Keith worries. He worries about Afghanistan and Iraq. He worries about radicals and people with a grudge. He worries about people who hate Rachel because of things she‘s said and people who hate Rachel because of who she is. Mostly he just worries.
You would think that the fact Rachel has two girlfriends who carry weapons and are trained to kill people would make him feel better. It really, really doesn’t. He’s always sort of thought that guns attract more guns, and both Emily and Olivia live dangerous lives. It’s always possible that their work will follow them home. And Rachel is home for them, or at least beginning to be. Even he can see that. So now he worries about serial killers and terrorists and whatever else his brain can imagine up for the FBI to chase down.
He also worries that the danger won’t follow Emily or Olivia home. He worries that it will find them out in the field, and Rachel will get a man in a black suit on her doorstep. He worries about them both dying in some massive FBI operation, of them leaving Rachel alone to grieve. It makes him glad that there are two of them, that maybe if the worst happens, it will only happen to one of them. That he won’t be the only one there for Rachel.
Emily is the easier of the two. She’s much more willing to carry on a conversation with Keith, and can talk baseball if absolutely necessary. Olivia just studies him like he’s some alien creature. He’s not sure if it because he’s a guy, or if he’s a journalist, or if it’s just because he’s Rachel’s friend, and your girlfriend’s best friend is always a person to be concerned about in any relationship. Still, Keith makes more of an effort for them than he normally would. Rachel clearly loves them after all, and he wants her, more than anything, to be happy.
And because he wants her to be happy, Keith tries not to worry in front of Rachel. So he wrangles her for drinks after the shows, and makes sure there is one waiting for her. They banter their way back to an even keel, and Keith makes sure Rachel safely gets into a cab.
“One of them is waiting for you at home, right?” he asks. He worries, after all.
“Both of them,” Rachel says, with a sweet, soft smile that still makes his heart squeeze a little in his chest.
He smiles back at her. “Be safe,” he says.
“I will,” she murmurs, as he closes the taxi door. “I will.”