Page 76 of For Emery

We climbed the steps and Jordan unlocked the front door. A tremor of nerves shot through me as I stepped inside. We’d be all alone. In a big empty house. With his bedroom right upstairs. Was this the night? He’d said on the boat he wanted to get me alone. Was this what he meant? Was this what he wanted all along?

“So, this is my place,” he said, stepping in behind me and locking the door. “I know you were here before, but with all the people, and me being a drunk asshole, you probably didn’t get to check it out.”

I checked out the scarce furniture and multiple TVs with video game boxes and wires stretched across the floor. It was definitely a guys’ house.

“I’d ask if you wanted to play, but I know how you feel about video games.” He ticked his head toward the sofa. “Come sit. I have something for you.”

“What?” I asked, lowering myself to the old sofa.

“Hold on. It’s a surprise.” He took off for the stairs and climbed them, the old steps creaking as he disappeared.

I pulled my phone from my wristlet to check if my mom called. She hadn’t. It was always a relief when she hadn’t because it meant nothing was wrong. But at the same time, it left me disappointed because it meant Wayne hadn’t been caught. I tucked my phone away and waited for Jordan.

After a few minutes, he returned carrying a flat box wrapped in newspaper. He sat down beside me on the sofa. The cushion dipped with his weight and the sagging cushion pulled me closer to him. “For you,” he said, handing me the box.

I took it from him, and it was heavier than I thought it would be. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

I set the box down in my lap and tore away the wrapping. I lifted off the cover. A brown leather photo album sat inside. Tearing my eyes away, I glanced to Jordan who watched me intently.

“Open it.”

I lifted the album, pushing the wrapping and box onto the sofa. I flipped open to the front page. Jordan’s familiar handwriting had written: It’s always been you. My heart squeezed in my chest as I glanced to him. He looked nervous, but eager for me to continue. So I did, turning to the next page. My breath whooshed out of me as I stared down at the words Year One. A picture of Jordan and me after his peewee football game sat in the center of the page. I was eight. My hair hung in braids while Jordan’s face was beet red after a tough game. It was my first time seeing him play. And I remember loving every minute of it and deciding in that moment that I’d be at every one of his games. And I was—even if I was watching online and not in person.

I flipped the page. Beneath the words Year Two were several pictures. Jordan and me in his backyard. At the creek. Roasting marshmallows at a campfire. Both a year older. Both having just as much fun.

My fingers traced the pictures fondly. “I remember all of these moments.”

“Me too,” he said, leaning in so he could look at the pictures.

“I can’t believe you didn’t delete these.”

“You’re not the only one who kept things. Some my mom had on her phone. But most of them were on mine. I couldn’t delete them, Em. Even when I was so angry at you for leaving me, I couldn’t erase you from my life completely.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss to the side of my head as I flipped to the next page. Then the next. Each page was a new year. And with each year brought more pictures of all the new experiences for the two of us as we grew up together. Jordan had them all captured here. When I reached the last page, it was empty except for the word Finally. My eyes cut to his.

A slow smile lifted one side of his mouth as he pulled out his phone and held it up for a selfie. We both leaned in. “Finally,” he said before snapping a picture.

I glanced to him as he checked out our selfie, swallowing down the nervous knot creeping up my throat. “Are you gonna show me your room?”

His eyes widened, taken aback by my boldness. “Is that what you want?”

Trying not to show my nerves, I kept my eyes confident and nodded.

Jordan stood first, reaching for my hand. I placed the album at my side and grasped hold of his hand. He pulled me up and into his chest, staring down at me. He said nothing, but his gaze spoke volumes.

He eventually moved us to the stairs and we climbed them slowly. With each step, my heartbeat accelerated. Once we reached the second floor, it was a jackhammer. Jordan moved to the first door on the right and pushed it open.

“This is nice,” I said, observing his room as my thrashing heart threatened to burst out of my chest. His bed was made and the top of his dresser was empty except for a bottle of cologne.

“Were you expecting bras hanging from the bedpost?”

I shook my head. “Panties from the ceiling fan.”

He laughed. “You offering?”

I laughed, slipping my hand free from his and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Maybe.”

“Just so we’re clear, I would not hang them from the fan.”

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