Chapter 4

The silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy. Logan was leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"So," I said. "Boston, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Big change from city life."

"That was the point."

His tone didn't exactly invite follow-up questions, but I'd never been great at taking hints.

"What kind of practice are you setting up? Small animals, large animals, both?"

"Both, mostly. There aren't enough vets out here to specialize."

"Makes sense." I gestured toward Main Street. "Everything here is pretty much a little bit of everything. That's Peterson's Hardware over there. Mr. Peterson's been running it for thirty years, and he basically keeps the whole town functioning."

Logan followed my gaze. "Looks like it's been here forever."

"Pretty much. Most of these buildings are from the 1940s. The coffee shop used to be a general store back then." I pointed down the street. "That's the library where Sage is probably making a fool of himself right about now. And that building with the blue awning is River's bar."

"You grew up here?"

"Born and raised. Left when I was seventeen, came back a few weeks ago." I kept my voice casual, like leaving hadn't been the hardest thing I'd ever done.

Logan was quiet for a moment. Then: "Why did you leave?"

The question caught me off guard. Most people in town knew the story, or thought they did. But Logan was an outsider. He wouldn't know about Dad, about the accident, about the way this place had felt like it was suffocating me after the funeral.

"Family stuff," I said finally. "Sometimes you need distance to figure things out."

"And now?"

"Now I'm ready to be home."

We were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk. Mrs. Patterson was walking toward us, loaded down with grocery bags that looked way too heavy for someone her age.

"Mrs. P!" I called out. "Let me help you with those."

I jogged over and took the bags from her before she could protest. They were heavier than they looked, full of canned goods and what felt like several bags of cat food.

"Harper, dear, you don't need to—"

"It's no trouble." I fell into step beside her. "How are Mr. Whiskers and Princess doing?"

"Oh, they're spoiled rotten as usual. Princess has been sleeping in my good chair again, and Mr. Whiskers knocked over my coffee mug this morning." She shook her head, but her smile was fond. "I swear those cats are going to be the death of me."

"You love them and you know it."

"That I do."

We reached her house three blocks down, and I carried the bags up to her front porch.

"Thank you, sweetheart. You're just like your grandmother, you know. Always helping people whether they ask for it or not."

My throat got tight. "Thanks, Mrs. P."

When I walked back to where Logan was waiting, he was watching me with a strange expression.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just..." He shook his head. "That was nice of you."

"She's eighty-three and lives alone. Of course I'm going to help her."

"Not everyone would."

I shrugged. "Maybe not where you come from."

Something shifted in Logan's face. Like he was seeing me for the first time instead of whatever version of me he'd already decided on.

"Harper, I should apologize. Earlier, at the coffee shop, I was—"

The sudden, piercing wail of a siren cut him off. Knox's fire department radio crackled to life from somewhere nearby, the sound carrying clearly in the still night air.

"All units respond, structure fire, 1247 Maple Road. Multiple calls coming in, possible entrapment."

My blood went cold. Maple Road was where the old Murphy farm was. If there were people trapped...

Knox's truck came racing down Main Street, lights flashing. He slammed on the brakes when he saw us.

"Harper!" he called out his window. "I need you to call Sarah, tell her I might be late tonight. This one sounds bad."

His face was grim in the flashing lights. In all the years I'd known Knox, I'd never seen him look scared.

But he looked scared now.

"Get in," Knox yelled. "I'll drop you at the coffee shop so you can organize supplies."

I didn't even think about it. I jumped into Knox's truck, and Logan climbed in after me without being asked. Knox hit the gas before we'd even closed the doors.

"How bad?" I asked, gripping the dashboard as we flew down Main Street.

"Don't know yet. Murphy's barn, maybe the house too. Old Man Murphy and his grandson were supposed to be working late tonight."

My stomach dropped. The Murphy farm had been in their family for generations. And if Tom Murphy and his grandson Jake were trapped...

"What can I do?" Logan asked.

Knox glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You a doctor?"

"Veterinarian."

"Close enough. We might need medical help."

Knox dropped us at the coffee shop and roared off toward Maple Road. I could already see the orange glow in the distance, and the smell of smoke was getting stronger.