Page 11 of The Misfits of Copper County
And on the fucking grill.
Flames erupted instantly, licking up the fabric with terrifying speed.
Delaney yelped and jumped clear. Teeny let out a bark as she did the same.
Still underneath the tarp, I tried to grab it and yank it away from the fire, but it was still attached to the camper at two points, making it hard to maneuver.
Then, a gust of wind blew, inflating the material like a burning parachute. It tore out of my grasp, sailed into the air… and landed directly on the roof of my camper.
“No,” I heard Delaney whisper in horror. “No.”
For a split second, I froze as the fire quickly engulfed the only real home I’d known in years. Then training and instinct kicked in, and I moved into emergency mode.
I grabbed Delaney’s arm and pulled him back to a safe distance. “Stay here,” I ordered, and then I sprinted toward the camper door, Teeny at my heels.
I needed to get my emergency bag, a few of my grandfather’s tools, my grandmother’s treasuredBelles Pivoinesteacups, the box of photos?—
Inside, smoke was already filling the small space, making my eyes burn and water. I grabbed the essentials as quickly as I could, tossing them outside in a pile. My lungs burned, but I pushed forward, pulling open cabinets and drawers, vaguely aware of Delaney still behind the camper, throwing hunks of old, icy snow on the roof like he and the flames were in a one-sided, useless snowball fight.
“Brewer?” I heard him call. “What are you doing?Brewer!”
I went back inside for another armload—this time, mostly dog supplies—and when I emerged, I saw him running toward me, face pale with panic. He caught my arm with a grip that was surprisingly strong for his size.
“Stop, Brewer. You can’t.” He pointed at the roof, which was already blackening. His voice was ragged with what sounded like genuine fear. “You can’t go back in.”
I hesitated, looking back at my home. It was small, but there was still so much of me inside—my music collection, my books, the quilt my grandmother had made.
Delaney was right, though. The roof was starting to buckle, and another minute inside could be dangerous.
I took one last look at the camper… then ran my hands through my hair and turned away, my stomach sick with shock and grief. Delaney was already on his phone, calling for help, his voice cracking as he gave directions to my remote property.
“They’re coming,” he told me when he hung up. “Brewer, I’m so… I didn’t mean…”
I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Teeny pressed against my leg, whimpering softly, and I placed a hand on her head as we watched the flames consume our home.
Beside me, Delaney stood in horrified silence, his earlier anger completely forgotten. I caught him muttering to himself, “OhGod. Ohfuck?—”
Despite everything, a small part of me wanted to reassure him, but I couldn’t find the words. Not yet. Not while watching everything I’d built burn to the ground.
By the time the fire truck arrived, it was too late to save the camper. The firefighters soaked everything down, but what remained was a dripping, charred shell of my home.
“Not safe to walk in there,” one of the firefighters said, confirming what I already knew. “Not much left to salvage anyway. Sorry, Brew.”
I nodded, keeping my face neutral. “Thanks, Gideon.”
Teeny pressed harder against my leg, and I scratched behind her ears absently.
Gideon studied the wreckage. “What a freak accident.” His brow furrowed. “How’d you say that pole came down, again?”
I hesitated but didn’t look at Delaney. “Accident, like you said. Just glad everyone’s safe.”
Gideon nodded slowly, but his gaze shifted to Delaney.
“You look familiar.” He held out a hand. “Gideon Mason.”
“Delaney—” His voice cracked, from the smoke or from emotion, I couldn’t tell. “Delaney Monroe. I’m new in town. Sort of. I’m?—”
Gideon was already nodding. “Tam Monroe’s brother…”
