The Dare by Elle Kennedy

Author:Elle Kennedy [Kennedy, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elle Kennedy Inc.
Published: 2020-06-15T14:00:00+00:00

23

Conor

“Fucking hell!” Coach thunders, lunging toward the oven.

I’m not sure what stops me from just throwing the door closed. Probably the thick cloud of smoke pouring out and distorting my field of vision.

“Oh my God! Dad! THIS IS WHY I DON’T LET YOU COOK!”

Brenna bursts into the kitchen shouting over the piercing alarm with her hands over her ears, just as Coach grabs an oven mitt and picks up the roasting dish, burning his other hand.

He jolts, tilting the tray, which splashes scalding hot juices onto the bottom of the oven that ignite on the red-hot heating element.

Flames burst out of the ferocious black mouth.

While Brenna runs her dad’s hand under the cold faucet, I heroically beat the flames back with the dishrag, trying to get close enough to shut the damn door. But the heat is almost suffocating and the fire is only getting bigger.

“Babe, move,” someone orders, and suddenly Taylor rushes in front of me and tosses a heap of mashed potatoes on the source of the flare-up.

The oven coughs out a plume of smoke and we all rush outside to the sound of the fire engine approaching and the sight of red lights bouncing off the trees.

“Who’s up for Thai, am I right?”

“Not now, Brenna,” growls Coach. Cradling his injured hand, he watches as firefighters run into the house to survey the situation.

The flashing lights twinkle across the worry on Iris Marsh’s face. She pries Coach’s hand from his chest to inspect the damage.

“Oh, Chad. You should get the EMTs to look at that.”

Before he can protest, she waves her hand and a woman with a big duffel bag comes rushing over to tend to his burns.

Beside me, Taylor entwines her fingers with mine and cradles my arm for warmth. We’re pathetic, a shivering and embarrassed spectacle on the front lawn of 42 Manchester Road. Neighbors peer out their windows and stand in their driveways wondering what the commotion’s all about.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I tell him, wincing at his red palm. “I should’ve tried to close the oven door.”

He barely flinches while the EMT pokes at his burn. “Not your fault, Edwards. Turns out I’m the dumbass.”

“You know,” Iris says, “Thai sounds great.”

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