Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

EASTON

T he bed is pretty comfortable, it’s probably the only reason I managed to doze off for a little bit. It isn’t even close to what I need to feel rested, but I’m not picky. The bus ride here was twenty-seven years long, give or take, and there was no way I was sleeping in front of strangers. Any sleep is a step in the right direction, or at least that’s what I tell myself as I rub the grit out of my eyes.

This whole situation sucks, and that’s putting it mildly. The last thing I want is to ever ask my family for charity ever again, then my life exploded and I was left with no other choice. And Brady acted like this was some wonderful homecoming, like this wasn’t my rock bottom and he wasn’t the reason we lost touch.

His mega-hot best friend was another matter entirely. With that fucking way he tended to me, that calm magnetic energy I could get used to real fast if I let myself. Which I can’t. Obviously.

My sanity seems to unravel in his presence, which pisses me the fuck off. I’m holding it together the best I can, but my own brain turning on me and peppering me with flashbacks like I survived ‘Nam or something is not for the faint of heart.

What I’m having the hardest time with is the lack of emotion despite my ending things with the guy I’ve spent the last four years in love with. I was expecting to be torn up about it, but that’s the easiest thing I’ve got going on internally.

The sounds of Chase moving around in the kitchen pull me from bed. Like an addict needing a hit, I’m chasing the oblivion he provides. I shuffle down the hallway until I see him, shirtless with his god-like body and tattoos on full display because the universe hates me. For someone that damn big, he has no reason being so graceful. It’s insulting.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, giving me a mouthwatering view of his— Shit, shit! Did he catch me staring?

“Hey, Chaos,” he drawls. “I didn’t think I’d see you for a while. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Chaos. What does that even mean? Why do I like it? “No, you didn’t,” I admit. That was all he-who-shall-not-be-named managing to haunt me from across the country. Lucky me.

He nods, like he actually cares whether he wakes me up or not. According to the clock on his stove, it’s a little after midnight. I want to ask him why he’s up, but then he might ask me the same and that’s just not a thing that’s happening.

Chase is making a sandwich, causing my stomach to rumble in response. I don’t know if I’m allowed to eat his food. He didn’t like it when I ate things without permission, and I really don’t want to fuck up my new living situation before I can figure out my next step. Plus, with how weird Chase makes my head, there’s a good chance I’ll burst into tears the second he raises his voice at me. That would be embarrassing.

So, I resign myself to watching him, which is really no hardship despite the hunger pangs. He’s got an eat-in kitchen with two stools in front of a cutout window with a pretty dark countertop at the perfect height to prop my elbows on and observe.

And that’s exactly what I do, daydreaming about the what-ifs of Chase Adler while the man himself is in front of me. He’s putting more effort into a sandwich than I would have guessed for a midnight snack. There’s even pesto sitting out on the counter. My mouth waters but I push past it. He seems nice enough, maybe he wouldn’t be mad.

I’m so lost in trying to convince myself to ask if I can make something for myself that a small gasp escapes my lips when he slides a plate in front of me with half a sandwich and some apple slices.

He doesn’t even look at me when he does it, like it’s a reflex more than something he did with an expectation. I should have said I’d stay on Brady’s ugly ass couch, I have no idea how to process Chase being so goddamn nice.

“I can make you something else if you’d like,” he offers when I gape at him for too long.

His pale eyes almost glow in the light, and I suddenly realize he’s being completely serious. “No,” I rush out. “No, it looks good.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“No big deal,” he assures me.

Christ, if he doesn’t think I’m on drugs, he’s definitely going to think I’m an idiot who doesn’t understand social cues. In my defense, I was fine a week ago. Not the bumbling dumbass he reduces me to without even trying. I have no idea what the problem is now. His guess is as good as mine.

The food is so good, I almost moan when I take a bite, and I see Chase’s mouth quirk up at the corner in a small smile. He doesn’t call me out, thankfully, and we eat in a comfortable quiet I haven’t felt in a long time. Chase isn’t trying to pry information out of me, and I know I need to keep my baggage close to my chest so it works. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop, we’re just two people sharing food and trading soft glances back and forth.

When I’ve cleaned my plate, Chase takes it and carries both to the dishwasher. It’s so domestic and normal, a small giggle bursts out of me. I slap my hand over my mouth as my cheeks turn hot enough to fry an egg.

The hottest guy I’ve ever seen is going to have me committed.

Just my luck.

