Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

EASTON

N ot to brag or anything, but I have really been nailing the whole boyfriend thing over the last few days. I finally kicked whatever the hell bug I had, and Aaron forgave me. I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

He told me I was doing good and it feels great to please him. Today, I have an extra pep in my step. More excited than I’ve been in a long time. Aaron has some out-of-town business so he’ll be gone for a few days, but he isn’t due to leave for the airport for another couple of hours. He had to go into the office this morning, so I am going to surprise him with lunch and a coffee.

I carefully pack everything up, dress in the jeans that he says make my ass look edible, grab my essentials, and head out the door. It is muggy as a motherfucker outside, but even that doesn’t get me down. Warm summer days come at a cost.

Downtown Boston is always busy, but I don’t mind it. The temperature suggests an iced coffee would be the better option, so I decide to splurge and get Aaron something from the cute place down the street. He is going to be so happy .

The air conditioning blasting me as soon as I open the door is a relief even after a few minutes of walking. After waiting in line, I order a large iced flat white, bouncing back and forth on the balls on my feet slightly. I leave the change in the tip jar, grab the drink as soon as it’s ready and jog across the street so I can cut through the park. Aaron’s office is just on the other side, so it’s not worth getting a cab.

One thing I love about Boston is that they are not shy about cobblestones and fountains here. The charm it adds, even if they are new, is undeniable. It’s a weekday, so most of the traffic in the park are nannies and small children, but a gay couple sitting on a bench catch my eye, making me slow to a stop. Only one of them is facing me, a guy not much younger than me by the looks of it, and sickeningly in love. His partner is caressing his cheek with one hand and gazing into his eyes.

So romantic.

I used to have that. I have to get it back.

I’m about to get back to it, but then the guy facing away from me dropped down onto one knee. There is no way I am missing this moment, even if these people are strangers. I don’t want to get too close and spoil it for them, but I simply have to see it. My feet are rooted to the cobblestones.

Loving words are exchanged, I can only make out some of them from where I am standing, but it seems like what you would expect. I’m a better man… Can’t wait for our forever… I’ll get a toothache by the end of this, but I have to see it through.

Then the big question.

Will you marry me?

My eyes are a little misty as a resound yes carries across the courtyard. The newly engaged couple embrace, and I drift closer. They are in my way, and I’m going to have to walk past them on my way to my own love .

It also means that I hear with crystal clarity, when upon examining his ring, guy number one exclaims, “I can’t wait to be Mr. Aaron Stephen Murphy.”

No.

NO.

What are the chances?

The earth crumbles beneath my feet, I can’t hear a thing beyond the roaring in my ears. My useless feet can’t even carry me away from my worst nightmare come to life. The closer I look, the worse it gets. I set out that shirt for him last night; it brought out the green of his eyes. The haircut, the watch, the shoes… Everything I could see was painfully familiar.

I just watched my boyfriend get engaged.

The realization is what finally frees me. I run. Past baby strollers and playing dogs. Past the street musicians, and even past the doorman of my building, Randall. Once I start, there is no stopping it. No waiting for the elevator, sixteen floors up had nothing compared to the only thought I am capable of.

Don’t stop.

My hands are shaking so badly, it takes me three tries to open the door. I don’t have the luxury of time here, if I was going to go, I have to do it now. Aaron had told me he’d be gone for a few days, but if he decided he needed to check on me, he’d come back early and try to catch me in the act of whatever he’d decided I was guilty of.

I am so very, very fucked.

Where can I go? One thing is for certain, I’m not welcome back at my parent’s house. Not that I’d ever darken their doorstep again. I’d rather be homeless. But I really fucking do not want that. There are no friends I could crash with, literally every single person in Boston that I know is because of Aaron .

Maybe I can just disappear, and he wouldn’t care. He is going to be busy with his fiancé after all.

Whether or not that's true, the quick kiss as he left for work this morning was the last time he’d see me.

As badly as I wanted answers—how long he’s been cheating on me, who is the other man, was it ever real—a clean break is a gift that I’m not willing to squander.

Just the thought of him finding me before I leave is enough to make me break out in a sweat. The truth is, he terrified me. I can’t do it anymore. The fear of stepping out of line, the way he’d withdraw all his affection if I fucked up, the constant hot and cold. Will he love me today or will I be the worst thing to ever happen to him?

This is my chance, and I have to take it.

I rush to our bedroom—his bedroom now—and grab the first backpack I come across, the one I normally use as a personal item when we travel. What goes into it, I haven’t the slightest idea. I want the essentials, but it is hard to see behind the sickening replay in my head.

