Begin Again (Unwell #2)

Chapter 1

CHASE

Isaw a quote once that said “It was agony. Agony it would seem he deserved.” It lives under my skin, just beyond what the eye can see but in the perfect location for me to feel it all the goddamn time.

When my heart can’t handle another second of the pain, it’s right there flashing in neon lights.

Always reminding me that I got exactly what I should have.

I’m the one who left him behind. I knew.

I fucking knew it was a bad idea. My intuition is rarely wrong to that degree, and leaving that night felt like my soul was getting ripped in half, but I did it anyway.

My siblings needed me, we thought our mom was going to die on us.

The motivation at the time was reasonable, but I never knew that the sacrifice would destroy me.

“I can’t hear myself think,” my best friend hisses. We’re in real trouble if a pack animal like him is over-socialized. World collapse is imminent.

They think they’re helping, but that’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it?

Everyone wants to help, to be supportive in the way that they’d want if the same thing happened to them, but fail to consider that might have the opposite effect on other people.

Then you have to grit your teeth and say thank you—because appearing ungrateful would be the worst thing to ever happen.

And the most annoying part is that I am extremely grateful.

I love these people, and I appreciate how they’re trying.

On a completely unrelated note, if my mugshot shows up on channel six tomorrow morning, I was framed or something.

While digging my hands into my eye sockets, I state the obvious. “We have to get the fuck out of here, man.”

Brady scoffs. “No shit. Got any ideas? We’re both effectively homeless because of this shit.”

Good point. Running away from my problems to the house next door was only going to work so long. Seemed like it would work at the time. “We need someplace quiet and people who aren’t… so people.”

I don’t drop my hands until there’s a kaleidoscope of colors behind my eyelids and I’m at risk for causing ocular damage. Brady seems to consider the request for a moment before huffing in frustration as something crashes in the kitchen beyond our field of view.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” one of them calls, and at this point, I can’t even tell who because everything sounds like ear-splitting screeching.

Only one person could save us from this unending hell of family time, and I’m not hearing any shit from Brady about it.

Blakely responds within seconds just like I knew she would. “’Kay. I’ve got our way out; you come up with our exit excuse.”

His dark eyes roam over the space warily. “Are we sure they’d even notice?”

“We’re making up a third of the population here. Seems like they would eventually.”

It may not be my entire immediate family here, but it certainly feels like it. We’re only missing my sister and niece. My younger brothers and parents are doing their damndest to make up for that fact by being extra loud though, so yay us.

How they manage to have sixteen conversations at the same time, I’ll never know. I don’t even think I want to. Brady coughs, the subtle asshole that he is, and says the first thing that comes to his tiny brain. “We’re going to Costco, be back after a while.”

He hauls me to my feet and pulls me towards the door, not before my mom raises an eyebrow at us. “Bray,” I grumble. “This is why people think we’re together, just so you know.”

Being the mature twenty-four year old that he is, he mimics me in an annoying, pitchy voice that sounds nothing like me, fuck you very much. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Drive to Blake’s, dumbass.”

Brady breathes a sigh of relief, one of the few we’ve managed in the four weeks since everything went terribly wrong. “Why didn’t we think of that sooner? How long has she been home?”

“I dunno. Ask her yourself.” Personally, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

If she’s willing to take in strays, then I’m just glad to be on the list. Brady speeds on the way to Blake’s house, and I’m thankful for it.

Not counting the few hours I got her a couple of months ago, neither one of us has seen her since Christmas.

Blakely lives in a gated community in an area of town that the average mortgages would make your eyes water.

Very different from mine and Brady’s little houses that needed a shit ton of work when we bought the side-by-side places, but I’m really happy for my friend.

She’s been through enough in life and happiness has made her flourish in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever see.

The security guy waves us through, and before long, we’re pulling up to find her waiting on the sidewalk. I didn’t tell her much about Brady and I needing an escape, but she was there last time, so knowing her, she can see it on us a mile away.