He crosses his arm over his broad chest with amusement in his gaze, and he just looks at me. Waiting me out, I guess. “It’s been a long few days,” I explain.

Chase frowns. “Get some sleep, Easton.”

My stomach sinks. Did I do something wrong? What happened to Chaos? I shouldn’t care, I don’t, actually. “Good night,” I murmur, sliding off my perch with my burning eyes solidly on the ground. He says it too, but it’s barely heard behind the closed door where he can’t see the way he gets to me so easily.

~~~

Chase

I sleep like shit, which is no surprise. It takes me a solid ten minutes of staring at my ceiling contemplating my life choices before I finally get up, and even then, it’s only because Brady will be knocking in, like, half an hour so we can go to work.

There are no signs of life from my houseguest when I come out, dressed and as ready as I’ll manage for work today. I know I fucked up with him somehow yesterday, though the specifics elude me. I was kind of hoping to see him before I left. I scrawl him a quick note and leave it by the coffee maker, telling him when I’ll be home and to help himself to whatever, then grab a granola bar and to-go mug for the road and manage to get out the front door right as Brady pulls out of his driveway.

“You in a hurry today or something?” he asks as I jog up to his car and yank the door open.

Ha. I wouldn’t be leaving Easton alone on his first day here if I didn’t have to, so saying I’m in a hurry for it seems like a stretch. “Just good timing,” I return.

Brady drives off, and I spare one last solemn look in the rearview mirror at my rapidly disappearing house with the lingering feeling that I’m letting Easton down.

“Did he get settled okay?”

I start to tell him about how shaken he’d seemed last night, but it somehow feels too private—which is a bit unusual with my present company. “Yeah, I think so. I didn’t see him before I left.”

“Can you please just tell me if I’m crazy?”

I’m not expecting that. “Like in a general sense or…?”

He huffs. “No, you asshole. I mean, like, am I crazy or does Easton seem a bit… frazzled?”

It is way too soon in the day to psychoanalyze his little brother based on the collective five sentences we’ve gotten out of him in the last twelve hours. “He said that it had been a rough few days, I guess traveling up here or whatever. I’m not sure our limited interactions with him are a good indicator of anything yet, Bray.”

He glares at the road like it’s personally offended him, but we can’t go around assigning random theories about his little brother that are entirely unfounded. So what, the dude runs a little hot and cold. All I know is that I feel stupidly protective of that tiny sliver of vulnerability I saw when he dropped his guard for a minute yesterday .

A call coming through on my phone breaks the uncomfortable silence that was trying to settle over the car ride. When I get a read on the name on my screen, I decide the universe has my back sometimes.

“Hey, Blakely.”

A soft feminine voice answers me, like she’s trying to quiet. “Hi, stranger. I’ve missed you.”

Blakely is the only friend I’ve really kept up with from college. We had the same major and at least a couple of classes together each semester. Like Brady, she just decided we were friends one day, and I never looked back. She travels a lot these days, and it’s hard to nail down a chance to catch up when I'm never sure what time zone she’s in. “Turns out being in a different city every night has downsides, huh?”

She huffs. “The season is getting longer each year, I swear it. All of a sudden, I haven’t been back to Seattle for months. I hate it.” She may say she hates it but the affectionate tone is hard to hide. She may get homesick but she’s living the life most people dream about, and she’s deliriously happy.

“Poor thing. Your ridiculously hot millionaire husband loves you so much he can’t stand to be away from you for long, so he whisks you from city to city so you can be together. Awful. Jesus wept, Blake,” I tease.

She cackles. “Damn you. You’re going to make me wake the baby up.”

Not that I’d say it, but I really do miss that girl. Watching her get everything she was too afraid to want and then some our senior year was incredible, but I still miss having her around. “You in L.A.?”

She may live there, but during the season it’s a glorified post office box. “Yeah, came to see the mini me off to her first day at a new preschool, then back to watch the finals. Which brings me around to my point. I’m sitting here looking at a flight to SeaTac that leaves in two hours, and it gave me the wonderful idea to come hang with you for a few hours until I have to get back to Utah. Thoughts?”

My first one is that I want to tell my friend about all the weird feelings surrounding Brady’s brother and see if she can help me make sense of them, but seeing as he’s next to me, I say my second out loud. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

If nothing else, Blakely Ellison is a hell of a buffer, and I’m not afraid to use that for my benefit. She squeals excitedly; I guess no longer concerned if she wakes her niece up. “Yay! I was hoping you’d be down for a quick turnaround because otherwise it would be, like, August before we could get together, and that’s just too depressing.”

