Chapter 1 #2
I’m not sure what’s harder, having to keep living around the gaping hole in my chest or having to watch my best friend on the planet do the same.
Brady and I have never pretended to have the healthiest of dynamics.
He forced me to be his friend when we were freshmen in college, and since then, our emotions are a little too dependent on each other.
I’ve given up feeling weird about it. In fact, I’d argue that it’d be strange if him being upset didn’t hurt me and vice versa.
You think when the worst thing happens, it will kill you because surely there’s no way you could survive this type of pain.
You can feel it tearing you apart with each breath you take, so surely there’s a point when your body can’t take anymore and just gives up.
Then the sun keeps coming up, even when you beg for it not to.
The world keeps turning, despite the fact that yours has been halted.
It still hasn’t gotten any easier, we just have to keep going.
I hate it.
All I want to do is rot in my bed where I can still smell his shampoo on my pillowcases. In my defense, I’ve never pretended I wasn’t down bad over this guy.
I don’t notice that Blake has left until she comes back, wedging her way in between me and Brady on the couch with a laptop clutched between her manicured fingers. “Let’s see if I can find a trail that you guys missed. No one is invisible on the internet. What’s his name?”
You know, I’m not sure Blake has ever told me exactly what her job is.
All I know is that she got a good one in our field and works remotely to travel with Landon.
But watching the way her fingers fly after I tell her the piece of shit’s name, I can’t help but wonder if she’s a fucking spy or something.
It’s not like I’m particularly inexperienced in the art of background checks, but as I’m watching her, I feel like a novice. “I see where you hit a wall; he’s had to verify the past about five years ago.”
My stomach turns just thinking about why that could be.
Suddenly, I really hope that Easton just got sick of me and bailed.
It would be miles better than the possibilities staring me down like a loaded gun.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “And I don’t know much about him.
He only mentioned the fuck’s last name one time, but didn’t exactly give me his mother’s maiden name. ”
She shrugs. “It’s going to take some time, but I’ll find him. Even if that’s not what happened this time, keeping an eye on this guy isn’t the worst idea.”
It occurs to me that I’ve never told Blake what happened to Easton. “How?” I ask weakly, hoping she understands what I mean.
Her violet eyes reach mine just long enough to roll them with a dizzying amount of sarcasm, even for me. “I may have born at night, Chase, but not last night. I can read between the lines well enough.”
I open my mouth to apologize, but the sound of a door opening interrupts me. A moment later, a male voice calls out, “Where’s my angel?”
Personally, she gives me more Tasmanian devil vibes but maybe that’s because I don’t bat for her team.
Must make me biased, I guess. If Landon is surprised to find his wife cozied up to me and Brady on the couch, he doesn’t show it.
Just leans over the back and meets her for an indecent kiss that makes jealousy spike my heart rate.
I had that, just for a moment in time. Was it meant to be a lesson?
Show me what could be possible if I wasn’t such an asshole? A punishment?
Yeah, that’s most likely.
“Ick,” Brady groans. “I forgot how fucking gross you guys are.”
Landon chuckles as he finally separates himself from my friend. “Good to see you too, Brady.” He nods at me. “Chase.”
I return the gesture, pointless male communication that it is. “Did you have fun?” Blake asks without looking up from her screen. I wonder if her fingers get tired…
“Yeah,” Landon says, kicking off his shoes and going to the fridge for a bottle of water. “It was good to see everyone, better to be home.” They share a quick, private smile before he continues. “What are you working on?”
She looks at me for permission, which I grant with a subtle nod.
Asking her to keep secrets from her husband would be unfair, especially considering she’s just doing this to help me out.
“I’m looking into Easton’s ex-boyfriend in case there’s something we should know about.
It’s not as simple as I was hoping for.”
Landon raises a blond eyebrow. “Probably changed his name or is using an alias.”
Simultaneously, three heads snap his way. Blakely swears under her breath. “Why didn’t I think of that? I bet that’s exactly the problem.”
He colors pink under the attention, but I’m wondering the same thing as his wife.
Why didn’t I think of that? Ideas are slowly firing up in my head, like a train engine coming to life.
More of them than I can keep track of; one getting shoved out of the way by a new one before I can properly examine it.
None of them are any good, all of them equate to some version of Easton being in danger.
I knew this guy was awful, but who knows what he’s done if he’s changed his name.
Not like it’s going to be easy to find out.
“Why would he do that?” Brady asks.
Our NSA agent for hire gives him a sad smile. “It could be anything, hon. It’s hard to say before I find what I’m looking for. No need to assume the worst, though.”
She’s being kind because he’s hurting. I think we all know that someone who is known to be dangerous and violent most likely isn’t changing identities for fun.
Blakely is too empathetic to say that part out loud, though I almost wish she wouldn’t be.
Someone needs to give voice to the endless fears we’re all suffering from, and I don’t want it to be me.
The problem is, there is no balance anymore. Easton was that for me. He gave me peace when I was in turmoil, and brought light to my darkness. Without that, I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.
A loud vibration pulls me from my reverie. Just what we need, another round of harassment from Brady’s estranged parents. I’m sure it’s them, the slithery feeling in my gut only appears when it is. Apparently he’s at his wit’s end and hands his phone over to Blakely without even looking at it.
“Hello,” she answers. She knows the full background of the Callaghan family.
I doubt she’ll be able to get them to leave him alone for good, but she’s mean enough to scare them back into their cave for a bit.
She goes quiet for a bit, listening, which surprises the hell out of me.
Blakely Ellison is the last person to give a homophobe the time of day.
