“Where are your keys?”
Confused, Jett motioned toward the front door where his keys hung from a hook. “Are you going out?”
He didn’t know why Harrison wanted to take his vehicle, other than not wanting to risk that fancy old car in his garage. But in this weather, when it was already dark out?
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Harrison. He crossed the room and went to the shelf holding Jett’s keys, plucking them off. “And neither are you.”
Jett looked out the window where the storm kicked up leaves and blew water off the lake. “No shit. I wouldn’t leave right now even if I wanted to.”
Harrison jingled his keys at him, striding toward his room. “Goodnight, Fraser.”
Jett didn’t move from his spot on the couch. He hugged his arms to his chest, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety that was beginning to eat athim. The feeling only intensified when the power cut out, and he was suddenly thrown into darkness.
Fucking storm.
He tried to shake the feeling as he stood and headed for his room. He used his phone flashlight to avoid bumping into anything, but he shut it off as soon as he was in bed and under the blankets to preserve the battery.
More flashing lights and thunder startled him. The storm had to be above, judging by how loud and bright it was. So, to avoid being blinded while trying to fall asleep, he grabbed the spare pillow and threw it over his head.
Harrison’s issue with keys was the thought that distracted him from slumber. That was the second time he’d taken them, even though Jett had no intention of leaving.
Was it a superstition, or was he being paranoid and protective?
The sound of rain battering against the window was like white noise. The intensity fluctuated back and forth as Jett tried to fall asleep, only to be woken up by more thunder. His mind kept drifting in and out of consciousness, and since Harrison and car keys had been his last thought, his sleepy brain kept making half-dream scenarios that involved vehicles and Harrison.
They were in a car driving through a storm. The rain was pouring in buckets, so he could barely see, but he drove slowly to avoid going off the road. Harrison kept reaching for the keys in the ignition, not saying anything, but not listening to Jett when he told him to stop.
Harrison’s brother and best friend had died in a storm like this.
Jett slammed his foot on the brake and sprang into a sitting position on the bed. He was disoriented and struggling to find his limbs, but was already on his feet, staggering across the house to Harrison’s room.
It was stupid. The accident was a long time ago, but if storms brought those memories back, Jett didn’t think he could relax until he knew Harrison was fine. The thought of Harrison panicking in his room didn’t sit well with him.
When he got to Harrison’s door, he forgot to knock, but he was already in the room, so it was too late. He tripped over a pair of boots that had been too close to the doorway as he ventured farther in, fully expecting to get something thrown at him.
“Harrison?”
He could see the bed until lightning flashed and took away what night vision he had. Jett carefully walked closer and pressed his hands to the bed, running them over the top. He frowned when he could feel no lump that indicated Harrison was there.
The rain hitting the roof was loud, but it couldn’t completely block out the sound of the water running. It was a weird time to shower, but Jett still didn’t feel right about leaving without proof of life.
He knocked on the bathroom door as soon as he found it, cracking it open so his voice was loud enough to hear.
“Killinger, you okay?”
Nothing.
“Just tell me to fuck off so I can stop worrying about you and go back to bed. This storm is freaking me out. The thunder is loud as hell.”
Still nothing.
Jett didn’t know why his instincts kept telling him something was wrong, but with Harrison not answering, he had no choice but to investigate.
He stepped into the bathroom, cursing at how dark it was. He flicked the light switch on, and nothing happened. This was expected, but it was still annoying. He’d left his phone in his room, and besides the occasional flash of lightning, he couldn’t see shit.
“Seriously, man, are you in here or am I talking to myself?”
There was a small sound in the darkness—a groan, like he had just woken Harrison from a nap. If he was scared of storms and the shower was where he needed to be to cope, Jett wasn’t going to bother him, but—something was off.
