Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

EASTON

C hase doesn’t seem to care if I’m short with him. I’m really trying not to be, but fuck. I can only take so much and I’m so exhausted. If we weren’t in Chicago, I would have already crawled in bed and not gotten out for a long time. But I’m trying so damn hard to keep it together enough so that Chase’s family doesn’t hate me and he doesn’t think I’m a worthless waste of oxygen.

I hate feeling like this. It's like an out-of-body experience. Chase is being so gracious to me, flying me out so I don’t have to be alone in Seattle with Brady, holding me when I’m falling to pieces. He moved me into his home, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to be snippy to him, he’s fucking wonderful.

If I’m being honest with myself, I might admit that if he’s easily pushed away, I’d rather know now. I’m not strong enough to get attached and then lose him when he realizes I’m too much.

Too emotional, too dependent, too worthless. I’ve heard it all, and it’s glaringly obvious at this moment. I couldn’t just eat the fucking eggs like a normal person, instead I had to be a stuck-up asshole. Even while he’s taking time away from his family just for me, I still want more. If he was chatty, maybe I’d be able to stop the barrage of gruesome memories sinking their claws into my ribs.

My excitement is barely contained, threatening to overflow. It’s our two-month anniversary today, so it’s not like it’s a huge milestone, but to me it is. Before I met Aaron, a guy had never even looked at me, now I live with a great guy who loves me. He tells me every single day. I never thought I would have this, not even in my wildest dreams. But that’s what he’s been. A dream.

When I saw him at Delany’s party, I thought he was wayyy out of my league. I mean, he still is, but he wanted me. Wants me, still to this day. He’s so sophisticated and put together, a part of me will never believe he asked me to move in with him after less than a month of dating.

He said he couldn’t live without me, and I almost passed out from forgetting how to breathe.

But it’s been a little over a month of living together and two months since he asked me on our first date and took me back to his place. We’ve barely been away from each other since, unless he’s at work. Which he will be home from any second now, and he’ll see the present I made him.

I tried to get a job, but with no identification, no address, or no high school diploma, I kept getting turned away. If a girl that used to go to my youth group hadn’t seen me in the park and introduced me to her cousin who lives in a tiny place in Tampa with a pullout couch, I’d still be on the streets. But Aaron says I deserve the best he can offer, so he told me not to worry with a job, he’d give me everything I could ever need or want. So getting a gift hadn’t felt right, I’d be making him pay for his own anniversary gift. But there is something I can do that doesn’t cost anything. I can’t wait. There probably should be a frame, but it took me longer to finish than I’d thought, so maybe we can pick one out together. Hang it in our bedroom.

When his key turns the lock, I can’t hold back an embarrassing little squeal. I laid the sketch out on the dining room table so he’ll see it the second he walks in. I’m tucked away beside the refrigerator so that I can see his reaction.

My heart is in my throat as he ambles up and sees what I did. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth so I don’t make any more noise. I watch as he lays three fingers on my sketch to turn it. He barely spares it a second’s inspection before he scoffs and crumbles it in his fist.

Chase’s warm hand on my thigh finally pulls me back to reality. That particular memory stings like a hot branding iron. That was the first time he screamed at me until his voice was hoarse and I fell asleep sobbing while he felt miles away, comfortable and firmly on his side of the bed. My filter sucks around Chase at the best of times and this is certainly not that. Maybe that’s why I can’t stop myself from blurting, “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Pale eyes assess me for a minute before he flicks his blinker on and turns down another street. “Yes. I had a boyfriend in high school,” he answers easily. His tone is careful, but the information is freely given.

“Did y’all ever fight?” I’m on a roll today. Awesome. That’s not usually considered a get to know you question. He can probably see right through me. See just how ugly I am on the inside.

“Umm. Maybe argued a little about what movie to watch or if we were going bowling or skating for a date, but overall no.”

I fucking knew I was the problem. “Oh.”

So caught up in my head, I don’t even notice we pulled into a parking spot until he puts the car in park and turns to face me. “Arguing a bit here and there can be pretty normal. People get frustrated trying to get their point across and all that. I’m the one who’s not good at it. Seems kind of counterproductive most of the time, if you ask me.” He seems hesitant but keeps going. “But if the person you’re sharing your life with can’t respect you, even if they’re mad, that’s where problems start happening.”

My voice is weak, broken. “What if it was my fault we were fighting to begin with?”

