Page 47 of The Keeper and I

He pointed down the hall, and Jordan thundered up the stairs. The first firework screeched into the sky, exploding with a boom. The light made the back bedrooms glow for a moment. Jordan looked Coach Warren’s son up and down.

“What’re you doing up here?”

The kid held up a Nintendo. “Getting my Switch.”

“The fireworks not entertaining enough?”

As if on cue, another bloomed across the sky.

The kid shrugged. “We do this every year.”

Jordan snatched the device from the kid’s grasp, ignoring his cry of protest. “Go outside and spend some fucking quality time with your dad.”

“Geez, fine.” The kid scoffed, and stomped down the stairs.

Jordan proceeded into the bedroom the Warren boy had indicated and tossed the Switch onto the bed. He didn’t turn a light on in case anyone outside was looking, so it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. He still didn’t see any sign of Laci.

Another firework erupted outside, and that’s when he heard a whimper, soft, feminine, and frightened, coming from the closet. Jordan pressed his ear against the door. He could hear her frantic breathing, and his heart twisted at her distress.

He slowly opened the door.

She started as another firework burst outside. She let out a squeak before retreating further into the wall. She huddled in the corner with her hands over her ears and her knees drawn into her chest. Even in the dark, he could see her trembling. It was worse than when Dane showed up at her house. This was definitely not because of Peter. Her eyes met his, and he saw the wetness in them.

“Jordan, I—oh!” She stopped short when another firework blew up, and she hid her face behind her knees.

He knelt in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her knee.

“Laci,” he said. “I’m gonna sit next to you. Is that alright?”

She nodded. It took some maneuvering since Jordan’s height put him right in the middle of all Coach Warren’s hanging shirts. With a huff, he shoved them all to one side and took a seat beside his girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend, he reminded himself.

“What’s this about?” he asked gently.

To his heart’s jubilation, she scooted closer to him. He took it as an invitation to put his arm around her, and she came even closer until they were hip to hip. She still had her face buried amid her knees and elbows, but he didn’t mind. His main concern was how clammy her skin was. Sweat shone on the back of her neck, and her dress clung to her skin.

“I’ve had this fear since I was a child,” she admitted through a muffled voice. “I had this—”

Another firework. She winced, and he tightened his grip around her.

“I have this anxiety,” she said shakily. “Every time I heard the sound of a firework or gunfire I—”

The next firework had Jordan cursing the whole event. She shuddered, and her hand shot out, gripping his shirt so hard her knuckles went white. She swallowed, but it went down like bitter medicine judging by the grimace on her face.

“I don’t know why. I always feel like I’m burning.” She put her free hand on her chest, and he wondered if she could feel it now. He guessed she could, given how she was sweating and shaking. “Here in my chest. I get so hot it’s unbearable. No matter what I do, I can’t make it go away until I’m somewhere safe.”

“And a closet was your first choice?”

“It muffles the sound.”

Another bang resounded from outside, and she jumped, moving into Jordan’s side.

“Not enough apparently,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

He swallowed. “Can I ask you something?”