Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

EASTON

I t’s cute how excited Chase is getting as we get closer. He’s trying to play it cool, but he can’t stop smiling. Even if it’s just a small one, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it leave his face. It started as soon as we began our descent into O’Hare and hasn’t left him since. Me, being the idiot I am, I’m completely charmed by it.

We didn’t check a bag, so luckily we don’t have to stand around and wait, just head straight to his family and get out of here. I’ve never really had a problem in crowds before, but there's a sinking feeling deep in my gut that he isn't done with me. It’s making staying out in public harder than I anticipated. I refused to cower; I left. That was the hard part. Now, I’m supposed to live my life in this murky after. But it’s okay, I have Chase now, and things will get easier with time.

I think they will. Surely, they will.

He leads me with an open hand on the small of my back through the throngs of people. Everyone is in a hurry to get somewhere, most of all Chase Adler, but O’Hare is a massive airport and we’re all packed in here like sardines. I can appreciate his attentiveness in making sure we don’t get separated.

“Who is picking us up?”

Chase hums and checks his phone. “Looks like it’s my sister and niece. Lucky us. You’re going to love Sage.”

Dear Heavens above, the way his face lights up when he’s talking about this child is going to do me in. He’s not even my boyfriend, hell, he’s barely my friend. These butterflies in my stomach are misplaced. “How old is she?”

Mentally, I shrug. Might as well continue the torture.

His hand tightens on my back as his grin grows. “Almost three. She’s so smart, the smartest in her class at preschool. Cutest kid ever, on top of it.”

An ear-splitting shriek of joy interrupts his sweet ramblings and Chase’s eyes widen as a ball of glittery pink tulle with pigtails comes running his way with who I’m assuming is her mom close behind. Chase crouches down and swoops the bundle up in his arms, making it burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles while he murmurs about how much he missed her.

He doesn’t even have a chance to get the kid in his arms properly situated before another body slams into him full force. Sage gets shifted to one arm so that he can wrap the other around his sister as she squeezes him around the torso.

The whole reunion is so heartfelt, I can’t decide if I want to linger and hope that some of that familial love seeps over my way or find a reason to back away so I’m not reminded of everything I don’t have.

The decision is made for me when Chase’s niece projectile launches herself sideways in my direction, making me throw my hands out to make sure she doesn’t crack her head open. Chase just laughs, he must have not been as surprised by her gymnastics as I am. He raises a dark brow at me in a question which I answer with a quick nod .

Sage is passed to me with the toothiest cheesing smile on her round face. I could be knocked over with a feather when I get a good look at her and see pale eyes looking back at me. “Remember what we practiced?” Logan gently prompts.

Sage looks between her mom and I quickly, her pigtails swinging wildly. “Oh yeah! Hi, my name is Sage Margeaux Adler, it's nice to meet you.”

She looks back at Logan for confirmation. “Good job, kiddo. The full name was a good touch.”

It was an insanely adorable touch. “Hi, Sage. I’m Easton.”

“Eassin,” she tries.

Chase beams, my throat tightens. “Perfect,” is my strangled reply.

Man, she really dressed up to pick us up from the airport. Fluffy princess dress with matching bows pinned at the top of her sandy blond head. She’s in stark contrast to her mom, who has Cruella DaVile split-dyed hair, at least three facial piercings paired with black lipstick and heavy eyeliner.

God, how my dad would have beat my ass if I’d even tried to pierce something on my face.

“Easton, she can totally walk if you don’t want to carry her around,” Logan says. Sage laces her hands together behind my neck, making it clear what her goal is here.

Chase snorts. “Like she’s ever walked anywhere when one of us is around.”

His hand returns to my back as we try to navigate out of this damn zoo. “That’s the problem, you three spoiling my kid. You know she asked Em to take her to Broadway for her birthday, right? And that jackass is really looking into it.”

When we make it outside, the sun is most of the way set on the horizon leaving overheated concrete and pretty periwinkle skies. Chase and Logan bicker about the pros and cons of a three-year-old going to the Big Apple, and I decide with absolute certainty that my crush is getting out of hand. Four years ago in Florida, I was captivated, watching him be a friend to my brother. I had never seen Brady ever connect with someone like he did with Chase; he had tons of surface level buddies but it was nothing like that.