It was always my fault. I was the screw-up, new to the adult world and adult relationships. How could he respect me when I could never do anything right?

Chase takes my hand and squeezes. “Sweetheart… I may be way the fuck out of line here, but it seems highly unlikely that you were always at fault. It takes two people to make a relationship work and approach matters.”

I don’t know what he means by that last part, and I don’t even want to ask. I feel like such a fucking moron already. My eyes burn and my throat is painfully tight. I manage a nod, which Chase must deem as acceptable because after one last squeeze, he lets my hand go and gets out. I miss the contact immediately. He rounds the car and opens the passenger side door for me. Numb, I go through the motions with him, wishing with my whole heart that I could be invested.

He takes me out for pizza because I was too good for the home-cooked meal his dad prepared, walks around the neighborhood with me afterwards, showing me where he and his siblings used to frequent because some sunshine will make you feel better .

Fucking annoying thing is that it works a little bit. After half an hour, we make our way back to the car and he drives us home. The afternoon is spent lounging around at his parent’s house. He offers several times to go up to the guest room with me so I can lie down for a bit, but I’m still not in the best headspace. Instead, I just watch him interact, like this is an aquarium exhibit. He bickers with his brothers, snipes playfully with his sister, treats Sage like a little princess and jokes with his parents.

I’m fascinated.

This side of him is entirely new. I feel like Chase and I went about things backwards. We skipped right over the casual stuff, like are you close with your family and what was it like growing up in Chicago and went straight to, hey, I’m barely holding it together and I can’t fucking do this alone anymore . The transition seems easier for him, but I’m the one being flayed open here. What makes it worse is that I like him. Like, really like him. He makes me feel safe and heard and not nearly as crazy as I actually am. He’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on—miles of golden skin decorated with tattoos, easy smiles and eyes that damn near glow in the dark.

The casual little touches are going to drive me insane. It’s always something, especially when he knows I’m having a hard time. A hand on my leg or brushing my hair out of my face, maybe rubbing little circles on my back with his calloused hands. He’s so fucking affectionate, and it might be the best thing in my life. But I have no idea how to read it. If I wasn’t hanging on by a thread, I’d be on my knees in an instant. Hell, maybe even ask if he wants to go on a date. I could do that; date, that is. It might be nice to start fresh.

But instead, I’m not able to go more than six hours without some kind of breakdown that he’s got to hold my hand through. Not exactly romantic.

Hell, he has every single reason to not be interested in me. Not in the slightest. He couldn’t find anything worth a damn in my soul with a microscope.

Seems like Chase would be better off if I didn’t exist, and I could do with some forever sleep .

Sage comes to a sliding stop right in front of me on the couch with a lopsided grin and a gleam in her eye. “Eassin!” she exclaims.

“What’s up, Parsley?”

Chase snorts while Logan sends me an insincere death glare. “You should…” The dramatic storyteller, it seems, leaving me in suspense as to what I should do. “Open your box! I can help!”

Margeaux and Adam wear matching expressions of pure shock, mouths gaping suddenly frozen mid-task. Emerson mutters a curse as Logan rushes over to scoop up her child, looking wildly uncomfortable. I turn to Chase who looks sheepish.

“What does she mean? What box?” I’m thinking she means the small bag with my clothes in it. Maybe she saw it upstairs and wants me to unpack.

Adam clears his throat as he braces his forearms on his knees and looks squarely in my direction. “Lo, take the baby upstairs and put on one of her shows, please.” He doesn’t even glance her way. I’m officially nervous. “Tell me,” I demand.

Scratch that, I’m going to dissolve into a puddle of panic in this fucking basement.

“Look, son,” he begins. Christ on a cracker, why does that hit me square in the chest? “We weren’t sure if now was the right time for this, but well, toddlers.”

Chase pushes off the couch, whispers he’ll be right back and jogs up the stairs after Logan. The spike of betrayal that causes is unexpected. Why would he abandon me now? Par for the fucking course.

“When you disappeared, we had no idea if we’d ever be able to find you.” Margeaux comes over to sit by me as she explains, and takes my hand. The gesture is appreciated, but it’s not Chase. “We stayed as optimistic as we could, so every year, we bought birthday and Christmas presents for you in case you showed up. Chase went upstairs to grab ‘em.”

