Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

EASTON

W aking up is a process. It hurts, and honestly, I’d rather not. It takes several tries for my eyes to stay open; the fog threatens to pull me back under if I can’t force them too wide. Something hurts, like really hurts. Taking inventory on what is wrong with my body isn’t new to me, but I’m certainly a bit out of practice. But the pain is how I know that I need to wake up, need to figure out what happened because it can always get worse.

Cold. So very cold. My vision is hazy, but I think I’m on the floor of a bathroom. Dumped here, so I don’t make as much of a mess, I’d guess. I groan as my stomach tries to revolt. My hand covers my mouth as I gag, but I haven’t eaten in so long that there’s nothing left in it.

Come on, get it together, I chastise myself. This isn’t safe, I can feel it all the way down to my bones. The alarm bells going off in my head are deafening, drowning out one of the more reliable ways for me to sus out what’s going on.

After a few deep breaths, I’m able to grit my teeth and prop myself up into a semi-sitting position. My skin is frozen, that much I know. Not very helpful. Focus, every detail matters. It’s bright enough to sear my eyeballs, which is not ideal for the pounding headache rattling my skull.

Hey, that’s new. It’s my head that’s causing me the most issues it seems. Much slower than I’d like, but I am getting there. Once my eyes start adjusting, colors come back to me first. A large brown blob that starts looking more and more rectangular. Cabinets, my sluggish brain supplies after a few curious blinks.

“No, no, no,” I mutter, hands frantically searching for purchase. “Get up.” It hits me all at once.

Aaron.

The gun.

He must have used it to knock me out so I’d be easier to transport. Transport where, though? Wherever it is, I don’t recognize it. Once I find something to grab onto, I very slowly pull myself to my feet. My joints groan and creak in protest, assuring me I was on the cold hard tile for quite a while.

What kind of person dumps someone with a head injury out on the ground and just leaves them there?

Well, the same kind that causes said head injury, to be fair.

My reflection does not reveal anything positive. He damn sure didn’t pull his punches with this one. An ugly red gash is splitting apart at my temple, and the blood was never cleaned up so it’s staining all down the side of my face and neck. If my shirt wasn’t black, I’m sure it’d look pretty bad too.

Once I manage to get it as clean as I’ll be able to with nothing but warm water and a hand towel, I decide that it’s time to start investigating. Much as I don’t want to see him, I need to find Aaron. Try and feel out if he’s as serious about his threats as what I fear.

The floorboards creak under my feet as I shuffle down the narrow hall, hand on the wall so I stay upright with terror squeezing my ribs more and more with each step. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, but finding him sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper like he’s done every day he didn’t have to rush off to work is certainly not it. Like this is just a normal weekend, more specifically, one of the ones where he lost his temper the night before and graced me with the kindness of a couple extra hours of sleep before demanding my housewifely duties.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks, but I can feel his eyes on me nonetheless. “Well, good morning, doll. Wasn’t sure when you’d be joining me.”

What the fuck does he want me to say to that? Greet him like he didn’t just bash me over the head and kidnap me? Deep breath, hold it, then slowly let it out. Stay alive, I remind myself. That’s the most important thing.

Pride won’t let me fall right back into the path he carved for me in this life, but I somehow manage to force the bite from my tone and sound passably pleasant. “There wasn’t any alcohol in the bathroom. Do you have any I can use for my head? I don’t want it to get infected.” I add after a moment’s hesitation, “Please.”

My captor finally meets my gaze and nods approvingly. “Can’t have you ruining that pretty face now, can we? Try the corner cabinet.”

Once upon a time, in a world of sparkly misleading delusions, butterflies would erupt in my stomach when he called me pretty like that. Probably would have made my entire day. Now, I can see the truth that I dodged for too long. It’s simply a way to manipulate me, make me more malleable to his abuse. Complicit, even.

Unsure what to do with myself after I’ve sanitized my wound, I pull up a seat across from him trying to absorb what little I can from my surroundings. Anything would help. Aaron has made it to the sports section, which means this paper won’t hold his attention for much longer. Best I can tell, we’re in a heavily isolated cabin. No matter how hard I strain my ears, I can’t hear the slightest indication of human life outside these walls.

