Though it was only three or four blocks back to Adam’s place, it took the better part of half an hour, relying on the back alleys and the dark to cover his retreat, hoping that the ambulance drivers and firefighters wouldn’t catch him here. Having to lug Kurt made him especially suspect, and he didn’t have a single good explanation for being caught toting around an unconscious punk in the dead of night.
“Come on, Brent,” Adam said. “Let’s get home and put this one to bed and you and me have a nice chat.”
“You don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
Kurt startled at this and his head lolled back, one eye opened a crack.
“No,” Alan said. “No ambulances. No cops. No firemen. Just me and him. I’ll make him better,” he said.
The smoke smell was terrible and pervaded everything, no matter which direction the wind blew from.
Adam was nearly home when he realized that his place and his lover and everything he cared about in the entire world were also on fire, which couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.
The flames licked his porch and the hot air had blown out two of the windows on the second story. The flames were lapping at the outside of the building, crawling over the inside walls.
No coincidence.