“Yes, I’m sure whatever luxurious vacation you have planned for this summer is sooo depressing.”

She sucks her teeth in mock outrage. “Chase, I thought you knew me better than that. Me? Planning a vacation? No way!”

Well, she has me there. Her husband plans out a summer of pampering her every year to show his appreciation for her dealing with his crazy schedule during the season. Not that she holds it over him, they’re just so obnoxiously in love, I’m pretty sure it’s just an excuse for him to do something extravagant for her. “You’re right. Buy the ticket. See you soon, Blake.”

She says the same, and I hang up and spare a glance at the ball of tension on the driver’s seat. “Say whatever it is on your mind, Bray.”

“Nothing,” he grunts.

Liar. I say as much and he whips his head around at me. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m just going to have to cut out early and take you to your car, and I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“Bullshit. I can get a rideshare if it’s that much of a problem and you know I wouldn’t even think twice about it. What is it really? ”

Brady and I do not argue, he always says exactly what he thinks. Sometimes it’s clumsy, and I have to patch his rampant thoughts together, but we end up on the same page about everything. The harshest we’ve ever been with one another is when he forces me to watch a hockey team out of Florida, and I make my displeasure well-known.

That’s justified, though, because gross.

This is unheard of with him and it sits like lead on my poor underused conscience. “I mean, we were just talking about Easton, and I thought it was implied that you’d back me up tonight so we could talk to him. Then as soon as something else comes up, you make other plans.”

“Okay, first, it’s Blakely—who, normally, you’re as excited to see as I am—and I can’t control her impromptu plans, but I’m not going to blow her off. And if Easton is ready to talk to you, he’ll make it happen. I know you’re worried, Bray, but cornering him is only going to make him feel trapped. He’s an adult now, you have to give him an inch if you want one back.”

My point rolls around in his head for a while, and I sit further back in the leather seat and watch the show. His jaw works, his brow furrows, he even shakes his head a couple of times. Eventually, he works out whatever was rattling around in there and speaks in a flat voice. “Easy for you to say.”

Yeah, I guess it is.

We don’t get another chance to talk all day, which is my fault. I work through lunch so I can get more done on our team’s task list so I don’t feel as guilty taking a half day today. Honestly, I’m not even sure I look up from my computer in the last four hours.

Look, I have just about unlimited faith in my friendship with Brady. He’s a reasonable guy, just a little shaken up. He loves fixing things for people—mowing the yards for people who can’t or don’t have time when he sees the need, and there’s a houseless guy named Paul that lives up a block from here that he regularly invites to sit down and eat with us when we don’t get takeout, because he cares that he makes him feel like a person and not an unnamed charity case. He’s just that kind of person. He may need a few hours to sulk, but he will come around and see that laid-back is the way to go with Easton, and I’ll apologize for making him feel like I don’t have his back, and then we’ll be entirely past it.

That’s not to say my chest doesn’t pinch when I walk by his desk on my way out and he doesn’t look up. I can’t leave it like that, so I squeeze his shoulder and wait for him to glance up at me. He makes me sweat it out for a solid fifteen seconds—about ten minutes in Brady world—before he indulges me.

“I won’t keep you, but I just wanted to say bye before I head to the airport.”

That melts about half the tension between us if the way the harsh lines on his forehead soften, but his eyes stay stuck in a displeased slit are a sign. “Bye, then.”

“Come over when you’re off, help me cook dinner for everyone.”

He nods reluctantly, so I call the whole thing a success and head off without bothering him anymore. Insecurities I thought I’d put to bed years ago are threatening to wake back up if I don’t cut my losses and get out of here soon. I order a rideshare in the elevator, and it’s waiting on the curb a few minutes later to take me home. Seattle passes in a blur, which really indicates my fucked-up headspace. I love where I live, this city is like no other to me—the festivals, the culture, even the landscape is enough to usually make me feel grateful to live here. But I see none of it until my black front door with the white oak trim comes into view.

If Blakely wasn’t flying in, I’d have probably taken the day off, anyway. Leaving this morning had my stomach in knots, not that I had any logical explanation for it. But I knew it wouldn’t settle until I had eyes on Easton, just to make sure he’s okay.

There’s no sound of human life as I enter on soft feet—no TV or music playing, no one moving around. Nothing except the quiet hum of the air conditioner. If I didn’t have a doorbell camera showing no activity between me leaving for work and now, I’d have thought he ran off already. I toe off my shoes as I scan past the entryway, hoping for him to appear out of thin air, if only to prove his existence at all because it’s feeling a little theoretical right now. I hang my keys up on the wall without looking back and wince when I hear them crash to the ground, sounding louder than a gunshot in a museum.