He doesn’t trust that I’ll stay here, which is fairly reasonable because I would bolt at the first opportunity. But there’s nothing within plain sight that tells me this would be a permanent place for him. None of his important belongings, like his extensive collection of records or the sound system he played them on.

Turns out, loud music covers a multitude of sins when it comes to keeping the neighboring apartments in the dark about his behavior. That was reserved for his more bone-deep rage rather than a day-to-day correction, though.

Aaron carefully folds the paper, sets it down in front of him and regards me in an almost clinical fashion. It sends a shiver rolling down my spine. We are predator and prey, here in this cage but I refuse to let him make me feel weak. I survived his wrath for four years and came out on top. I can do it again, but this time I need to make it permanent.

If he doesn’t want me anymore, he won’t care where I am or who I’m with, and that’s the only hope I have to get back to Chase. Even thinking his name makes my heart ache, but I can’t show Aaron any cracks in my facade that he can exploit. “Why are we here, Aaron?”

The chair creaks as he leans back. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

I repress a sigh. He knows what I mean, but he’s hoping I’ll get scared and back down. Pretend I’m stupid and he’s not an abusive piece of shit. I’ve done it for a long time, but things are different now. “Why am I here? You have a fiancé, and it’s certainly not me.”

Sweat breaks out on my back, knowing he has a gun somewhere here, and he’s never needed one to kill me doesn’t sit well, but I meant it when I said things are different now. I’m different. “It appalls me how na?ve you really are sometimes, doll.”

“Were you expecting much different? I was a child when you asked me out.”

Aaron laughs, an ugly sound that makes my skin crawl. “Always dodging accountability, aren’t you? You threw yourself at me. I saved you, Easton. Or should I have left you homeless, considering even your own parents couldn’t stand to look at you any longer?”

Okay. Ouch. “You still haven’t answered my question.” It’s an effort to keep my voice level when all I want to do is scream about the injustices he’s forced upon me, but I think of Chase and my brother somewhere wondering if I’m alive and I manage it. “I want to know why I’m here. I moved across the country to get away from you, it’s not like that leaves much to the imagination as to the state of our relationship.”

That word tastes foul on my tongue, like betrayal. Boyfriend seems like a sacred term now, once I learned what it should look like. I may have used that word on Aaron before but that’s never what he actually was to me. Captor. Abuser. Child predator. Those better describe him, but I’m not here to fight the losing battle of making him see the error of his ways. I just want to go home.

Aaron’s cold stare, filled with disdain and a specific brand of evil that I’m all too familiar with is unrelenting. “Your mistake is thinking I’d allow you to cut and run, doll. I’ve put in far too much work with you for that. I’ve given you finery that you never would have experienced otherwise, and you thought I wouldn’t hunt you down when you disappeared like a rat? You always have been exceedingly ungrateful for what I’ve done for you, but this is a new low, Easton.”

Done for me? What about done to me ?

I have got to shut this anger off, it’s going to get me killed; I just know it.

I settle myself with a deep breath. “I am grateful. I know you’ve worked hard, and I’m not trying to make you think otherwise. However, I saw you get engaged to another man, Aaron. You got down on one knee, gave someone else a ring, and he said yes. Where do I fit into this equation? Be his brother-husband and you bounce in between places? Or were you planning on moving us into the same place to save some time on your commute?”

He sneers, put off by my newfound backbone, but there’s no way he doesn’t know on some level that this is ridiculous. “I’m done doing this back and forth with you. You know what will happen to your little boy toy if you leave, so please feel free to do so. I’d love nothing more. These are your options; fall back in line and behave or walk out that door right now and I’ll bury a bullet in that circus freak’s skull before you can make it to the highway.”

Knowing it was coming doesn’t cushion the impact of his words. My eyes burn with tears I can’t shed. But then he digs in the knife. “Don’t worry, doll. It’s not like anyone will be missing you. I left a note so they won’t waste time searching for you this time.”