I wonder what happens to him if he falls asleep in his clothes…

Part of me wants to stay, try and figure out who this person is and try to warn them. No one else should get hurt because of Aaron Murphy. Self preservation is a hell of a drug though, it keeps me moving when all I want to do is collapse. It is going to get me the hell out of Boston and far, far away from this.

I’m not sure if Antarctica would feel far enough away to allow me to sleep safely at night.

What a fucking depressing thought.

After the random assortment of personal items is packed, I pull out my wallet and discard everything but my identification and the cash Aaron gave me in case I had to tip a delivery driver or something. It’s not a lot, but heaven help me if it’s not enough .

Common sense knocks me over the head like a baseball bat on my way out the door. I pause with my hand on the knob and do a couple of quick google searches. One link leads to another, and I have my only hope of a roof over my head. I scribble the information down on a scrap of paper and shove it in my pocket, clear my search history and throw the phone against the ground as hard as I can for good measure.

It gives a satisfying crack, and that is enough for me.

In the elevator, I use the mirrored surface to try and straighten out my appearance. Randall worried, and the last thing I need is him alerting Aaron that I’m leaving. When I see the older man, it is clear I fucked up once again when I run by him without saying something.

“Mr. Easton, I tried calling. Are you all right?”

Showtime, kids. I gesture for him to follow me, away from the door so we can speak privately. “Hey, Randall. Sorry, my phone was dead, I was expecting a call, so I was in a hurry.”

He knows I’m lying. That much is clear by his furrowed brow. One last tactic, I guess. “Look, you’ve always been so nice to me, but I was wondering if you can keep something between us.”

He nods. “Of course, sir.”

How much to tell him, that is the question. “I saw something I shouldn’t have and decided to cut my losses and take off. But Aaron can’t find out I left.”

His cloudy blue eyes soften. “Will you be going somewhere you’ll be safe?”

My throat tightens. “I hope so, Randall. I really hope so.”

“You remind me a lot of my son, Mr. Easton.”

I sniff. “Is that a bad thing?”

The crinkles around his eyes deepen as he smiles. “Not in the slightest. Sometimes”—he laughs—“that child drives me and his mama crazy. Wants to follow the wind. But his heart is so good, we can never be truly upset with him.”

“I don’t know about that,” I mumble.

He grasps my arm with a firm, warm hand. “I do. Let the wind carry you to better things. Your secret's safe with me.”

I am well and truly crying now. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Even that is unnecessary. Go, before you lose the nerve.”

I swallow thickly and take a step backwards. He nods encouragingly at me, so I turn around and keep going.

