Page 11 of Hot Shot

Jessa eyes me. “And do what with it?”

I shrug. “Take it to the dump.”

“Honestly, she’s so drunk, she might not even remember we didn’t burn it all. But I’m afraid she needs closure, and these boxes might be necessary. That, and she’d likely throwmein a fire if I gave it to you. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“I don’t like seeing her like that.”

Again with the brow. “Naked?”

“Unhappy.”

She sighs, looking back to the hissing pile of trash and logs. “Yes, well, she’s handling it as best she can.” We’re quiet for a second. “She’s just…miserable.”

“Maybe there’s a way to fix it.”

She pats my arm. “I think only time can do that.”

“Yeah. Time.”

“And perhaps a bit of whiskey and a raging bonfire?”

A whistle sounds from behind us, and Jessa’s face lights up at the sound.

“Hello, darling,” she says to Remy, her boyfriend and one of my best friends.

“Hey, darlin’.” He leans in to kiss her briefly before getting a good look at the carnage of melted plastic and debris. “Damn—y’all really got after it. Didn’t expect to find the fire department when I came to pick you up.”

Jessa’s head bobs. “It got a bit out of hand.”

“Where’s Cass?”

“In bed,” I answer. “Just tucked her in.”

He gives me a look that I don’t answer. “Well, alright, then. Good thing Aunt Jenny’s out of town. But it’s gonna be a shitty day tomorrow getting everything put back before she gets home.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we have plenty of hands, isn’t it?” Jessa notes.

“If you need any extra, I get off work at seven in the morning,” I offer.

Remy snorts. “We should wake her up banging pots and pans. She’ll be too weak to kill us.”

“I do think we could use your help,” Jessa says. “Perhaps we could convince her to let you take some of this to the dump like you offered?”

I nod. “Happy to.”

“Good, we’ll text you in the morning.” Remy takes the hose from Jessa and starts winding it up.

“When will you have time to sleep?” Jessa asks, throwing some strewn items into empty boxes.

I take her lead and help her pick things up. “Eh, who needs it?”

“Me,” she says on a laugh. “I need it. Desperately.”

“Then come on, Duchess,” Remy says, picking her up as she giggles and swats at his arm. She’s protesting on the grounds she’s not finished, but he ignores her. “You can finish tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.”

With a sigh of surrender, she answers, “Yes, sir,” and winds her arms around his neck.

He leans in and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh, her face cherry red.

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