“I can go home,” he eventually said. “If that’s what you want.”

Her arms instinctively tightened on him. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t lonely either, or under the influence. She just wanted him to stay. An entirely new and not entirely unwelcome feeling. “I want you to stay,” she said, and pressed closer.

Joe woke up with the sun fully risen, the smell of smoke stinging his nostrils and burning his lungs. He sat straight up, the remnants of an old nightmare claiming his senses.

He was alone in Summer’s bed, surrounded by thick, clinging, choking smoke, so dark he couldn’t see past his own nose. “Summer!”

He heard nothing but the ominous sound of flames fueling themselves up, crackling, growing in strength.

Diving out of the bed, he hit the floor, sparing a moment to writhe in agony because he’d forgotten about his foot. As the pain sang up his leg, stabbing into his brain, he lay low trying to get air for his already taxed lungs. “Summer!” he yelled again.

Still nothing but the popping of the flames. He crawled around the foot of the bed and saw the fire had overtaken the hallway and was biting at the bedroom door. He whipped around, back toward the bed, crawling over a shoe, which jabbed into his knee, reminding him that he was naked. Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he wrestled them on and then headed for the window. Up on his knees, he tried to push open the glass but the heat had stressed the wood, and it wouldn’t budge. Whipping around he snatched the blanket off the bed, wrapped his arm in it and punched the window. The fire was so loud behind him as it ate its way into the bedroom, he couldn’t even hear the tinkle of the glass as it fell to the ground outside.

He climbed out of the window and stood barefoot in the planter, surrounded by jagged glass and a burning cottage. “Summer!”

In the early morning light, fire trucks came careening up the street, lights and sirens flashing. Fast as he could, heart in his throat, Joe limped around to the front door. It was engulfed in flames, so he kept going, hopping on his one good foot until he got to the back door. He had to find Summer, but just as he reached for the handle, the door blew out, and he flew backward, knocked flat on his ass by pieces of glass and wood.

Before he could get to his hands and knees, there were three firemen there, holding him back. “She’s still in there!” he yelled. His head was spinning, and something trickled down his temple. “I don’t think she got out!”

“Joe!”