“When I turned nine, Jewel, one of the girls, had given me a Swiss Army knife. I loved that thing. Was always looking for ways to use it. I figured out how to remove the screw Flo had driven horizontally through the track that stopped the window from sliding open. Even with the safety screw removed, an adult would have had a hard time getting in or out. But I was a kid, so it was different. I had practice. At night, sometimes, I’d sneak out the window. It was a tight squeeze. Had to turn my head and body sideways. The first night I’d tried sneaking out, I landed on my face, got a bloody nose. But after a while I got it down pat. Over the next year, the ridges wore down. I didn’t have to use my screwdriver anymore. Could lift the screw right out with my fingers. Tucked it in my pocket, replaced it in the window frame when I got back inside. So that’s how I got out. Wasn’t thinking. Just ripped out that screw, yanked open the window, tumbled out, choking, eyes burning from the thick smoke.”

“And then what?”

“I ran.” Acid guilt ate the lining of his stomach as he spoke. “I should have stayed. Got people out, but I didn’t think of it at the time. Was so scared. I tumbled out that window, hit the ground, screaming ‘Fire! Fire!’ at the top of my lungs while my legs were running faster and faster. I ran and I ran, yelling ‘Fire! Fire!’ Didn’t stop until I reached my rock. Looked back and the whole ranch was in flames. Didn’t hear any screaming anymore. Just the roar of the flames shooting higher and higher into the night sky.”

Sarah had her arms wrapped around his waist. Holding him tight, as if he were still that little boy and she was keeping him safe.

“Your rock?” she said. Her voice was slightly muffled, her face burrowed against his chest.

Mick exhaled shakily. Dragged the back of his wrist across his damp eyes. “I had a rock.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled again. “It was my safe place. My secret.”

“Tell me more.”