We travel the rest of the way in silence, but sometimes, the quiet is far more deafening than noise.
We arrive back home in mere minutes, but when we attempt to turn down our street, it’s blocked off by the police. Cayden winds down his window. “Our house is down there,” he says quickly, but the young officer shakes his head.
“It isn’t safe, sir. One of the houses is on fire. We’ve evacuated the neighborhood.” The sky is ablaze with streaks of blood red and a blistering orange.
Leaning over the middle console, I try to reason with him. “I know. It’s my house! Please!”
I’m hoping he budges, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you down there. Not until the fire is under control.”
“My daughter and my sister live a few doors down. At least let me see if they’re all right!” Cayden is a
