Chapter 3
Chapter Three
"I can stay with Maggie," Sabrina said.
Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
She stood near the open door of Colby's truck, arms folded tightly against her chest, the last of the fire crews clearing out behind them.
Engines rolled away one by one, their headlights sweeping over the wreckage before turning toward town, leaving trails of red taillights in the growing dusk.
Colby stood a few feet from her, sweatshirt unzipped. Soot still darkened the creases around his eyes, and exhaustion had settled into the set of his shoulders, but his gaze on her remained sharp. "You sure about that?"
"She offered before," Sabrina said. "She told me once, if I ever needed a place, I should call. No questions asked."
"Then call."
She dug into the pocket of the sweatpants they had given her—pale blue, too thin, smelling faintly of industrial detergent—and pulled out her phone.
There was a hairline crack running across the screen she didn't remember getting.
She focused on the familiar act of finding Maggie's number and pressed the call icon.
It rang three times.
"Mags, hey," Sabrina said when her friend answered. "It's me."
"Sabi." Maggie's voice came through thick with relief, and something frazzled underneath. "Oh, thank God. Are you alright? I've been slammed all day with folks coming down to rubberneck at the mess, but I've been watching out the window every chance I get. I'm so sorry I didn't get over there."
"I'm okay." Sabrina closed her eyes briefly, letting the familiar cadence of her friend's voice wash over her. "I mean, I'm out. The hospital cleared me. A little smoky, a little wobbly, but standing."
Maggie blew out a breath into the phone. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe... is it really gone? All of it?"
"Yeah." She forced the word out past the tightness in her throat. "Listen, I wouldn't be asking if I had another option, but... can I crash with you for a few days? Just until I figure out what comes next?"
The pause on the other end stretched longer than it should have.
"I'm so sorry, Sabi," Maggie said, regret heavy in every syllable.
"The twins both came down with that stomach bug that's been going around.
Jamie's sleeping on the couch, so they don't share a room and pass it back and forth.
Kyle's in the recliner because he pulled a double shift at the plant and needed to be near the kids in case they called for him.
There isn't an inch of couch or floor left in this house that doesn't have a bucket next to it. "
Sabrina swallowed. "Oh."
"If it was just me, I'd make it work," Maggie rushed on, words tumbling over each other.
"You know I would. I'd sleep standing up in the closet if it meant you had a bed.
But I don't want you catching this on top of everything else you're dealing with.
And there literally isn't space. Not even bad space. "
Sabrina's grip tightened on the phone until the cracked screen bit into her palm. "No, I get it. Of course. You've got your hands full."
"I'm so sorry. If I can kick my husband out to the garage in a day or two, I will, but tonight..."
"It's okay," Sabrina said quickly, before the guilt in Maggie's voice could get any thicker. "Really. Take care of them. That's what matters."
Maggie's voice softened. "What are you going to do?"
"I'll manage."
She felt Colby's gaze on her when she said it, steady and assessing.
"I can call around," Maggie added. "See if anyone in my book club has a spare room. Linda's kids are grown, and she's got that finished basement—"
"Don't worry about it. You've got sick kids who need their mom." Sabrina forced a lighter tone into her voice, the one she used with difficult guests. "Go be Super Mom. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Call me if you need anything. I mean it, Sabi. Anything at all."
"I know." She ended the call and stared down at the dark screen for a second longer than necessary, watching her own reflection in the cracked glass.
"No luck," Colby said quietly. Not a question.
"Maggie's house is full." Sabrina slipped the phone back into her pocket. "Half the town has a stomach bug, apparently."
He tipped his chin slightly. "Any other friends you could try?"
She thought about it. Thought about the couple she knew from the chamber of commerce meetings, another inn owner who lived forty minutes out of town, and a few people she saw regularly at Lila's café for coffee and small talk.
Faces she recognized. Names she knew. Acquaintances, not the kind of people you called at midnight and asked for a bed.
"They've all got families. Or tiny houses. Or both," she said. "It's fine. I'll figure something out."
"Like what?"
"Maybe the Copper Moon Hotel has an opening." She tried to make it sound casual, like she hadn't already considered and dismissed that option three times.
"It doesn't."
She frowned. "How do you know?"
