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Let s look around back. Ty slipped his sunglasses back on.
Montanans were very particular about their personal liberties, especially gun rights.
Everyone had a gun and they knew how to use them. Mostly for hunting and a lot because they
were constitutionally able. When it came to personal protection, in other states people shot first
and asked questions later. In Montana, people were so friendly to a stranger they d give them a
cup of coffee before they shot them. So, I wasn t too concerned about being shot while
exploring around a stranger s house. But I let Ty go first.
Ty s long legs ate up the distance around the garage and beat me to the concrete patio out
back. He wasn t in a rush, but he wasn t one for dilly-dallying either. He peered in the glass of
the back door then shook his head. I was walking up to join him when the wind kicked up again
and I smelled eggs. Rotten eggs. I froze in my tracks. My heart stopped. Uh-oh.
Ty, I said. He must have heard something in my tone because he turned to look at me
from the patio without hesitation. I smell
I saw his eyes change with awareness to an oh shit look. Gas! Ty grabbed my arm in
a heartbeat and we bolted around the house away from the garage, opposite of the way we d
come. Propane tank, he said, breathing heavily as we jumped over an old lawnmower. On the
back side of the garage. We walked right past it. Not always dangerous, but we re not sticking
around to find out.
I practically sprinted to keep up with him, my arm still in his grip. We d turned the
corner and were back in front of the house when I heard a whoomph. Not overly loud, but a
weird sound as if a balloon had imploded. Ty practically yanked my arm from the socket as we
sprinted to the drainage ditch by the road. Obviously he knew what whoomph meant and it
wasn t good. One second I was vertical, the next I was face down in weeds and dirt with all of
Ty s weight crushing me. I contemplated how his heavy breathing tickled my ear when&
KABOOM.
Batman comic KABOOM with the big word bubble and huge capital letters big. Debris
rained down on us for a full ten seconds. Ty slowly extricated himself from me and raised up
onto one knee, brushing small bits of drywall and pink insulation from his back. I pushed myself
up on my hands to see what had happened even though I had a pretty good idea.
Not dangerous? I questioned.
The left side of the house was no more. The garage had been blown to kingdom come.
Only stumps of the lower walls remained attached to the foundation. The main part of the house
was mostly intact, but the side closest to the garage was now a bunch of pieces all over the yard,
the driveway and out into the street. Only the far right side remained intact, although most of the
windows were blown out. Furniture and other household items littered the yard. A blender was
three feet in front of us on the grass.
Your truck, I said, pointing to what was left of it. Somehow, the old fridge we d seen
in the garage had been hurled through the air in the explosion. And landed dead center on top of
Ty s truck.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ty looked over his shoulder at the new addition to his truck. The avocado green side-by-
side fridge was lodged in the front windshield and roof at a forty-five degree angle. One door
was wide open and frozen foods spilled out. He shook his head and swore. I only heard a few
cuss words as he d done it so quietly and the neighbor s car alarm was going off. It could have
been the ringing in my ears. It was hard to tell the difference.
A small fire sent black smoke up into the air where the back of the garage had been, but
was minor enough not to set the whole house ablaze. The smell of cooked house blew on the
breeze. As I couldn t smell gas anymore, I had to assume it was all used up in the explosion
when it launched the fridge through the air twenty feet.
Ty s body was rigid, strung tight like a bow, but he didn t shout or rant his anger. Like I
would have if my car had been smooshed. When he turned to face me, he d bottled it up tightly.
Are you hurt? He took my shoulders and looked me up and down, probably checking
for any broken bones, bowel evisceration or hangnails. His voice had rough edges, his grip
strong. I d never seen such intensity in his eyes before. This must ve been the look he had in
battle in the Middle East. No doubt he d seen worse in war.
My sunglasses were no longer on my face. I d scraped my knees and hands where I d
skidded in the dirt. It stung, but I felt lucky with just that. He pulled a weed from my hair. Dirt
covered my shirt and there was a small rip at the shoulder.
I shook my head. Stunned. The house just blew up. Duh.
Ty pulled me into his arms in a fierce hug, my face pressed against his chest. His rock
hard chest. He smelled like soap, dirt and fire. I could feel his heartbeat pound against his ribs.
At least the explosion affected him on a cardiovascular level.
One of the black shutters fell from the second floor and landed in a juniper.
I know you ve seen lots of crazy things with the fire department and stuff I can t even
imagine with the army. But in my little world houses don t just blow up.
In everybody s world houses don t just blow up. Not from a propane tank. This house
had help.
***
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