Chapter 3
CHASE
Social anxiety has been a constant companion for as long as I can remember.
My first memory of it, though, was in kindergarten.
Mom had me in a place that was, like, two blocks from our house.
Real nice, had bumblebees painted all over the exterior and a mountain of flowers growing in the garden out front.
Some kids were crying at the prospect of being left by Mom or Dad; that wasn’t what was bothering me though.
I don’t even think I waved goodbye before I marched in there prepared to take on the world.
Except, there were already little groups forming that I had no idea how to merge into.
Madison knew Rose because they were on the same soccer team.
Dylan and Charlie lived on the same street.
But I didn’t have one of those. Logan was my only friend, and she was at the elementary school up the road.
But even then, can I call my older sister my friend, when really, she was just the only other person close in age to me that didn’t make me want to crawl underneath the bed and never come out again?
Watching all those little five-year-olds talk to each other was like watching a foreign film minus the subtitles. I wasn’t speaking their language, and it was one that I never managed to pick up. Not for lack of trying, mind you.
It always felt like something that needed no less than three-fourths of my brain power to keep a leash on it so I don’t embarrass myself at any given moment. People that feel natural for me to be around are few and far between.
Actually, all the ones I’ve ever found are in this hospital somewhere. Two friends and the love of my life. It makes you have some perspective, having people—even if it is a few—when I so clearly remember having zero humans that just got it.
Brady wove his life so closely to mine, there’s no hope of me surviving separately anymore. Found me at eighteen years old and refused to give up on me every day since, despite having more than enough reason to over the years.
Blakely never let time or distance change a thing between us. We’re still just as close as when we had class together a minimum of three times a week. She still shows up every time I need her, no matter where she is in her own life.
Then there’s Easton. My sunlight, my magic. My spark of radiant beauty in a previously grey and dreary world. He breathed air into my lungs when I was gasping for it, but somehow thought I was saving him.
They’re worth their weight in gold and then some. Gun to my head, I’d have no idea why they even tried with me, but I’m so glad they did.
But now, it could all come crumbling down. As fast as a house of cards can fall down, I could go right back to having no one or nothing.
This is going to hurt like a bitch. I’m so out of practice.
When I can’t stand the silence anymore, useless regrets start falling out of my mouth. “He didn’t know, either. At least, I don’t think so because I never told him. Now who knows if I will be able to, but it doesn’t make it less true.”
Brady slumps back in the stiff chair, his pain a tangible thing as he looks over Easton’s battered frame.
“I can’t decide if I’m mad because you’re my best fucking friend and I had no idea you felt that way about him.
You didn’t tell me. The entire time he’s been back, I feel like I’m stuck on the outside.
It’s fine. I knew you guys were into each other and that can be fairly all-consuming.
But I am your best friend. Not telling me that you were falling for my little brother sucks, Chase.
Or maybe I’m just fucking devastated because I don’t know if Easton wants to fight to live, but maybe he would if he knew that you were in love with him.
Maybe I’m overjoyed because my two favorite people ending up together might be the best thing to happen in the history of ever. I don’t even know, honestly.”
My head drops back, thudding against the wall as I expel something between a laugh and a sigh. “I really wish you weren’t so good at monologues. But yeah, that kind of hit everything all at once, so kudos for that.”
He shakes his head. “It’s, like, my one skill. Never fails me, like a mid-2000s Honda Accord. It might be a little ugly, but it does the trick every time.”
“Yeah, true. That one was missing a bit of the dramatic flair I’ve become accustomed to, but it did get your point across.”
Brady shrugs, still looking at his brother. “If you manage to take notes, I’ll rewrite it in my typical format later. I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while, anyway.”
I take a deep breath, gather the last bit of my remaining decency, and do the damn thing.
“I’m really fucking sorry, Brady. For letting you feel excluded and for not telling you how serious I am about Easton.
You’re the best of my social skills, so when I’m not syphoning them off you, it’s almost a sure thing that I’ll fall short somewhere.
But it never should have been you, not after everything we’ve gone through. ”
“It’s not like I’d give you a moment’s peace if it was my baby brother getting the raw end of the deal. Better me than him; I can take it.”
Another deep breath because something is rattling around behind my ribs, and I’m worried it might be my soul trying to come loose. “But can we?”
It’s the big, looming fear with him that I can’t shake when I start coming unglued at the seams. Can Brady and I survive if I fuck up?
Can we find our normal again if I’m the one who throws things off?
I know we can if he does; we’ve done that a few times by now and it’s always okay in the end.
I have enough faith in him to know he’ll always come back to himself, but if he doesn’t believe in me the same way, I fear we’re dead in the water.
