Chapter 27

twenty-seven

. . .

Easton

Archer

Melody, who obviously has a limited vocabulary as she’s barely three years old, just asked me if she has boobies. Where the fuck did she hear that?

Axel

My money is on Rafe.

Clark

Same.

Rafe

Is boobies a bad word now?

Bridger

It’s better than asking if she has titties.

Rafe

I love me some titties.

Clark

laughing face emoji

Archer

Hey, I’m trying to raise a little girl over here. Watch your fucking mouths when you’re around her.

Bridger

I always call “earmuffs” before I say anything offensive.

Axel

Well, you barely speak half the time, so it’s slightly easier for you.

Bridger

Maybe you all should take a lesson in the joys of quiet time. You’re all so fucking chatty.

Rafe used to get written up at school for talking during quiet time. He can’t help himself.

Archer

I’m being serious here. My daughter just said boobies.

Rafe

Don’t get your panties in a wad. Boobies are great. She didn’t say fuck. Or titties. Or pussy. Or dick. You’re making a mountain out of a melon.

It’s molehill, you jackass.

Rafe

I know. But all this talk about boobies and titties has my mind going to a nice set of melons.

Clark

I will never look at a cantaloupe the same again.

Archer

middle finger emoji

Relax, Archer. You’re doing a great job. She’s got to call her parts something, right? Boobies is better than the alternative.

Rafe

Agreed. You’re overreacting. It’s not a big deal.

Clark

Why don’t you ask Emerson what to call them? She’s a doctor.

For fuck’s sake. You don’t need to ask a doctor what to call boobies.

Archer

I’m in over my head lately. I just taught myself how to French braid her hair because some pain-in-the-ass kid at camp wears these fancy fucking braids every day, and Melody keeps pointing them out to me. This parenting gig is no joke.

Rafe

Dude. I love a good French braid. Did you watch YouTube videos?

Archer

The fuck are you talking about?

Rafe

Remember Susie Jolly? I dated her sophomore year of college. She had long blonde hair and would ask me to braid her hair all the time. She showed me a few YouTube videos.

Clark

I don’t remember you knowing how to braid hair.

Rafe

I didn’t say I figured it out. Just that I watched the videos. Good for you, Archie.

Archer

Thanks for that NOT helpful tip.

Bridger

Can’t you ask your nanny to braid her hair?

Archer

Mrs. Dowden has arthritis. She can’t move her fingers that easily.

Rafe

That’s because Mrs. Doubtfire is a hundred and seven years old. Hire a young, hot nanny like every other single dad raising a kid on their own would do.

Axel

Mrs. Doubtfire. head exploding emoji

Rafe

She dresses like the dude in the movie. And she’s too old.

Archer

She’s hardly a hundred and seven years old. She’s eighty-two, and she counts on that income.

I have to agree with Rafe. Dotty Dowden is a lovely woman, but when I stopped by your house the other day when you asked me to check on Melody, she had me make her a cup of tea and walk her to the bathroom. She can’t handle a toddler.

Axel

You had me stop by last week to check on Melody, too. What’s the deal with that?

Archer

Sometimes Mrs. Dowden doesn’t answer the phone, and I just want to make sure everything is okay.

Bridger

Dude.

Rafe

Were you going to say something more, Bridger? Or just the single word is all we get.

Bridger

It’s time to let her go.

Agreed. She’s got her husband, and she’s got retirement. She’s fine. Melody is more active now. You need someone younger and more active.

Archer

I know. I’ll talk to her and start putting my feelers out.

You’re doing a good job, Arch.

Rafe

Does anyone else notice that Easton is much softer now that he’s in love?

Bridger

Yes. He’s a big, fat pussy now.

Clark

Agreed. He refuses to let Henley go out with us on the annual river day. She told me she wants to come with us.

I’ve taken her out two more times. Why are you pushing this?

Rafe

Dude. She wants to go. She talked about it at Sunday dinner AGAIN. She’ll be fine. She’s smart and athletic. Stop being an overbearing dick.

