Page 26 of Bottle Shock
“Scottie is fine,” Elyse says quickly, before anyone can speak. “She wasn’t inside. But a fire broke out in one of the townhouses. It spread to mine.”
For a moment, the only sound is the faint hiss of Shane’s sauce bubbling on the stove.
Then everyone starts talking at once—questions, offers to help.
Elyse holds up a hand. “Everyone, quiet. I just need to go see it. I’ll call Dominic once I know how bad it is.”
“I’ll come with you,” Mom says instantly.
Elyse shakes her head. “No, Mom. You’ve had wine. I’ll befine.” She stands, grabbing her purse, already halfway to the door.
“I’ll go,” Shane says, tossing a kitchen towel on the counter.
“Me too,” Ariana adds, pushing back her chair.
Elyse waves them off. “Really, it’s fine. I just need to see it for myself. I’ll have to deal with insurance and who knows what else.”
It’s not fine. I can tell by the tremor in her hands as she fumbles for her keys. We all know her mental health is still fragile—this could be too much for her. But my worry for Elyse isn’t the only thing that has my pulse hammering.
It’s Scottie.
The thought of her standing there alone makes my chest tighten. I don’t know why it hits me so hard, but it does. The need to make sure she’s okay claws its way up my throat before I can stop it.
“I’ll drive,” I hear myself say.
Elyse blinks, surprised. But if she’s going to let anyone come with her, it’s me. “You sure? You’ve got Lily?—”
“Mom’s got her. You’ve got her, right?” I cut in, glancing toward the table where Lily sits wide-eyed and silent while Mom nods. I turn to Elyse. “I’ll take you.”
Elyse studies me for a second, then nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I grab my keys from the counter and follow her out, my heart pounding for reasons I can’t quite explain.
Elyse slides into the passenger seat before I’ve even started the engine. She’s gnawing her lip raw, eyes fixed straight ahead. I don’t say anything, because what is there to say? Scottie is supposedly fine; fine enough to call. But it’s like neither of us will feel settled until we see it with our own eyes.
The drive is short but tense. Gravel gives way to asphalt, and the last traces of daylight fade behind the hills. My fingersdrum against the steering wheel, beating to a steady rhythm to disguise the shake in my hands.
When the flashing lights finally come into view, something in my stomach twists.
The townhouses look ghostly in the wash of red and blue. Firefighters move like shadows against lights.
It doesn’t take long to spot Scottie. I half expected to find her in tears, maybe in need of comfort. But I’ve clearly made the same mistake everyone else has—underestimating her. She’s standing with Toby, the fire chief, talking a mile a minute while he looks downright terrified to be on the receiving end of her wrath. She’s not yelling, but she’s sure as hell not being sweet as sugar either.
CHAPTER 7
Scottie
ARE YOU TWO DONE FLIRTING?
I’m not yelling.
Yelling would imply I’m raising my voice—which I’m not, obviously. My hands are just…moving a lot. That’s what happens when I’m trying to make a point and not completely lose my shit in public.
Toby looks like he wants to be anywhere else. Poor guy keeps glancing toward the smoke, like he’d literally rather be fighting a fire than talking to me.
“Well since you won’t tell me the cause because I’m ‘not the owner,’” I start, trying to sound reasonable and calm. I’m totally calm. “Can you at least tell me how bad it is?”
He shifts his weight, clearly wishing I didn’t have him cornered. “Not as bad as it could’ve been,” he says, voice hesitant. “Do you know when the owner will be?—”