The hug she wraps me in is forceful enough to send cracks scattering up the walls I’ve built around myself since it happened again. “Oh, Chase,” she murmurs into my chest, making my throat tight.

I take a deep breath and step out of her embrace so she can give Brady the same treatment. We share a sad look over her shoulder before he gives in and lets himself feel it.

“Is Landon home?” I ask, looking around for her blond shadow of a husband.

Even in my own head, my bitchiness is getting on my nerves. That was a bit much. While Blakely has always been more my friend than he is, I do like the guy.

She smiles fondly even at the mention of his name. Gross. “He’s catching up with some friends. Should be back before too long, though.”

Brady grumbles something about happy people that I can’t help but agree with.

Blakey is kind enough to ignore it, given our current state, and leads us inside her house.

While the ceilings are high enough that our footsteps echo, it’s nice that the place still feels like Blake and Landon belong here.

The walls are decorated with tons of pictures of them as a couple and plenty with their friends and his teammates over the years.

There’s one of me and her on Halloween during our senior year that I have no memory of—thanks to our good friend tequila—but certainly looks like it was a good time.

She’s grown her hair out a bit since then, changed up her style some, but the fierce nature I always admired about her is still just as strong as ever.

Brady and I collapse in a heap on the oversized sofa that faces a huge TV on the wall, gratefully accepting the beers Blakely hands us a few moments later.

She sits cross-legged on the coffee table directly across from us, giving me the distinct impression I’m about to be ensnared into spilling the full story. “So, here we are again,” she announces as though it isn’t obvious, taking a generous swig from her bottle.

“Same shit, four years later,” Brady adds bitterly.

I catch a stray look. “But it’s not exactly the same, is it, Chase?”

If she notices me rolling my eyes, she doesn’t mention it. After a very uncomfortable moment of silence, I say, “No, it’s not. I wasn’t dating him four years ago.”

Her violet eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles sadly. “So why would he take off now? Seemed like he was pretty happy where he was when I was there.”

When Blake visited, things were still brand new and still very unsteady. When I ask her why she got that impression, she says, “He was safe enough with you that he could be a bit unstable. As crazy as that may seem, it is a good thing.”

Sure, good as long as that was what he needed. If he suddenly didn’t need it anymore, then not so much. “I don’t know, Blake. I’d like to think so too, but there’s only two real options here, and both of them scare the fuck out of me.”

Brady taps his fingers restlessly on his thigh, and suddenly, as I watch the movement, facing the weight of this situation makes the air rush out of my lungs.

This is too much. My molars grind as I try to push through, force myself to get the words out but they refuse to form.

Living in this reality has been agonizing, but voicing it makes it real all over again.

It’s been twenty-eight days since everything fell apart.

Since I tried to prepare myself for a world without my mom in it, since I had to tell her that her baby didn’t make it.

Then only to rush back home with no reason except intuition and find the love of my life gone without a trace.

Only a brief, scribbled note saying not to look for him.

Blakely hums in consideration. “But it’s got to be just as awful not to know for sure. That was the worst part last time, that you had no idea what happened to him.”

Ah, yes. The last time we lost Brady’s little brother.

When he got kicked out for being gay at sixteen years old, and by the time we picked our jaws up off the ground and got their essentials, he was gone without a trace.

Just like this time, with the exception of the whole “figuring out he’s the only person for me” thing.

Well, and the homophobia and forcing him out part, too.

That’s different. But the point is, Easton is gone with no way for us to track him down and make sure he’s okay.

Brady says softly, “Yeah, awful isn’t even the beginning.”

She nods in understanding. “Well, let’s see if we can figure it out. What are the two options, exactly?”

“The ex,” I mumble, the words like ash on my tongue. “He was with an abusive piece of shit before he found us. We tried looking into him, but we kept coming up empty. Either he got his hands on him and forced him to come back or he got overwhelmed and disappeared on his own.”

Blakely purses her lips as she considers this. Brady makes a pained noise that shatters something in me I’m certain will never be repaired. Have I given the impression thus far that we’re coping well? Because we’re not.