My hands are shaking. Suddenly, I’m wondering if it’s possible for all of them to have been lied to. What fucking elaborate story did my brother weave to these wonderful people? I didn’t disappear; I was thrown out. I’ve never been this furious. The audacity it takes to turn your back on your only brother and then make yourself out to be some kind of victim about it. Chase’s familiar weight settles on my other side before he sets a box at my feet. It’s sealed, so there’s no seeing what’s inside it, but solving that mystery is going to have to wait.

“Call him,” I growl.

Chase is understandably confused. “Who?”

It’s time to fucking settle this. “My brother.”

He doesn’t question me, which I’m grateful for, just dials and passes me the phone. I put it on speakerphone before the call can have the chance to connect. It only rings twice before Brady’s deep voice fills the line.

“Did someone die? Since when do you call people?”

All the resentment and pain I’ve been holding on to for the last four years comes pouring out. “Tell them, you fucking asshole. Tell them I never disappeared. You knew exactly where I was and you left me there. I saw the messages, Brady. As soon as Dad slammed the door behind me, you were an only child. You disowned me! You picked your side, Brady, and it was never me. How could you? How do you sleep at night lying to these people about why you haven’t heard so much as a peep from me?”

I’m panting by the time it’s all out of me. Brady is silent for all of three marvelous seconds as our spectators absorb the truth about the person they thought was one of their own. I was expecting him to yell, scream, call me all kinds of names, but he’s so calm as he speaks. “Eas, I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about. You did disappear. We looked everywhere for you. We searched for days, dude. Chase and I slept in my truck. Mom took your phone, so we had no idea how to get ahold of you. I checked with Aunt Tammy, some kids from your school. No one on the face of the earth knew a damn thing. It’s been like that for years. I didn’t know what happened, I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

“No, you’re lying,” I croak. “Aaron showed me the Instagram messages. He told you that I was okay, and that I wanted to see you. You told him you didn’t have a brother, you said I was dead to you the second you found out I was a—you said I was—” I can’t even get it out, he was so fucking hateful.

Distantly, I’m aware that Adam and Margeaux left, and Chase is left in stunned silence, but it’s all so far away. I’m being drug down into the spiral that his words sent me into when I was sixteen. Scared to death, never been so alone in my life. All I wanted was to see my brother, hear him say he still loved me. Then he turned his back on me. After that, all I had in the world was Aaron. In fact, it was less than a week after he showed me Brady’s vitriol that we moved in together.

He takes a deep breath. “You there, Ace?”

Chase’s voice is hoarse. “Yeah, bud.”

“Easton, I have no idea how we got our wires so crossed about what happened, but if you don’t believe me; ask Chase. Hell, ask anyone in that house how hard I tried to find you. Please, kid. Just come home and talk to me. We can hash it all out. You can call me some more names if it will make you feel better, as long as you just talk to me. Please, Eas.”

There’s desperation in his request, the potent kind that makes you willing to put it all on the line. It doesn’t make sense. He should be scrambling to cover his ass, doing anything to keep everyone from finding out the truth. But instead, he’s pleading with me to hear him out. It’s embarrassing that after all this, I still have a soft spot for him. The tiniest thread that keeps us tied together through, even through all the bitterness I’ve been holding on to. It must be what has my mouth moving without my permission.

“Fine.”

Brady sounds so relieved. “Thank you. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Not that he can hear it, but I nod nonetheless. Seeing him is possibly the worst idea, given my mental state. At least it can’t get much worse, I guess. Chase takes his phone back and says goodbye to Brady, since I seem to be unable to form words anymore. The anger towards my brother is all I have left. My parents were no surprise, they always talked to me differently than their golden child. But I’ve held on to this betrayal for so long, I don’t know who I am without it. If this has a reasonable explanation, I’m not sure I can handle it. Moving forward seems impossible.

My eyes are burning from the exhaustion, or maybe the emotional exertion. Fuck, maybe both.

I can’t do this. I don’t even want to anymore. Each breath I take burns. My nerve endings feel like I walked through a five-alarm fire. Leaving was supposed to fix it, I was being cheated on, so when I got away, surely, I’d stop fucking feeling like this. The wounds are supposed to heal. My skin may not be littered with bruises anymore, but I sure don’t feel any better.

What is even the point if I’m worse off now than when I was being thrown around by the man I loved? How was that not my rock bottom? Maybe I should have stayed and confronted him about what I saw in the park. Sat there passively while he went off the handle. It would have been my fault—either for seeing it or that he was cheating to begin with. He would have gotten so fucking mad; his face would have turned crimson, the vein on his forehead would have been about to burst.

He might have finally gone too far and killed me.