Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

EASTON

T he presents sitting on Chase’s dining room table are mocking me, I’m sure of it. They follow me as I move around the house, trying to make it feel less empty. He’s only at work, there’s no reason to miss his absence this severely. After all, I used to love it when he was at work. It was the only time I could take a deep breath. But when Chase is gone, it’s not like I’m going to fall to pieces or anything, everything is drastically less enjoyable, though. I’m bored without him, he’s my favorite person to talk to and be around. Even when he’s not here, I can still see the evidence that he cares all over the place. He always keeps the coffee warm for me, leaves meals and snacks all ready for me to eat. I tried bringing it up, wanting to assure him that he doesn’t have to do that for me. If I get carried away and forget food, it’s no one’s fault but my own. He only shrugged and said I like doing it and that was that.

Honestly, this can’t be normal, can it? I used to do all the cooking for him, but it damn sure was not because I liked it. But there’s no ignoring the way it makes my stomach swoop when I open the fridge to get creamer in the mornings and see the things he’s made for me. And I’m not going to lie, it’s been nice that I’m eating enough that I’m not getting lightheaded anymore.

But Chase won’t be home for another few hours. He’s picking me up to go to the bar with his coworkers. It’s weird. He doesn’t act embarrassed about being seen with me if I’m not perfectly presentable. He’s actually excited for me to meet his friends and get out of the house together. Very weird, or unusual I guess, but also ridiculously cute.

I came in here to get a snack, but somehow ended up in a staring contest with a pile of presents. Call me materialistic, but I love getting gifts. It was what originally attracted me to him. Maybe it was years of getting stuff that was clearly bought last minute and without consideration for the things I might enjoy, but when shiny things started being dangled in front of me, I snatched them up like a magpie and called it true love.

These don’t feel the same, not that I can put my finger on why. After slathering my last apple slice in cookie butter and downing it in one bite, I decide to go for it. No one’s here and they’ve sat there unmoving for days already. It’s time. I start with the smallest first, the envelopes with little dancing Santa’s on them. Unsurprisingly, but no less significant, they’re gift cards. There’s a fair few of them and when I add up the total, a lump forms in my throat. Definitely the right choice to do this alone, then.

I can get my G.E.D. with this, I think absently. My single biggest regret some would assume is the whole disaster of a relationship that had me running across the country to people I wasn’t even sure liked me, but no, it’s that I had to drop out and never got the diploma that allowed me to check that tiny, haunting box on job applications that says I finished the minimum required education for any real path forward. Well, that’s not entirely fair. I’m sure there’s plenty of people that lead happy and successful lives without the equivalent of a high school education. I’m just not one of them.

Picturing my future beyond the day-to-day has been next to impossible when I just wanted to survive. But now… I’m safe, aren’t I? Chase hasn’t once threatened to kick me out, though it is early, I don’t really see him doing that. So if I can do this one thing to help my future self out, maybe I could manage more and more. Maybe one day… Who knows what’s possible?

My hand hovers over the boxes, unsure which to open next. I decide to pluck one at random, and tear it open. But once I see the contents, I don’t stop until there’s a pile of wrapping paper at my feet and all the gifts lay bare before me.

It’s been no secret that my feelings about the Adlers are complicated at best. Their generosity and open arms hit me like whiplash. It was overwhelming, confusing, and simultaneously wonderful. But seeing it all laid out in front of me like this is more than my neglected heart can take.

There’s a new phone and tablet but those are the minor league gifts. There’s also several leather-bound sketchbooks, a variety of gloriously vibrant watercolors and a set of Kolinsky paintbrushes. I pick up the closest thing to me, a burgundy red sketchbook with my name engraved on the front, and clutch it to my chest like a well-loved stuffed animal. Tears fall freely from my closed eyes as my chest constricts painfully. Never, not once in my almost twenty-one years of life have I ever seen such amazing things, much less that they’re mine. How did they even know…

Chase. He must have told them.