As it turns out, it had nothing on watching him be a brother and uncle.

Have I said I’m fucked recently? Because I am so very, very fucked.

“Eassin can buckle me,” Sage announces proudly as we come to a sleek black Audi.

Logan rounds the passenger side. “Is that a fact?” she asks her daughter.

It is not a fact but I’m pretty sure I can manage. This kid is putting a lot of faith in me rather quickly, but who am I to judge her process?

With only minor directions from the preschooler, I get her in her car seat safe and sound where she promptly informs me we’re friends so I have to sit with her. Logan insists I can tell her no, but she’s growing on me, so it’s not a hard fight.

My heart rate is finally slowing down now that we’re away from what I’m assuming was the entire population of Illinois in one place. Having a kid attaching herself to me so I don’t feel as out of place is also making a pretty big difference. Chase drives on the way back to his parent’s house while Logan plays DJ, and Sage tells me all about the riveting plot of her favorite dog cartoon in uniquely jumbled English that only a toddler with a brain working faster than their tongue can pull off.

I keep repeating to myself that I’m okay in my head. Chase isn’t upset with me, in fact, I keep accidentally catching his eyes in the rearview mirror and he’s never looked anything but laid-back. Like he took twenty pounds of weight off his shoulders as soon as we touched down. Maybe I wasn’t his problem as much as I liked to think I was.

Maybe the situation can be stressful without him blaming me for it.

Seems kind of optimistic, though.

The Adler’s live about twenty-five minutes from the airport on a cute residential street with nearly identical bungalows packed in about as tightly as they can fit. Ash trees are lined up in front of each house. Chase pulls up in front of a pale yellow one about as decked out in pride flags as it can be. Little progress and trans flags are alternating up the walkway, banners of pride are hung from the overhang porch and rainbow fairy lights are wrapped around the support pillars.

Logan gets Sage out and lets her run loose into the house, shouting for her grammy to come meet her friend. My feet seem to be rooted to the pavement, all I can do is stare, trying to comprehend what having that level of support at home would have been like.

I don’t even notice Chase until he wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “They must love you,” I murmur, eyes stinging.

I feel him nod more than see it. “They do, but they were like this well before I knew I was gay. This has been their same setup every June for my entire life—longer, I would assume, I just haven’t ever asked.”

That makes my chest hurt. It’s not even like they were neutral until their kid came out, he never even had to worry if they would accept him or not because they were so open about being supportive of the whole community.

Is it possible to be incredibly glad that he had that kind of unconditional love, and bitter for myself? If I could talk around the lump in my throat, I’d ask what it was like to not hear the word faggot hissed every time his family saw two boys look at each other wrong.

Good old Daddy Dearest never missed the chance.

An older woman in a flowing floral patterned maxi skirt and twin amber braids that easily reaches the bottom of her ribcage comes rushing out the door and down the seven steps separating her from her child. The whole weekend will probably be like this, all of these people through the roof to see Chase and politely tolerating my presence.

This time, I can’t watch.

Soft, feminine hands envelope mine, making my gaze snap up. She’s beaming at me, and I have no fucking clue how to process it. “We are so glad you’re here, honey. You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for you. Come with me, I want you to meet the rest of the family. I could barely convince them not to rush you on the sidewalk.”

Chase’s eyes are soft and gooey but his tone has a hard edge. “Hi, Mom. Forget about me?”

She gives him a teasing wink. “My darling boy, I have never forgotten your existence once since you were making me sick as a dog every day I was pregnant with you. Easton is our guest and your brothers are about to go crazy waiting on him. I promise to pay you as much attention as you can stand once we make it in the door, my love.”

He laughs, deep in his belly. “You’re a proper nuisance, Mother. You haven’t even had the chance for introductions yet.”

Her mossy green eyes widen comically. “Ohmygoodness, Easton. Please forgive my rudeness, it’s just that I feel I know you already. I forget that it doesn't go both ways. I’m Margeaux.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” I rasp. My manners are still intact amidst my shock, so that’s a point in my favor.