"Because I spoke to the owner this morning. He came down here to see what had happened to the competition." A faint edge of distaste colored the word. "I asked him if he had a room available in case you needed it. He's booked solid through next weekend."
She processed that—the fact that he'd thought to ask, that he'd been planning ahead while she was still trying to remember how to breathe. "I'll manage."
"There it is again," he said.
"What?"
"'I'll manage.'"
"It's true."
He watched her for a long beat, something working behind his eyes. "It sounds like you're saying, 'I don't know what to do, but I'd rather bite my own arm off than admit it.'"
A thin, unwilling huff escaped her. "You're very sure of yourself."
"I'm very familiar with stubborn."
She bristled, shoulders drawing back. "You think I'm being stubborn?"
"I think you just watched your entire life burn down and your first instinct is still to tell everyone you're fine." His tone stayed mild, not accusing, but the words landed anyway. "That's a kind of stubborn."
She looked away, jaw tight, and fixed her gaze on the smoldering pile that used to be her home.
Footsteps approached on the gravel, quick and purposeful. A familiar voice called out, "Sabrina?"
She turned.
Bree crossed the taped-off area from the parking lot, her blond hair pulled back in a messy knot that was coming loose on one side, and a paint-stained sweatshirt hanging loosely over black leggings.
Concern sharpened her hazel-green eyes as she took in Sabrina's face—the pallor, the shadows, the careful way she was holding herself together.
She stopped short for just a moment, then closed the distance and wrapped her in a careful hug.
"Oh, sweetheart," Bree said against her hair. "I'm so sorry."
Sabrina held on for a second, breathing in the familiar scent of turpentine and the lavender lotion Bree always used after washing paint off her hands. Then she eased back. "How did you—"
"Hank called Diaz when he saw the smoke from the marina," Bree said.
"Diaz called me after they got you out, told me you were okay but shaken up.
I should've been here sooner, but we had to close up the gallery, and Brian was out on an errand and.
.." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter.
I'm here now." She glanced at the ruins and swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly.
"I can't believe it. All those beautiful rooms. All that history. "
Sabrina followed her gaze to the jagged silhouette against the darkening sky. "Join the club."
Bree looked back at her, studying her face with the careful attention of an artist cataloging details. "Where are you staying tonight?"
Sabrina opened her mouth. Closed it again. "I haven't... decided."
"She tried Maggie," Colby said. "No room at the inn."
Bree shot him a brief look that said they would unpack that particular joke later, then focused on Sabrina again. "Come to the farmhouse. We've got the guest room all set up—fresh sheets, the good towels. You can stay as long as you need."
Sabrina shook her head almost before she heard the end of the sentence. "I can't intrude on you two."
"It's not intruding," Bree said firmly. "It's you being safe. And inside. And not alone."
"You just got married." Sabrina forced a weak smile that felt more like a grimace. "You don't need me camped out in your guest room, crying all night and using all your hot water."
Bree's mouth pressed flat. "You're allowed to fall apart in my house."
"I know." Sabrina's throat tightened, pressure building behind her eyes. "That's the problem."
Bree blinked. "What?"
"If I come to your place, you'll sit with me and hand me tea and look at me with those big pitying eyes, and I will actually come apart.
Completely. All the way." Sabrina glanced toward the ruins, then back to her friend.
"And once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop.
Right now, I need to hold it together enough to figure out what to do next. I need to be able to think."
Bree's eyes shone in the fading light. "It's not pity."
"I know." Sabrina reached out and squeezed her forearm, feeling the delicate bones beneath the oversized sleeve. "It's love. That's worse."
Bree let out a breath that sounded half laugh, half sob. "You are allowed to be loved, you know. It's not a character flaw."
Sabrina didn't answer that. She looked down at the gravel, then up at Colby.
He watched her, steady and quiet, that same subtle focus he'd had at the hospital and the fire line. No pity in his expression. No flinching. Only assessment, like he was working through a problem and had nearly landed on an answer he was willing to share.
He shifted his hat to his other hand. "Bree's right about one thing," he said. "You shouldn't be alone tonight."
"I'll manage," Sabrina said again, softer now, the words losing conviction even as she spoke them.
Colby tilted his head. "You keep using that word like it's a plan."