Archer

I usually have your back, but I agree on this one. She’d be fine. We’d all look out for her.

Axel

Rafe is more of a risk than Henley. He screams like a little girl every year. But for real, E, you’re the one manning the boat. She’d be fine.

Stop bringing it up. You’re pissing me off. I’ve got to go. I have a meeting.

I turned my phone off and pulled the front door open to Dr. Langford’s office. I’d continued seeing her every other week since I’d started coming back around the time of my birthday.

Her assistant greeted me and walked me down to her office. I sat on the couch across from her, just like I always did.

“Easton, it’s nice to see you. How are you doing?” she asked. She was in her mid-forties. She wore glasses and had that soothing therapist voice like you’d see in movies.

“I’m well. I’ve got a meeting to get to from here, so I can’t go over an hour today.”

She loved to go over the allotted time. I was sticking to my commitment to come, but I didn’t need more than an hour.

I was a busy man, after all.

And I sort of hated therapy.

But for whatever reason, I felt like it was good for me. She’d been the one to help me realize that I was crazy about Henley. She’d helped me through my grief years ago and again recently.

There were things that I couldn’t talk to my family about, or even Henley, that I could talk to Dr. Langford about.

“Did you take Henley back out on the river?”

Here we go.

It was the topic I couldn’t speak to anyone else about. This irrational fear I had about the woman I loved getting hurt.

Not on a daily basis, just with things that I knew were dangerous.

River rafting is dangerous.

I knew this because I spent many years of my life doing it.

Was it too much to ask that she didn’t try a challenging pass on the river?

Jamison Waterman is dangerous.

He’d attacked her at the hotel.

So I called every fucking morning to make sure that he was still in treatment.

“I did. She’s determined to do all the river runs now. And she wants to go on the annual river rafting run. It’s ridiculous.”

“You were a guide for many years. You go out with your family every year, and you yourself go out on the water often. Why wouldn’t you be comfortable with her joining in?” she asked.

“I don’t really have the answer, Dr. Langford. I’m guessing because she didn’t grow up on the river.” I shrugged, reaching for my water bottle to take a sip.

“So everyone who goes river rafting has to have grown up on the water?”

Dr. Langford loved to poke the bear with her condescending questions.

She already knew the answer. She was just fucking with me.

“Obviously not. But I don’t give a shit about everyone else. My concern is Henley.” I let out a frustrated breath. “And today, I actually have something I want to discuss with you that has nothing to do with going out on the river.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Is there a rule about moving in with someone? Like a specific timeline you need to follow?”

She chuckled as if I was hilarious, and nothing about what I was asking was funny. “Not everything has rules, Easton. Are you thinking about asking Henley to move in with you?”

“Well, we spend every night together, and I like it that way. So I was going to ask her this morning, but I thought I’d better ask you first in case the idea is offensive. We’ve only known one another for four months, and I always thought you needed to know someone for years before you shacked up. But I love her. I want her with me all the time. So it’s silly to have two homes.”

“I don’t think any woman would be offended to be asked, but it’s up to her if she feels ready or not. And I do think that you have to work through some of these—complications that are coming up for you before you take the next step.”

“What complications?” I asked.

“Well, the fact that you call a rehab center every single morning to make sure that your coworker is still there. The fact that you have an abnormal amount of anxiety about Henley going out on the river, even though you would be right there with her.”

“Wow. Abnormal is a harsh word, Dr. Langford. I thought that this was a judgment-free zone.” I quirked a brow, and she chuckled.

“It is, Easton. And I’m not trying to be harsh. But you’ve got to deal with these things before you take things to the next level, because they won’t just suddenly go away.”

“Listen. It’s not rocket science. I lost my girlfriend in a car accident many years ago. I haven’t dated since. I had no desire to date before I met Henley. And now I meet the love of my life, and sure, there’s some anxiety when it comes to high-risk sports. I don’t have a problem with her playing pickleball, do I? I think you’re making a big deal out of something that is not that big of a deal. I love her. I want to keep her safe. It’s as simple as that.”