She wags her finger at me. “It took me years to break your brother of that, no one here is old enough to be a ma’am. Margeaux, Mom, or even hey you, works. Just not that.” She shudders to enhance her point.

I’m stuck on the whole mom aspect. Does Brady call her that? What does our mom think? Has he introduced our bigot parents to these seemingly wonderful people?

Also, I could have a mom again?

No. It would be dumb for me to get attached. As soon as Chase realizes how broken I am, he’ll be rid of me and I’ll never see them again, forcing me to grieve the loss of yet another family. I couldn’t do it.

Margeaux tugs me along all the way through a little entryway, Chase close behind, carrying our meager belongings like the gentleman that he is. As promised, a mob of meerkats is just inside the living room off to the right, my new friend included. They’re visibly restraining themselves, which I equal parts appreciate and don’t understand. Logan is there with Sage, along with both of Chase’s brothers. They give me bright, eager smiles, and like she can read their minds, Margeaux gives them a stern, “Behave, boys.”

Chase trails his fingers across the back of neck as he brushes past me. After he’s given each of them a hug and swings Sage back up into his arms, he looks at me. “Easton, this is Parker.” He nods towards one with an impish grin, curly brown hair cut into a stylish fade and emerald eyes. “And this is Emerson.” All three of them have similar builds, broad and muscles that are drool-worthy if the thin shirts stretched over their chests are any indication, but the only real distinction between the younger two of the Adler boys is the hair color. One is a deep chestnut, the other inky black like Chase. Who made all these people ridiculously beautiful? Jesus Christ.

Neither of them are as scorchingly hot as Chase, though. No one else can compare .

“Hi,” I say meekly.

I get two hey, man’s in return, though I can tell they’re still trying not to rush me like half-trained puppies.

Chase looks around. “Where’s Dad?”

Parker answers, “Finishing up on the grill. ‘Bout time you guys got here because we’re fucking starved.”

My feet carry me forward while my mind is stuck in a haze when Chase holds out a hand for me to take. His thumb rubs across the back of my knuckles, effectively grounding me. Sage is talking his ear off about something that I’m not aware enough to absorb, I’m too busy trying to figure out what these people’s deal is. Why do they want me here? I never talked about Chase’s family with him until earlier in the car. I couldn’t tell you a single person’s name besides him. I was living on the east coast for four years without so much as a text from him or my own brother, and suddenly, I’m in Chicago and everyone around me is acting like it’s a family reunion I lost the invitation to.

We go through the dining room and kitchen out to the back deck, where the streetlights are illuminating the yard and mouth-watering scents of burgers fill the air. Chase’s dad is bumping two-thousand’s rap from before I was born from a speaker balanced on the railing and taking patties off the grill and humming to himself.

“Poppy!” Sage squeals, jumping down from her uncle’s hold and taking off again. Damn, this kid is determined to hurt herself. Chase reacts quickly but his dad is faster and secures her again.

She grins sheepishly, well aware that she got a bit ahead of herself, making my body tense expecting harsh words that never come.

Instead, he ruffles her hair, tells her to be careful, and turns his attention to us. “There’s my boy, you made it.”

“Duh. How are you feeling, old man? ”

He glares at his son. “Better watch who you’re calling old, kid. I keep telling everyone I am fine. I can’t help that no one listens to me.”

Chase chuckles. “Whatever you say. I’m glad you’re all right.” He looks over at me, pale eyes full of nothing but encouragement. “Dad, you know Easton.”

Know Easton still doesn’t seem right, but I have a feeling no one will listen to me either. “Nice to meet you,” I say instead.

“It’s about time, son.”

What is with these people? I avert my eyes and find a way out of this conversation. Gaping, I ask, “What the hell is that?”

Almost the entire backyard is taken up by five kiddie pools with tarps connecting the four outer ones, leaving one in the center of a diamond shape. The herd of siblings seems to have filtered out behind us without me noticing. Emerson claps me on the shoulder, jostling me from the force. “Better eat up because you’re in for it now, man. You’re obligated to play at least one game of Break Neck Baseball, and you’ll need your strength.”

I eye the bottle in his hand warily. “Why in the name of all that is Holy does this involve dish soap?”

Oh, how he laughs.