuck?” she yelled, jumping to her feet.

“Fire.”

She stared at me with confusion.

“There is a fire downstairs. Is there anyone else here?”

She shook her head. “Just me.”

“No pets?”

“Nope.”

I grabbed her hand and tried to lead her downstairs.

“Why are you here?” she asked groggily.

“I live next door.”

“No, you don’t. You live in that ostentatious mansion across town.” Of course Nora could find time to insult me in the middle of a crisis.

“Stop fighting me, Nora. We’ve got to get out of here.”

She reached for her phone. “I’ve got to call the fire department.”

“Already did.” I grabbed her phone and tried to lead her down the stairs.

“Wait,” she said, turning around and grabbing a laptop off the bed, along with a framed photo from her nightstand. “Let’s go.”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs as the sirens got closer and closer.

She froze at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the wreckage of her kitchen.

“Nora,” I said, tugging on her hand.

I looked at her and watched as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She let out a sob, and I knew I needed to get her out of there.

So I grabbed her and threw her over my shoulder and went through the front door, just in time to see the firefighters running up the stairs.

“It’s in the kitchen,” I told them, still holding a crying Nora. “There is no one else inside.”

I walked down to the sidewalk and placed Nora down. Her face was stained with tears, and she was clutching her laptop and framed photo to her chest.

“I’m so sorry.”

She nodded, still crying, and I wrapped my arms around her. For once she didn’t fight me, or claw at me, or insult me. Instead, she just let me hold her.

Well, she let me hold her for a few minutes, at least.

“Don’t you dare try to cop a feel, Luke,” she spat at me. I looked down at her, noticing that without her ever-present heels she was so much shorter than I was. She seemed so vulnerable, unlike her usual warrior princess persona.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied.

“Good. Because I am too emotionally exhausted right now to break your fingers.” She sagged into my chest, and I just hugged her tighter as my heart continued to pound in my ears.