Paige stands there with the army green tarp wrapped around her. She looks extra pale beneath the heavy plastic and the streaks of mud, like some kind of fairy who fell down to earth. I’ve seen her with a hundred different expressions—playful and angry and curious. She stares at the house with a haunted resignation. This was how she looked when she found out her parents died. I wasn’t there, but I already know. This is soul-deep grief.

No. I won’t let her grow up without family. I won’t let Beau die, not on my watch. I’m the expendable one here. Not him.

I kneel down in front of her. “Wait here, understand? Right by this tree. Don’t go anywhere.” I want to tell her not to go anywhere except with me or with Uncle Beau, but the truth is she may not see either of us again. Don’t think like that. “Wait for the people in uniforms. They’re going to come in a big fire truck with lights and sirens.”

She gives me a solemn nod.

That’s all I need to turn around and rush into the house. Smoke hits me like a wall. It makes me stagger back. It’s so thick that the air is heavy and solid as I try to push through.

I’m disoriented. Dizzy. I barely know which way leads deeper into the house and which takes me outside again. It’s like a maze without walls. I could become lost in here, never finding Beau, never finding anything. There’s a shout, and I turn to the left.

The sitting room. It’s where we had drinks before the dinner party. Where Beau licked me after. Now it’s a disaster, the lush leather furniture covered in debris.

Beau’s trapped under a massive beam that looks twelve inches wide and twelve inches deep. It spans almost the entire room. It looks almost strong enough to hold up the second floor. At least it did before it fell down. He’s shouting something to me, but I can’t hear.

I make my way over, tripping a few times, burning myself on hot metal.

Everything is a blur, made hazy from tears in my eyes.

He shoves something small and warm in my hands. I’m taken back in time to when I first met him outside. The lights from his vehicle blinded me. The rain and mud made the world topsy turvy. He handed me a kitten back then and he hands me one now.

I hold her under one arm and pull with the other. It’s useless. If he couldn’t lift the beam himself, there’s no way I can do it—and especially not one-handed.

Indecision. Uncertainty. It paralyzes me. “Go,” he shouts. I can’t hear him over the blaze, or maybe that’s only my fear, but I can read his lips.