“And you came here because…”
“He knows I betrayed him,” he murmurs. His voice is thick with sleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness. “He’ll lash out at me however he can.”
“Right…” My mind turns over the details, trying to make sense of this unexpected turn of events. “But… why would he comehere, of all places? If he was hunting you down, wouldn’t he go to your apartment? Or your boat?”
“Because he knows…” He pauses carefully. His eyes sliver open, staring up at the rafter ceiling. When he speaks, it’s with such quiet conviction, such stalwart purpose, there’s no denying the truth in his words. “I love you, Jo. More than anything. He could trash my apartment, he could sink my boat. I’d recover. But if he ever hurt you, I wouldn’t survive it. If he took you from me…” His arms are so tight around me, I can barely breathe.
I don’t care. I hug him back, just as hard.
“I don’t want to live in a world without you, Josephine Valentine. Even when we weren’t together… the only thing that kept me going was the thought of you out there somewhere, lighting up the room — lighting up the damn world — with your smile.” His chest expands and contracts, a rattling breath. “Even when I’d lost everything else… you were my reason to carry on. To keep breathing. To keep hoping that, someday, things might get better. I meant it when I said you were my dream. My hope. My whole heart.”
For a moment, I can’t say anything at all. A tear drips down my cheek — I watch it pool on his skin. I trail my fingertip through it, tracing the shape of a heart. My voice comes out thick with emotion as I lay my head against his ribcage and close my eyes.
“Archer?”
“Yeah, Jo?”
“I love you too.”
THIRTY-SIX
archer
The smellof smoke wakes me.
My eyes snap open. It takes a few seconds to shake off my confusion; to remember where I am. The naked girl in my arms is a pretty big clue. We’re in our spot in the old stone boathouse, bodies curled together beneath a scratchy wool blanket. I smile at the memory of last night.
The smile flattens as another wave of smoke — astringent and bitter on the wind — hits my nostrils. Something is burning. Something far bigger than a beach bonfire or a backyard BBQ grill. The smell is so strong, for a terrifying heartbeat I think it might be up here with us, in the wooden rafters. When I look out over the water, I see a massive black plume drifting across the cove, noxious and roiling against the pale morning sky.
“Jo,” I murmur, shaking her gently. “Jo!”
Her dark lashes fan across her cheeks, fluttering as she stirs awake. “Archer?”
“Jo, wake up.” I glance around for my clothes. My jeans are slung over a nearby nightstand. My t-shirt is wadded in a ball beside an old toolbox. “We have to get out of here. There’s a fire.”
“A fire?” She sits up, abruptly awake. Her hair falls around her shoulders in messy waves. She holds the blanket against her bare chest, staring at me with worry. “What do you mean, a fire?”
“Don’t you smell that?”
She inhales deeply. I watch her eyes widen. “Oh, god. Wait—listen!”
I pause, jeans frozen halfway up my hips. My ears strain for a moment before I hear it. There’s a dull roar in the air. The searing, steady crackle of a massive flame.
It’s close.
Very close.
Fear grips me as I meet Jo’s eyes. I see the same terror reflected back at me.
“Hurry,” I order, tossing over her pajamas and sweater. “Put these on. We’ll go see what’s happening.”
We dress in haste, then scramble down the ladder as quickly as possible. When we emerge from the boathouse, into the daylight, the sight that greets us is so shocking, we both stop short.
Cormorant House is engulfed in fire.
Flames lick at the windows, dance across the roof shingles. The whole structure is ablaze, from the terrace all the way to the upper turrets. It’s hard to believe a fire could spread so fast, could burn so hot. I’ve never seen anything like it. Even here, halfway down the lawn, it’s hot as a furnace. Heat billows at us, like standing in front of a thousand-degree oven.
“Oh my god,” Jo whispers. “Oh mygod.”