When I got kicked out, it was like this huge part of me went into hibernation to save room for survival. It was like a phantom feeling, the twitch in my fingers itching for paint when I saw a cotton candy sunset or the trees started to turn in the fall. Nothing I ever gave a full thought to, just a wistful desire that was easily brushed aside. I brought it up once, after the newness wore off of living with my boyfriend. My rose-colored glasses were still firmly in place, of course, but I was getting bored being left at home alone all day. All I asked was what he’d think if I bought some minor stuff to help keep me busy.

That was a really fucking bad day, and I never brought it up again. To hell with it, as far as I cared. It was nothing in comparison to laying on the bathroom floor unable to move.

The word artist is uncomfortable for me to think about. It’s not a word I’ve used to describe myself in years, and even then, it felt like a stretch. The only person to use that word in reference to me besides my art teacher was Brady. But that was a long time ago. That was before finding out the hard way that the real world hurt. Before realizing that I’m nothing special because I liked to draw, there are plenty of people more talented than I ever was. More creative, more unique perspective. And that was before I got rusty from lack of use. No doubt my hand has forgotten how to even hold a brush these days.

It stings, being unsure if I’m worthy of my passion. This was always my one thing. If I had to sit through a sermon that had sweat rolling down my back or Dad caught a mannerism that was a little too feminine, I had this to comfort me. Filling the walls with whimsical creations gave me the ability to exist in a fantasy world, somewhere that I fit in. That’s all I ever wanted.

A fissure is being ripped open somewhere inside me that allowed years of carefully packed away insecurities and pain to flow freely to the surface. It fucking burns. My fingers search for the physical wound, nothing internal should feel like this. It’s just some goddamn art supplies, for fuck’s sake .

