The participation was widespread, and everyone seemed excited.

I couldn’t help feeling like shit.

Christian was in this group, interacting with his peers, their parents, and his teacher, and I was nowhere.

I saw a message from Ms. Bradbury posted about two hours ago, wishing the kids a pleasant and safe few days off and to not forget to work on their assignments which were still due Friday.

Some of the students commented with pictures or jokes all done in good humor. They seemed to like her.

And I still knew almost nothing about her.

I closed the laptop and set it aside, opening up my own again.

I hesitated for only a moment, and then brought up my web browser, typing in “Easton Bradbury.”

NINE

EASTON

I tore open the bag of microwave popcorn, a steam cloud full of the scent of butter and salt bursting forth as I shook the contents out into a large glass bowl.

“Always” by Saliva played on the iPod, and I bobbed my head to the music. Tossing the bag away, I grabbed two Coronas out of the refrigerator.

“All right. Your windows are all secure,” my brother called as he pounded down the stairs. “I’m surprised you don’t have shutters, though. I thought you’d think of that, Miss Self-Sufficient.”

I shook my head, handing him a beer. “Well, consider it my next project.”

He grabbed the bottle opener out of the drawer and popped the top. “There’s no way you’re hanging out the windows to install them yourself, Easton. You’re hiring someone to do that job.”

I shook more salt onto the popcorn. “I was going to.”

“No, you weren’t,” he deadpanned.

I laughed to myself. No, I wasn’t.

Installing shutters sounded fun. Of course, I’d have little knowledge of what I was doing, and by the time I was done, the house would probably look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, but it’d be something new to learn.

And it would get Jack off my back.

I think it honestly bugged him that I didn’t need his help more, which was why he reveled in situations such as these. It gave him the opportunity to hover even when I’d assured him the house was ready for a storm. Windows and doors secure, batteries and flashlights stocked in the kitchen drawer, and food and water shelved in the pantry if need be. That was about all we could do.

The ominous clouds this morning had turned into a light rain this afternoon, and after considering the forecast for the next forty-eight hours, most schools in the parish had decided to close. E-mails and letters were sent home to parents, and I posted in the Facebook groups, reminding students that the chapter test was still set for Friday and to continue with their reading to prepare.

I’d come home, changed into some pajama shorts and my Loyola Wolf Pack T-shirt, and then downloaded some scary movies. Jack had rushed over to make sure I was safe.

“Maybe I should stay here,” he offered, leaning against the counter behind me.

I picked two cloth napkins out of the drawer and then popped the top on my Corona. “Jack, when was I born?” I asked, not looking at him.

“November seventh.”

“What year?” I pressed.

“Nineteen ninety-one.”

“Which makes me how old?” I ran my hand over the napkin, smoothing the folded rectangle as I waited.

“Twenty-three.” He sighed.

I turned and looked at him, his contrite expression telling me he understood everything I didn’t say. He didn’t need to hold my hand during a rainstorm or worry that I’d cross paths with a black cat.

“I’m twenty-three,” I reiterated. “I don’t worry that you can take care of yourself.”

“I haven’t gone through what you’ve gone through,” he said, sounding defensive but sad. “You were sixteen when he started…”

I looked away, swallowing the lump blocking my airway.

“When he started following you, texting you, terrorizing you…” Jack went on, looking pained.

I shook my head. “Jack,” I warned, wanting him to stop.

“You never knew what was coming.” He squeezed the neck of the bottle in his hands. “You never knew whether he was going to show up in —”

“Jack, stop,” I gritted out, cutting him off.

“I know you have guilt about Avery and our parents… about that night —”

I snapped my eyes up to his. “Enough!” I ordered.

He held my eyes, both of us frozen in the kitchen as the sound of fat raindrops pounded the roof and windows.

His expression hardened, turning from sad to challenging, and he set down his beer and powered into the living room, going straight for the bookshelf.

My arms heated with fear, and my throbbing heart pounded harder as I watched him reach onto one of the shelves and unearth the small wooden chest nestled there.

He turned around, gesturing to the locked box.

“What are you keeping in here?” he demanded.

But I clamped my jaw shut. He was invading my privacy, and I refused to give in.

“Open it,” he ordered, knowing that I had the key.

I tipped my chin up and tried to calm my racing heart. “No,” I answered calmly.

“Easton.” His jaw flexed. “Open it.”

I looked away. How the hell had he known something was in there?

My eyes burned, and I blinked long and hard. I can’t open the box. I wouldn’t. It hadn’t been opened in five years, and this was none of my brother’s business.

“No.”

He stared at me, shaking his head, probably not knowing what to do.

He walked over, speaking quietly. “You keep the past too close. You’re not moving on.” His eyes searched my face, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s in there, but I know it’s too heavy a weight for you to carry around with you. You’re twenty-three. You say you’re a woman, but you still live within the lines as if you were a child.” He dropped his eyes, whispering in a shaky voice, “You don’t step out of the box, Easton.”

I let out a breath and turned, walking back to my popcorn. “That’s not true.”

“Do you have any friends?” he challenged, following me. “Who was the last person to make you laugh? When was the last time you went to bed with someone more than once?”

I ground my teeth together, picking up the snacks and walking back to the living room.

But Jack kept pressing, “Has anyone other than me ever been in this apartment?” he asked.

I slammed my food down on the coffee table and picked up the remote.

“I’m tired of seeing you alone,” he burst out. “I’m ready to burn this fucking place down and everything in it, so you’re forced to leave the safety of your little shell!”

“Ugh!” I grabbed a handful of popcorn and flung it at him, the popped kernels hitting his face.

He jerked back, struck dumb by what I’d done.

Dropping his gaze, he arched an eyebrow, looking down at the white puffs on the floor.

I snorted, trying to contain my laugh, and he couldn’t keep from smiling either, as he looked up at me.

“Ask me how old you are again,” he grumbled. “I think I’d like to change my answer.”

He brushed off crumbs from his shirt as I kept laughing.

But then we both jerked, a knock on the front door catching our attention.

Jack looked to me, a question in his eyes, but I shrugged. I had no idea who would be knocking on my door. He was right, after all. I had no friends.

I walked into the hallway, my bare feet quiet against the hardwood floor.

“Who is it?” I called, leaning up on my tiptoes to see into the peephole.

And my stomach instantly dropped. I fell away from the door, landing back on the heels of my feet.

What the hell?

“Easton?” he called through the door. “It’s Tyler Marek.”

I pinched my eyebrows together and shot up, peeping through the hole again.

How does he know where I live?

He was still dressed in the same suit from today, although his tie was loosened and his hair was wet, probably due to the rain. His head was cast downward as he waited, and I dropped to my feet again, realizing I was breathing a mile a minute.