Easton scrambles up from in front of the sofa on a gasp, eyes darting around looking for a threat that isn’t there. His hair is hanging limply over his eyes, and I can tell even from here, his pupils are blown out.

“You’re okay,” I assure him, even though I’m pretty sure I’m lying. He whimpers, and suddenly, nothing can stop me from going to him, albeit a little slowly so I don’t scare him again. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”

He must have been asleep on the floor, which feels like something that should be addressed but it doesn’t make the priority list when he’s looking at me like this. All curled into himself with his arms braced securely across his chest, trying to not take up space as he sizes me up.

I have no earthly idea what he thinks is going to happen next, but it makes rage boil in my blood like I’ve never felt before. Then he speaks, shaky and unsure. “Please don’t be mad.”

And just like that, the fight bleeds out, and I sink into the couch with a sigh. The confusion is ever present, but it pales in the face of the need to reassure him. “Not even close, Chaos. Weren’t you cold down there?”

His posture loosens a bit, but he remains wary. “You’re not going to ask why?”

I really, really fucking want to but my advice to Brady this morning is an incessant needle in my brain. “No. You can talk to me if you want, but hey, maybe you’re just a floor person. My brother is.” I shrug.

He finally deflates, and maybe I did something right, so I decide to push my luck. “Want to get out of the house for a bit?”

Those pretty eyes widen and he pulls his full bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing nervously. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you?” He asks it like a question even though I offered. I get the feeling someone hasn’t always been genuine with him.

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t. We’re only going to pick up my friend from the airport, so don’t get too excited, but I’m happy to have the company.”

His nose does that little scrunch again, like I’ve confused him. “You want me to meet your friend?”

A snort of laughter escapes me; this guy is growing on me way too fast for my own good. “Of course I do. Blake will adore you.”

Easton frowns but says, “Uh. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

The skepticism is understandable, he just got here, and I’m taking him to meet someone new, someone he’s not sure he can trust. But he’ll see once he meets her why I think it’s a good idea to get them around each other. At least, I hope he does. I’m running purely off unclear vibes and about three hours worth of memories with this guy in my decision making process.

“Come on, let’s go then.”

He follows me to my car and gets in, immediately rolling down the passenger window. I toss him my phone and tell him to put on some music. With the way he looks at me, you’d think I asked him if he wanted a winning lotto ticket. His eyes light up and a grin damn near splits his face in half.

I’m never going to pick out the music around him again.

He finds a folk-ish pop style playlist that is honestly pretty good, but the way he keeps glancing over at me, trying to gauge my reaction, overshadows the music. When I turn it up, a ridiculously cute, toothy grin takes over his face and I feel like I won a prize. About halfway to the airport, he asks me to tell him about Blake.

“Blake is hard to describe, but just keep an open mind.”

Easton runs a hand through his hair as he stares out the window. “If anyone ever described me like that, I wouldn’t be sure if it was an insult or not.”

“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

He huffs a bit, like a cat that got disturbed from its nap. Slightly annoyed but manageable. I can work with that. A text from Blake comes through saying that her plane is on the ground and that she’ll come find me.

Maybe Brady will be happy with me if Easton makes a friend. He doesn’t seem to have many. I haven’t seen him with a stitch of technology, so obviously he’s not worried about anyone thinking he fell off the face of the planet. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t benefit from people in his corner though. It’s not like he’s acting ready to fall back into the roll of Brady’s little brother, and he seems… unsettled. As different as they are, Easton is my best friend’s brother, and this has worked for me before. This sudden reappearance sent me into a factory reset and I’m just reverting back to the last thing I know.

My Chaos has his eyes peeled as we pull up in front of the terminal, scanning every passerby with equal amounts of apprehension and carefully veiled insecurity. He’s not sure where he fits in front of anyone else, and I get it. If I fuck this up, I’m moving to Thailand. Call me Mister Threw in the Towel because I can’t be the guy that messes up Easton’s life twice. I’ll be done. Done, done. Never coming back, done.

Then I see her and it’s too late to turn back. Here goes nothing, I guess…