Page 4 of Don’t Get Too Close

I left it on the counter and didn’t bother signing it. He said there was no rush. And if nothing was changing, why did we even need it? He’d figure out soon enough that he didn’t need to try to get friendly with me. I kept to myself and would appreciate it if he did the same.

Over the next few days, he tried to wave me down whenever I drove past his house, even running out in a towel once when I left thirty minutes earlier than usual. My gaze lingered on his bare chest and the trail of hair leading down under the towel, but I averted my eyes and kept going.

I didn’t like anyone to know my routine, so it was time to mix things up.

About a week after he knocked on my door, a severe storm rolled in. It had been building up all afternoon, and when it finally broke, it was angry. I’d been watching the blue sky disappear, replaced by a hazy gray color that meant we were in for a wild night.

By the time it was fully dark, the wind was rattling the whole trailer almost off its blocks, and I wasn’t sure we’d make it through the night.

Thankfully, the power didn’t go out, so I turned up the TV and did my best to drown out the worst of it. I hated storms. I hated loud noises. And I hated that I was such a baby about everything.

It wasn’t the first storm I’d survived in this trailer. They were built for withstanding storms, and mine had survived every one of them so far. There was no reason to think this would be any different.

When a loud crack of thunder boomed close enough to shake the windows in their frames, I flinched and ran into the bedroom. I had a pair of headphones in there, so I put them on and slid under the bed. I felt safest in small, cramped places that no one else could get to.

And by no one, I meant the thunder.

The whole trailer shook and vibrated, but I cranked up my music and curled up in the fetal position. It felt like bombs were being dropped above my head, and maybe they were. I wasn’t about to crawl out from my hidey hole to check.

Eventually, I dozed off. Even though I’d gotten used to sleeping through chaos when I was a kid, I was glad I didn’t have to work the next day. I’d need a day to relax after such a stressful night.

When I woke up again, my ear hurt from being pressed on the hard floor, so I flattened my body and shimmied out from under the bed.

The trailer sounded different. Where there was usually a hollow tone to the space, I now heard the swishing of air moving. Wind. Inside my little enclave. A few steps later, I understood where it was coming from. Glass arced out across the kitchen floor, and a puddle of rain water flooded the linoleum. I followed the source of the water and saw a hole in the upper corner of my kitchen where my window and roof used to be.

And where a giant branch was now resting on my crumpled fridge. “What the fuck…”

For one long moment, I just froze in place and couldn’t get my legs to move. In my head, I was sixteen again and running from those who threatened to take my life. Was this the same thing?

No, not at all. Probably. Maybe. It took another second before I could force air into my lungs and step toward the front door.

On shaking legs, I yanked open the door and stumbled outside. An entire tree had come down behind my place and one of the smaller limbs was responsible for the damage to my home. My sanctuary. My safe place.

Instead of being grateful that the whole tree didn’t crush me in my sleep, I was low-key furious that the one place I could truly hide was now gone. I couldn’t live here anymore. Even if I wanted to, the new landlord would probably be too worried about lawsuits and insurance companies to let me stay. “Fuck!”

4

KACEN

It was close to midnight when the power finally went out, and all I had to listen to was the sound of the wind trying to peel the roof off the house. Luckily, Grandpa built the place to last, so I didn't think there was any damage. Still, I needed to do a thorough inspection of all the structures to make sure.

I woke up later than usual after only a few hours of broken sleep to take a piss. After putting on some jeans and a pot of coffee, I walked out on the porch to assess the damage.

There were branches all along the driveway and a few trash cans had been dropped, but I didn’t see any⁠—

Shit, is that a tree?

I jogged down the steps and went toward the old oak that was no longer standing but lying on its side with a giant clump of dirt still attached to its root and…fuck.

My stomach dropped when I looked up the length of the tree and saw a heavy branch had fallen on Theodore’s trailer.

I was moving before I realized it, my bare feet not even registering the debris stabbing the bottom of my feet.

Then I saw him.

Theodore was standing a few feet from the mess in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt with his arms wrapped around his chest like he was trying to hold himself together.

His hair was dark and sticking up on one side like he’d just stumbled out of bed, but had he actually slept through a tree falling on his trailer?