We’re interrupted by a nurse, giving me enough time to swallow the knife lodged in my throat.
She moves around us, checking vitals and hanging a new bag of fluids.
Blake was right, these people are not fucking stupid, so she’s certainly very aware of us.
Which is good; it’s probably the safest Easton has been in years.
I just wish I could talk to him, find out what really happened.
What led him here. Tell him that we’ll do better if he gives life another chance.
Brady was right. It’s not very comforting to know it’s all up to him.
My friend is quiet while the nurse does her thing, only offering her a dim smile so as to hopefully set her at ease about us a little. When she’s gone, I don’t know how to act or what to do anymore. The autopilot that has been pulling me through this just goes offline without warning.
“Sit,” Brady demands, patting the chair he’s angled towards the bed.
I do, because I desperately need some direction.
“I’ve been thinking about what Blake said earlier about you.
Obsessing over it, actually. I think I’ve gone over our entire friendship with a fine-tooth comb in my brain, searching for a moment where I explicitly said something like that to you, so that your robot brain knew I’d be okay if you went sideways.
Can’t find it. Isn’t that weird? There were several times you said it to me, but I just assumed you knew it went both ways.
” His brown eyes level me with a look, boring through my skull.
“I forget, you’re fucked up like all the rest of us.
You just handle it better than most, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some reassurance from me.
So I’m saying it now and hoping that you’ll forgive my oversight.
You don’t have to be perfect all the time for me to still love you, Ace.
You can say the wrong thing, lose your temper or fall off the deep end, and I’ll fish you out every fucking time.
Even at your absolute worst, you’re not capable of driving me away because that’s not in you.
Trust me, I’d know if it was, and it’s not there.
So stop worrying about being perfect with me.
I’m too grown and have far too many attachment issues to let something come between you and me. We’re solid. Okay?”
I think it would have been simpler if he dropped me in a wood chipper like a dried out Christmas tree. Because now I’ve been read the riot act in a fucking hospital room. Where do we go from here?
“Okay,” I mutter softly. “You and those fucking monologues.”
He laughs, deep and rich. “People should fear my monologuing. I’m like a Spider-Man villain, except with talking feelings.”
It surprises a chuckle out of me that dissolves quickly into full-blown hysterics on both of our ends. We laugh until I’m not sure where the tears running down our faces are coming from and there’s a serious stitch in my side.
About the time we calm down, the angel herself appears brandishing coffee and pastries. “I think I’m halfway in love with you.” Brady sighs, accepting the offerings like they’re gold.
She grins as I make room for her to share the small armchair with me. “You’re gonna have to cope with that one, friend. Landon does not share well.”
“Only child syndrome,” I decide.
Blakely hums happily. “You’re telling me. Someone’s gotta be the recipient of all that undivided attention and it might as well be me.”
“Really taking one for the team, aren’t you?” Brady teases.
She nods, leaning back against my shoulder and nursing her coffee. “You in it for the long haul with us?” I ask.
“No place I’d rather be, babes.”
I knew that, but it’s nice to hear anyway. I may not have a huge circle of friends, but I wouldn’t trade the two of them for anything. “How did my parents take the news?”
“They’re worried, rightfully so, but they understand that you guys need some space. No one will be showing up unless specifically asked. Your sister sent about a dozen baby pics to your phone, and I’m pretty sure she ordered food to be delivered here, but no pop-ins.”
If I had more energy, I’m positive I’d be flooded with grief. Instead, all I can muster up is a sincere, “Thanks, Blakely.”
Time passes in that strange way that both feels too slow and so fast that I have no hope of keeping up.
Doctors and nurses come and go, but my friends never do.
They stay; despite the tears and the laughter and the devastating silence where we give up hope.
Easton’s condition remains unchanged. They tell us to be patient, his body and mind have been through a lot, after all.
But patience is hard when so much hangs in the balance.
Life, love, and everything in between, all in the hands of some power that I can’t comprehend or believe in.
If it wasn’t so tragic, it would be funny.
The only things holding me together are so simple; the warm weight of Blakely literally glued to my side as we share a chair meant for one, and the fact that Brady laced our pinkies together a while back.
The reminder of feeling twenty years old, back in his bedroom on the outskirts of Tampa, and us sharing the same anchor, smooths out the smallest bit of anxiety looking at the bed brings me.
It’s odd how in the moment where I have nothing that I need, I also have everything.
Our survival is based solely on lukewarm caffeine and one girl’s determination to pull everyone through this.
I’m not sure if it’s enough, but I’m willing to sit back and let someone else steer this ship for a while, and try to trust that it’s not sinking.
I really hope it’s not.