She studied me. “I bet you’re a brilliant attorney.”

“I like to think so.”

“You aren’t going to school me on my livelihood, Easton. And you can justify this to everyone in your life if you want to, and they’ll probably buy it. You make a good point. But you’re trained to make a good point, aren’t you?”

“Sure. But I’m not making a point. I’m speaking the truth. You’re trying to make this deeper than it is.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and I promise you, deep-rooted fear does not just go away. You’re managing your feelings right now, but all of this will eventually come to the surface. I’m trying to bring you there before you take things too far.”

I shook my head and chuckled, but it wasn’t genuine. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s really fine, Dr. Langford.”

“Are you having nightmares?”

“No. I’ve been sleeping well.” The lie slipped easily from my lips. The nightmares weren’t bad, and I’d only had a few. I hadn’t had them in years, but I’d woken up in a cold sweat a few times over the last few weeks while Henley slept beside me.

The nightmares were manageable.

Just basic shit, like seeing her in a car accident.

Seeing her falling from a raft and floating down the river.

Running toward her and never reaching her.

You know, the basics of any horrible nightmare. But I sure as shit wasn’t going to tell Dr. Freud any of that for fear she’d have me committed.

They weren’t a big deal. Henley hadn’t heard me wake up. I’d slipped out of bed and paced around the house for a bit until I got tired again and was able to get back to sleep.

Shit happens. Everything does not need to be analyzed.

“All right.” She clasped her hands together. “Listen, I’m on your side, Easton.”

It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.

“I appreciate that.”

“I think the fact that you told Henley that you loved her—that you admitted your feelings—is huge. It’s taken you a long time to get here. But with that comes some of the underlying fears. And you need to work through those as they arise so they don’t become bigger issues later.” She took a sip of her water, and her gaze locked with mine. “I think asking her to move in with you is a lovely idea.”

“Great. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“However”—she held up her hand to stop me from gloating—“if you are feeling irrationally nervous about her going on the river with your family or anxious about your coworker getting out of rehab early or you start experiencing nightmares again, I urge you to speak to someone. If it’s not me, talk to Henley about it. Talk to Emerson. Don’t hide from it, because it won’t just go away, Easton. And if you want a future with this woman, one that includes marriage and children, those fears will only grow deeper the more you invest into building your family with her.”

“I’m just asking her to move in with me, Doc. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

The thought of children caused my collar to tighten around my neck, and I unbuttoned a button.

Kids were a whole other level of risk. The shit me and my siblings and cousins got into could give any grown adult an ulcer.

“You deserve to be happy, Easton. And what you went through wasn’t fair,” she said, waiting for me to meet her gaze. “But it doesn’t mean it will happen again. Sometimes life is unfair. It doesn’t mean it will always be unfair. Jilly was in a horrible accident. That does not mean that Henley will suffer the same fate.”

“I’m aware.” I cleared my throat because the topic was starting to piss me off.

My neck was sweating.

My hands were sweating.

I was working hard to control my breathing.

My head started buzzing, and I couldn’t make out the words Dr. Langford was saying to me.

She was standing in front of me now.

I was gasping and nauseous, and I pushed to my feet and ran to the bathroom in her office, barely closing the door before I vomited several times into the toilet.

Fuck me.

I heaved multiple times before sitting on the floor for a few beats and catching my breath.

I pushed to stand and went to the sink to splash some cold water on my face. After I rinsed my mouth and washed my hands, I walked back into her office.

She was looking at me with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Of course. I had tuna for lunch, and it clearly didn’t sit well.”

“Easton. That wasn’t the tuna. That wasn’t anything that you ate. That was a panic attack. How often are you having them?”

I scrubbed a hand down my face and glanced down at my phone to see the time.

I had a meeting, and I needed to get back to the office. “You worry too much. It’s a stomach bug. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

But I would most likely cancel that meeting.

Because Dr. Langford wanted to make me her science project, and I wasn’t down with that.

I was fine.

All of this would pass.

I’d overcome worse, and this would be no different.