“Make it stop,” I murmur into the leather. The pages inside are my oldest friends, but they don’t hear my cries anymore.

~~~

Chase

If Marianne wasn’t married, I might try to throw my name in the hat for the hell of it. Lack of sexual interest couldn’t be that much of a deal-breaker, could it?

Nah, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I’m already in too deep with my sweet Chaos to go back in the closet now.

But either way, she’s a fucking saint living among us. My love may or may not be traced back to getting off early today because she said it was dumb to start a new project on a Friday afternoon, but I’m a simple man. I can’t be blamed.

Plus, it means I won’t be late for burgers tonight since I was going to be the only one going home first. A win-win, if you will.

Needless to say, I’m in a damn good mood when I walk through my front door. After hanging my keys up and ditching my shoes, I’m on the hunt. Coming home to Easton is the best part of my day. I know he’s still having a hard time, but it’s also not keeping him from running up to me like he wants a kiss then getting shy about it. Cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I swear.

He’s not in the living room or kitchen, though, which is a little strange, but I brush it off. He doesn’t have to stick to the same routine every day. A breath I don’t realize I am holding releases from my lungs when I walk into my bedroom and hear the shower running. Of course, he’s getting ready, thinking I’m not due home for a while. My phone buzzes in my palm so I decide to leave Easton to his shower and go out in the living room to see what the hell my brother wants.

“Hey, Park.”

It’s fucking windy in Chicago today, or he’s got the doors off his Jeep and I’m subjected to the torture of being on his bluetooth while he drives. “Hey, big bro. How’s things?”

Parker never just calls to see how things are. That’s what Logan does. I’ll bet my life savings he’s calling me with some dumb fact or hair-brained idea. “Things are good…” I start, hoping he’ll jump in with whatever he called about.

“Good, good. Work?”

We’re taking the scenic route to the point today. “Work’s great, no complaints.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says truthfully. “I was thinking…”

Yep, there it is. “Don’t sprain something.”

He snorts. “You’re hilarious. Anyway, about my trip…” Oh fuck, I totally didn’t forget about that. “There’s a concert in town I got tickets for, why not, you know? Seems more believable to my girlfriend if I don’t go just to hang around your house all day.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to be bored,” I tease.

The sarcasm flies right over his pretty little head. “Exactly. But I only managed to snag two. I was thinking about asking Easton. He seems like he could use a fun night out.”

My throat constricted at that. After coughing to clear it, I say, “Yeah, that would be really nice of you. You can text him and ask if he’d be interested.”

“I will, I just wanted to see what you’d think first.”

This kid could annoy me every day for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. “Who’s performing?” I asked lightly. I’d be the first to admit I wasn’t an expert on Easton’s taste in music, but Parker’s was as wide a range as it comes so it could be anything with him.

“Need-to-know basis, Chase. Need-to-know.”

Typical. “Fine. See what he says about it.”

I can picture his delighted grin so clearly in my mind. Hat backwards, sun shining and his mega-watt, toothpaste commercial worthy smile. “Kayyyy, bye. Love you!”

“Love you too, brat. See you soon.”

Before ending the call, he shouts excitedly, “Can’t wait!”

Looking up, I see Easton hovering in the hallway and my heart trips over itself. “Hey, Chaos. Come here.” My arms open for him and he doesn’t resist taking me up on the offer. What worries me is how much I’m starting to need this connection with him. It started out as me trying to comfort him, but it’s evolving into something much stronger.

After almost a full minute of no words being exchanged, just soaking up the contact and plenty of back rubs for him, he peeks those pretty eyes up at me. “Who was that on the phone? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” The apology is clear in his tone, and I don’t like it.

“Easton, you live here. If it was that private, I would have made more of an effort to not be overheard. Please don’t feel like you need to tip-toe around here just because I take a phone call.” I hold his gaze until he finally nods before continuing. “It was Parker. He has something he wants to talk to you about and wanted my opinion on if it was a good idea.”

That certainly piques his curiosity. He leans back just enough to blink at me, confused and definitely interested. “What on earth would he want to talk to me about?”

I’m tempted to tell him, if nothing else so he doesn’t feel ambushed, but I have to trust him to handle himself. Parker is a good person to say no to if he doesn’t want to go. “I’ll let him tell you, but it’s nothing bad. He just wants to do something with you when he comes up in a couple weeks.”

That damn bunny nose is going to be the death of me, I know it. “He wants to hang out… Like with just me? But he doesn’t know me.”

He really doesn’t know how much we all wanted to find him over the last four years. The urge to tell him is pulling at me like a riptide, but there’s something in his eyes that holds me back. Some… profound sadness maybe? Something’s wrong with him. Either I somehow ended up with a direct line to his emotions or he’s not nearly as good at hiding them as he thinks he is.

“He wants to. And for what it’s worth, I think you should try to let him.” He offers me a dimpled half-smile, so I take that as confirmation enough that he’ll try. “Hey, how was your day? You look kinda sad.”

That adorable smile falls as he steps back like I burned him. “Fine,” he rushes out. “My day was fine. Nothing notable at all.” He tries to reassure me, but the same look that he was just wearing falls short, looking more like a grimace.

Don’t push. Don’t push. I find myself nodding. “Okay. You know you can talk to me, right?” It seems pointless to say. Sometimes, he gives me more than he does anyone else, and trusts me. Sometimes, I can tell he’s holding stuff back that’s trying to come to the surface. It’s not like I’m entitled to know everything, I know that. But it sucks to see him clam up when I’ve seen how much better he feels when he talks it out.

“I know.”

That’s all I can ask for. Call it needless worry, but I’m almost positive he’s got a downer coming his way. There’s been too much stress, and putting on a good front, and meeting new people. He’s been trying so hard just to make it through, but it’s draining him. It’s a fine line to balance, trying to see when he’s had too much while hoping he is aware enough of his limitations to tell me in case I get it wrong.

Maybe I’m hoping too much. It’s hard to fully understand where his head is at when it comes to his mental health. It was taboo in his childhood to discuss things like that. Brady told me about it, said that their church believed it meant you weren’t praying hard enough if you were experiencing depression or other mental health struggles. So I know he could never talk to his parents about it, or being gay. Neither of which I can relate to at all.

I’ll be the first to admit, my family has never been perfect, but at least they didn’t expose us to stuff like that. We always knew we were loved no matter what, and mental health is often a topic of discussion. That, plus the stuff I learned in college, gives me a lot more language to use that he just doesn’t have. He probably needs a therapist, but how do you tell someone that without sounding like an asshole?

WWLD? Well, I have no fucking clue. And it’s not like I can ask because she’ll see through me in an instant with her oldest sister spyware goggles. So, I do the only thing I can think to do; take him at his word, and pretend I don’t notice that his fingers are swollen and bloody because he’s been tearing at the skin around his nails again.