Page 77 of Burn Point

“Jordan. Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you. I’m just waiting on you to tell me the rest of it before I get all up in a tizzy. Like the time you told me about the divorce and then him and Sandi getting married.”

“Jordan.” Mom’s voice cracked on a sob.

I looked over to see tears streaming down her face while she shook her head.

“Honey, I know I sometimes overreact. But this time…” She visibly swallowed. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

A knock on the driver’s side window startled me from the miserable memory. I looked up to find Leah standing by the truck, reaching for the door handle.

“Oh, honey, open the door.” Leah’s voice was calm but firm, in control, and reached that chaotic part of my brain, allowing me to finally take a normal breath.

I hit the unlock button and she pulled the door open, reaching in to hug me.

Wiping her thumb across my cheek, she gazed into my eyes, sympathy written all over her face. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying. “Grab your bag, come on. Let’s go wait somewhere together until Mike calls.”

Gently, she tugged my arm and led me to the passenger side of her car before tucking me in, reminding me to buckle up.

Surely Nate was fine. I swiped the remaining wetness from my cheeks and dug deep for some rational train of thought. I was not going to be my mother and overreact. Just because they’d said someone was injured didn’t automatically mean that it was Nate. My mind and heart and experience were just playing tricks on me.

The landscape whipped by as I stared blankly out the window. Leah’s gentle voice was soothing background noise.

We were stopped at a red light when her phone rang.

Leah hit the Bluetooth button. “Hi, Mrs. O’Malley.”

“Leah, dear.” An elderly woman’s warbly voice filled the car. “The rumor mill is stirring about something going down in town. What can you tell me is happening? You know I need to beat Eunice with the most reliable information. I’m counting on you to deliver the goods.”

“I don’t know anything yet. I’m picking up my friend Jordan now. Mike has gone to see what he can find out.”

“Where are you girls going?”

Leah glanced at me. “We aren’t sure. Jordan dates my friend Nate. He’s on that call. She was at the station when it rang out, I just picked her up. We wanted to be together while we wait to hear what is going on.”

“Nate was one of the calendar boys, right? Which month is he again?” Mrs. O’Malley sounded like she was moving, flipping pages. “You girls come here, and you can show me. I made some of my special brownies today.”

Leah looked over at me again, eyebrows raised, tilting her head as if asking me.

I nodded stupidly, too numb to decide.

“Okay, we’ll head that way.”

“Excellent, dear. I’ll get out the shot glasses.”

The phone disconnected as Leah accelerated from the light. “That was my neighbor Mrs. O’Malley. She’s a bit of a handful. But she’s good as gold.”

“Okay.” My voice sounded as hollow as I felt.

Moments or hours later—time was a blur—Leah ushered me up the stairs of a quaint little bungalow. A sweet-looking, white-haired elderly woman greeted us at the top of the stairs, giving us each a hug after pushing a mug into our hands.

“Here you go, my sweets.”

She pulled back, patting my cheek. “Hi, I’m Francis O’Malley. You sure are a pretty little thing.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

Leah opened the door and Mrs. O’Malley bustled us inside.

---