Crashing into Fate (Maple Grove #25) - Lynn Hagen Page 0,3

Arlan went to his room. His new home. The next chapter in his life.

He just hoped this one was better than the last.

* * * *

Arlan turned over and glared at the wall when he heard arguing coming from the next room. The blurry digital lights on the clock said it was after three in the morning.

Some people had no respect for others, and all Arlan wanted to do was go back to sleep. He’d already had a rough enough time falling asleep. Arlan never liked being in new places. Still, though, hadn’t he felt that way every morning he’d woken up at Charles’s house?

Chloe had never made his temporary living arrangements easy. She’d never made Arlan feel like part of the family. Now Arlan was on his own, his parents too far away to stay with them.

He needed to stop thinking that way. He needed to stand on his own two feet and stop relying on others.

He jerked upright when the yelling stopped and something slammed against the wall. Had that been a person? Unsure what was going on, Arlan tossed aside his covers, wishing he’d turned the heat on before he’d gone to bed.

There was a chill in the air as his feet touched the floor. Arlan shivered, rubbing his arms while pressing his ear against the wall.

“You should’ve minded your own damn business,” someone said. “You should have never taken that video.”

The voice was low and gruff, as though the person were gargling with a mouth full of rocks.

He heard things knocking over, curses, and then the door opened and closed. Arlan hurried to the window, but all he saw was an outline of a person. The security light was out, making it hard to see anything clearly.

Then Arlan smelled it.

Smoke.

He ran back to his bed and snatched his phone from the nightstand before rushing out of his room. Oh, fuck! It was freezing outside. Arlan did a strange dance, hopping from one foot to the other, trying his best not to let his feet touch the ground.

Which was impossible and made him wish he’d slid his shoes on. Fighting the urge to run back inside and bury himself under his covers, Arlan hurried to the room right next to his and banged on the door. Silence.

He peeked into the window before gasping. The room was a disaster, and he saw a red glow by the dresser. The fire! As he dialed his phone and reported the fire to the dispatcher, he noticed a guy lying on the carpet.

Was that blood? Was the stranger’s head covered in blood? Arlan shoved at the door, but it was locked. He banged and kicked at it, wishing he hadn’t. He was barefoot, and now everything below his knee stung and throbbed.

Since he couldn’t get into the room, Arlan ran to the front office, praying someone was still awake. “I need help!” he shouted as he rushed into the office.

Some guy Arlan didn’t recognize was seated in one of the chairs by the window. He looked up from a book he’d been reading when Arlan barged in.

“What’s wrong?” The guy set his book aside and stood.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. Arlan hesitated, his brain momentarily shutting down as he stared at the most handsome man he’d ever seen.

“Fire,” Arlan managed to say. His brain finally kicked back into gear. “The room next to mine, and I saw someone passed out on the floor.”

The stranger was out the door before Arlan could say anything else. He rushed out, too, following the guy and watched as Mr. Hottie kicked the door in.

Arlan cried out when flames shot out the door, the stranger bracing his arm in front of him as he rushed in.

The sound of the fire truck could be heard in the distance as Arlan banged on doors to alert the other guests.

Arlan wasn’t sure the fire truck would get there in time. The fire had spread pretty fast, and now he feared the stranger would die trying to rescue the unconscious man.

Relief flooded him when Mr. Hottie emerged, coughing, with the other stranger tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He moved far enough away and then lowered the unconscious guy to the ground.

Arlan didn’t like the grim lines around Mr. Hottie’s mouth and eyes.

“Is he going to be okay?” Arlan asked.

Mr. Hottie knelt next to the guy with blood in his hair and checked his pulse. “No, he’s not going to be okay,” the stranger said. “He’s dead.”

Chapter Two

Lewis