“Are you sure?” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll tell him. Thank you for calling.”
I twist sideways to face her. “Tell him what?”
She only closes her computer, sets it down, and starts heading to the door. “What the fuck?” Brady calls after her, chasing behind like she stole his wallet. Fuck it, might as well join in. I’m nosy.
When she slides on shoes and starts rushing towards her car, confusion doesn’t cover half of what I’m feeling. “Blakely!” I shout.
Brady throws himself in her passenger seat, and no sooner than I close the back door with me inside, she peels out like there’s a fire.
Oh fuck…
“Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?” Brady growls.
She’s got an iron grip on the steering wheel and doesn’t look at either of us as she speaks, too focused on weaving in and out of traffic without killing us all.
“That was a nurse calling to tell us that a young man was brought in unresponsive. They got him back, but barely. The nurse asked him about family to call and he managed to say this phone number before he passed out again. We’re going there now. ”
Brady’s voice cracks. “Unresponsive?”
There’s not enough air in this fucking car. Or there’s a mack truck on my chest. I’m not sure because Easton is in the hospital… unresponsive. Like, dead. Dead people are unresponsive. So Easton is…
“Hey,” Blakely shouts loud enough to make my ears ring. She shoots a quick glare at me in the rearview mirror then at Brady beside her. “They. Got. Him. Back. As in he is alive. Has a heartbeat.”
“Alive,” someone murmurs. Could have been me.
She floors it, the foreign engine purring in delight. “Alive,” she says again.
Brady’s voice sounds very far away, though I’m not sure if that’s because of him or me. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. The nurse didn’t say, but we’re almost there and we’ll figure it out. It’s gonna be okay.”
Doubtful. Easton is in the hospital after being missing for weeks. They had to bring him back, so that means he was… No. I can’t even think it. My throat works as I try to swallow the boulder stuck in it while my eyes burn.
I should have looked for him more. He was close if he was hospitalized nearby. I thought I looked for him enough. We drove to all the places he’d been to in the entire fucking city, anywhere that he might have gone, but it wasn’t enough.
I didn’t do enough.
If he wasn’t with me or his brother, where the fuck has he been all this time?
Okay, so I think I know where, but I don’t want to believe it until I have to.
Also, there’s the matter of: did he choose this, or was he forced to leave?
Easton has been in fight-or-flight without a break for four years.
Even when he was safe at my house, his past still brutalized him on an almost daily basis.
There’s no telling what his mind could have convinced him of when I wasn’t around.
The hole in my chest contracts painfully.
It never lets itself be ignored, but topping the greatest failure of my life by epic proportions, and letting Easton end up hurt again is enough to have my fingernails digging into my kneecaps so I don’t dig the useless organ out like a rabid animal. “Alive,” I whisper.
That’s what’s important, isn’t it? He’s fucking breathing. That’s not something to take for granted. Saliva floods my mouth, forcing me to swallow the nausea back down or risk Blakely’s leather interior.
The tires squeal horrendously as she slams on the breaks, the car jerking to a halt on a curb that’s definitely a fire lane. Whatever. A security guard starts shouting about moving it as we rush towards the automatic doors, but she only interrupts with a biting, “Tow it.”
The smell hits me first, overpowering disinfectant and a staleness that it can’t quite cover.
It causes me to stumble, only the iron grip of my pint-sized friend on my arm keeps my feet moving forward as I’m faced with the nightmare reality of Easton actually being in this place.
“Don’t go into shock on me now, babe. Extreme emotions only after we find him, not before. ”
She’s right. I grit my teeth and shove it all down, there’re more important things to deal with than my bullshit. Fuck, at least someone has their head on straight. I’m not sure Brady or I would be capable of this on our own.
“Hi, we’re looking for a patient that was just brought in. I got a call from the charge nurse. Young male, suspected overdose. Bright blond hair, thin frame.”
And, to think, I was delusional enough to believe the cavern in my chest hurt before.
Hearing it all laid out so clinically rocks me back on my feet like I’ve been cracked on the jaw.
My teeth grind with the effort to keep it together.
Suddenly, those scenes in the dumb hospital dramas my sister likes where the person getting bad news collapses on the ground and wails like they’re the ones dying seems perfectly reasonable. He can’t… because so will I.
Blakely’s manicured fingers snapping in front of my face pull me back to reality. I fucking hate it here. “Sorry. But also kinda not sorry because if you want to go see him, we should do that, and you were lost somewhere.”
She looks between us, back and forth several times before frowning.
“Look, I can’t carry you two, so something’s gotta give here.
” Brady makes another gut wrenching sound, like he tried to speak but it got caught in his throat.
“I know, honey. But he needs you, so we’re going to have to do this. Together, okay?”
It feels like a million years ago, but Brady and I did something similar to this for Blake once. I guess history does repeat itself if you give it enough time. Personally, I just wish it would fucking stop. I want off the ride, please. Before it claims another victim.
She’s a really good friend, pulling us through the winding halls with a hand locked in the crook of our arms. Giving us no other choice except walk or break our noses falling on the hard tile was objectively the right move, but the dread stacking higher and higher on my shoulders with each step I take tells an entirely different story.
If I ever have to see the inside of a hospital again, it’ll be too soon.
Impending panic from leftover hospital anxiety and the dread of what I’ll find at the end of this trek war with each other for top dog, I don’t even know which one I want to come out on top.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and this will all wrap up with me in a straight jacket because my mind finally snapped. One can hope…
At the end of the hall, Blakely pauses. “This is it. Ready to go in?”