Maybe this is a bad idea, but it is the first thing I’ve done for myself in four years, and damn, it feels good. That has to be worth something in the grand scheme of things.

~~~

Chase

“Have I told you that I hate you recently?” I pant as I yank the emergency stop on the machine of death.

Brady, the son of a bitch that he was, clapped me on the back and nearly knocks me on my ass as he cackles. “It’s five miles, Ace. You didn’t die, you damn drama queen.”

My lungs rattle as I try to inhale, bracing my hands on my legs. “I might still die, you piece of shit.”

A man’s dad couldn’t have chest pains anymore without his best friend suddenly guilt tripping him into cardio. My dad was fine. It wasn’t even full cardiac arrest; they called it an episode.

Sure, I was plenty worried when my sister, Logan, called to say mom was taking him to the emergency room, but my fatal mistake was telling Brady. Now, I am certain he’ll never stop buying Brocco Lee for lunch.

And the cardio.

God help me, the cardio .

He’s been absolutely unbearable about it. That stuff is genetic, Ace. You have to take care of yourself, Ace. Blah, blah, blah.

He is even talking about looking into a yoga class we can do after work. There is no way I am surviving this. My dad has unintentionally backed me into a corner that only death can save me from.

I throw back half a bottle of water in a couple of big gulps and glare. “Can we go home now, you damn sadist?”

He laughs. I’m glad someone finds humor in my suffering. I’d rather get run over by a car than do another minute on the treadmill, but at least it got Dr. Brady off my case.

“Yeah, come on. I’m done torturing you for the day.” It is remarkably frustrating that Brady is only mildly worn out by the run, but I am happy enough to be done that I can overlook it. It has been a long day at work, and while we go to the gym afterwards on a regular basis, it’s never to run.

When we make it to the car after we shower and redress in clean clothes, I ask Brady if he wants to swing by a phone store.

“I’ll get to it. We should get home so I can get dinner going.”

His jaw is tight as he grips the steering wheel. I sympathize with him, I really do. He just isn’t ready to lose an avenue for Easton to get in contact with him, even if it wasn’t likely.

Healing came with time, I suppose.

Emerson, my brother, calls on the way to Brady’s, and I am very grateful for something to break the tension. “Hey, Em, what’s up?”

His lively voice fills my ear, bringing on an unexpected pang of homesickness. “Hey. I just left Mom and Dad’s place, so I thought I would call you. Logan said she had gotten busy with the baby so she hadn’t filled you in today. ”

We’re all putting up a good front, I think. Cheery voices and optimistic outlooks are the most common Adler family coping mechanisms, present company excluded. “How’s Dad holding up?”

“He’s good. Tired of being fussed over, as I’m sure you can assume.”

Sounds about right. He worked nights and sacrificed a shit ton of sleep to be the main caretaker for me and my siblings while we were growing up so my mom could pursue her dream of running an art gallery without worrying about her kids being put on the back burner. Being the center of attention is not his thing, to put it mildly. “So, when you say good, what you mean is grumpy.”

Emerson laughs lightly. “Exactly that. He’s getting some follow-up with his regular doctor, but things are looking okay.” By the sounds of the babbling on the other end of the phone, he’s with Logan and Sage. “Mom doesn’t want you to worry, but she did say you should plan a trip home soon.”

Yeah, okay, like there’s nothing alarming about the phrase, don’t worry, but…

“I’ll make it happen. How’s Sage?” Our niece is always the best topic. My oldest sister is the only one of us to have a kid so far, and her daughter is admittedly spoiled rotten. Not that I’d change it. Sage is an angel.

“I’m hanging out with her now. Come here, monkey. Come say hi to Uncle Chase.” I wince as the phone roughly changes hands. She isn’t great with talking on the phone yet, but I’ll take anything I can get. I miss the hell out of that kid.

“Hi, Sage. Are you having fun playing with Uncle Em?”

She shrieks, full of joy and loud enough to almost deafen me. “Playin’ pwincess,” she answers.

Funny, how she can turn my whole mood around. Sage goes on for a while. Some real words and some that I can’t make out, but she’s fun to listen to. Eventually, Emerson takes his phone back, and we say our goodbyes as Brady pulls into his garage.

Seems like he could have used a baby fix too, his body language is way more relaxed than it had been ten minutes ago. Not that I’d ever tell him, but that was a lot of my motivation to make an ongoing effort with my family. He had to give up his entire family in one day, and he needed people and people is something I have in spades. I’d always had a lot of love for them, but it was childish to let our differences cause distance when they are all genuinely amazing people, just more outgoing than me.

That first summer Brady had come home to Chicago with me, they’d effortlessly made him one of the bunch. I didn’t even have to ask; they were excited to include him in the fray. He’d been dragged all over the city by my mom so she could showcase the city’s amazing art scene, Emerson and Parker had taken him to baseball games, he’d been subjected to an ungodly amount of survival TV shows with my dad, including full commentary, and Logan, ever the eldest sister, gave him a safe space to open up when he really needed perspective from someone other than me.

“I’m glad your dad is doing okay,” he says as he gets out of the car. I follow behind as we make our way inside and offer him a quiet, “Me too.”

He doesn’t talk much while he cooks, but I keep him company, parked on a barstool looking over my team’s work schedule, trying to pinpoint when I could swing a quick trip home.

“You going with me?” I ask, flicking my gaze up.

Brady shrugs as he chops various vegetables. “I could go either way. I don’t want to get in the way if you want some one-on-one time with your family, considering the circumstances.”

There is a lot of weight in his tone. I’d get it through his head one of these days that my family is his family. “As if. Logan would string me up by my toes if I showed up without you.” He still doesn’t look convinced, so I have to throw in the trump card. “Plus, you know Sage would be wondering where you are.”

That softens the last of his hesitation. “Yeah, all right. My schedule is a bit easier than yours, so whenever you can squeeze it in, book the tickets.”

Marianne was pretty laid back about time off. As long as projects were getting done, there was a ton of flexibility which came in handy at times like this. I’d leaned into it when Sage was born too, there was no way I was missing that.

A sudden knock on the door surprises both of us, but Brady is knuckle-deep with dinner so I tell him I’ll get it. It’s probably a delivery that needs to be signed for. He’d ordered some furniture recently, so maybe it’s that.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what’s on the other side of that door when I swing it open.

Hollow blue eyes, though no less piercing than I remember. His corn silk hair is disheveled and hanging limply over his scowling expression. He’s taller now, only a few inches shorter than my six-two, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

Easton.