The truth shines brightly in his eyes, smashing any hopes that he’s lying. This is it for me. Chase won’t look for me, and I can’t leave. There’s no way out.

~~~

Chase

It’s late by the time I make it back home, hands aching from the white knuckle grip I’ve had on the steering wheel since I got in my car. Try as I might to convince myself that I got the wrong idea, when I see Brady with his head in his hands on my front step, I just know. Easton is gone, gone. Not blowing off steam, not passed out asleep or caught up in his sketchbook. Just gone.

It’s fine. He’s free to leave, I was never holding him hostage. It was too much, too fast. That has to be it. I almost told him I love him. I thought he felt the same. The stress of Mom’s situation obviously pushed him past his limits and made him say something he regrets. We shouldn’t have labeled it, I could have just let it go when he said what he did. But I didn’t and now he’s gone.

Didn’t even wait so he could tell me to my face.

Did he think I’d try and force him to stay? Does he believe I’m the same as his ex?

Fuck, even the thought of that makes my stomach churn.

Brady looks at me pleadingly as I approach. “Are you mad at me?”

God, he’s perfected the kicked puppy look like no one else. Truthfully, I’m not. I’m mad at myself for not seeing that there was a problem and for fucking up with my once in a lifetime chance at forever. “No.”

He lets out a heavy breath. “Good, because I need you to hear me out.”

“I can’t, Brady. He left. It’s fine.” He makes a frustrated noise and shoves a scrap of paper at me. Well, he left a note. That makes it all better. Now I have something to look back on when my self-hatred reaches peak levels as a physical representation of how I fucked up my life.

When I don’t say anything, his frustration grows. “Don’t you see it?” There’s an edge to his voice, like his grip on reality is hanging on my answer.

Awesome. I love pop quizzes that end in insurmountable depression when you inevitably fail. “See what? He said it himself, he made a mistake ever finding us and wants to be left alone. ”

Brady stands suddenly, putting us nose to nose. “I trusted you with him, you should know him better than that.”

The bite in his words makes me wince. The reminder that he never faltered in supporting me and his little brother getting together and I still let him down is not a fun one. “Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

He growls like a feral animal, I just push past him because I’m not current on my rabies vaccines. “You didn’t even look at the fucking note, Chase. Maybe if you read it, you’ll pull your head out of your ass.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, taking the damn thing from him again and throwing my keys and bag in the general vicinity of the couch.

Dear Chase,

I made a mistake coming here, and allowing us to continue in this facade is unfair to you. This is what is best, even if it doesn’t seem that way. Don’t look for me, I don’t want to be found.

With sincerest apologies,

Easton.

“What the fuck are you going on about, dude? I don’t get it.” I huff, exasperating by having to reread that bullshit for no goddamn reason.

His face is so red with fury, for a moment I think he’s going to hit me. His molars are grinding so hard, I’m surprised I can’t hear it. “Since when does my brother talk like that?”

Look, I’m not afraid to admit to being dumb, but I really think I’m not here. “Brady, I know this is hard, but you’re grasping at straws. Sure, it’s a little formal sounding, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

Exhaustion weighs heavily on my shoulders, the kind that sleep won’t fix. My mom is still hospitalized after she almost died, and I got dumped. I think I’m allowed a pass if I skip holding Brady’s hand and walking him through this just once. He can argue with himself, I’m tapping out so I can allow the vast emptiness threatening to engulf my consciousness to have its way with me.

Just when I think I’ll have my wish, a weight thumps down next to me and sighs heavily. Unfortunately, the weight also talks. How much bad luck can one guy have? “You really think he just left like this?”

“Yes, Brady. That’s what he said and I believe him. Is his stuff inside? Anything to indicate that something terrible happened?”

He makes a soft sound, so heartbroken it makes my closed eyes sting. “No, but he didn’t say goodbye. Not even to me.”

My throat constricts well past the point of uncomfortableness. “Nope,” I say simply. The bitterness I expect to feel doesn’t come. My heart won’t allow it, not where Easton is concerned. Even shattered, it is incapable of feeling anything remotely negative about him.

I just wish I knew why.

“What are we supposed to do, Ace?” he asks in a helpless whisper.

Still, I can’t face him. Seeing his heartbreak would destroy me, and I’d much rather be numb. It’s easier that way. “I don’t know,” I force out around the lump in my throat. “I really don’t.”

Much as I wish it wouldn’t, the sun will rise tomorrow and the world will keep moving. There won’t be any charcoal stained fingers or pillows stripped from their covers in the middle of the night. No warm body curled into mine as I sip my coffee in the morning. So really, what’s the point now? What am I supposed to do now? Pretend I didn’t have something magical? Force myself forward in a dull gray world after I saw the beauty of color?

I guess I don’t have a choice.