Chapter 9
CHASE
Idon’t even know why I’m out here, with all honesty.
If I thought I could slink off without being noticed, I would have already left.
But somehow, I ended up between Landon and Brady, unable to make for the door without both of them seeing.
Easton and Blake are having the time of their lives, floating around in a kiddie pool stuffed with pillows and blankets with their movie taking up most of the backyard on the projector.
Me? I’m just here. A glorified lawn chair. Vaguely angry lawn chair, if I’m getting real specific, but I can’t really explain that one so I’m choosing to leave it alone for now. The cutesy banter and high quality chemistry on the screen is not fucking helping, I can tell you that much.
My phone buzzes in my hand, a text from my fellow lawn chair.
Brady: Do you think Easton has ever seen a movie where the main characters are gay before this?
Well. Once again, I’m an asshole. I hate that.
How easy it is for me to forget that he’s had almost no exposure to his own culture.
Didn’t have the rainbow flags on his front lawn growing up or have a friendly neighborhood drag queen four houses over.
This might actually be a significant thing for him, seeing two gay men fall in love.
Feeling like a whipped puppy, I thumb back a response.
Me: Doubt it tbh
Me: He seems to be enjoying it at least
My friend nods next to me.
Brady: I should have exposed him to stuff like this when we were younger. It never even occurred to me he might need it.
Me: Was there an abundance of queer culture for you to educate yourself with first in your culty church community?
If he wanted someone who wasn’t sarcastic, he should have known better by now.
That’s on him. Brady huffs, annoyed. But truly, what the hell does he think he could have done?
Most of his education about the queer community came from me after he moved out of his parents’ house.
He came out of that weird cesspool of human excrement without an ounce of hate in his heart, which is nothing less than miraculous if you ask me, and he feels bad that didn’t know what was out there for his brother that was still closeted.
Insanity.
Both things can be true. Easton deserved to be brought up in a queer positive environment and have exposure to entertainment that was made for kids like him, and Brady gave him the best shot he was going to ever get given the hand life dealt him.
No kid—queer or not—should ever have to live in such a hate-filled environment as they did.
But let’s not pretend that shouldering the burden of someone else’s mental health crisis to keep them safe is ever falling short.
Brady would never call it a burden, and I wouldn’t either now that I’ve seen it up close and personal, so maybe that’s not the right word.
Responsibility might be closer. Either way, he’s being ridiculous and I’m pretty sure he knows it.
It also sounds like the least of our issues until Blake finds something concrete.
She’s been extra cryptic about everything, which I have no idea if it’s because she isn’t getting very far or if she is and it’s bad enough to keep to herself.
Why we’re not fucking freaking out is beyond me.
Easton has no idea where this guy is or if he’s noticed that there’s no prisoner waiting at home for him anymore.
We also have no idea what to expect. Kidnapping at gunpoint is a different animal entirely than domestic violence.
Not to downplay this jackass’s abusive nature at all, but I can’t shake the feeling that this escalation is only the beginning.
This isn’t a true crime TV show, for fuck’s sake. We’re not prepared for this.
They aren’t talking about it. I’m forced to live in this weird twilight zone where everyone around me is acting like it’s normal that we’re hunting down a violent criminal.
No wonder I can’t bridge the gap.
Brady’s worried about a distinct lack of Drag Race in his brother’s childhood, meanwhile that very same brother is being stalked.
He doesn’t text me back and I’m grateful for it.
The movie drags on in all its copious adorableness, giving me plenty of time to stew.
Not that I need anymore of that, but it’s hard not to when, in my direct line of sight, is everything I don’t know how to have, and I’ve got kidnapping on the brain.
After the movie is over, I take the first available opportunity to take off for my temporary room, but once I’m there, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with myself.
The sounds of my friends laughing with each other carries up the stairs as the sinking feeling settles in my stomach that my presence is dragging them down.
Overhearing their joy is a curse. If I wasn’t around, would they be like that more? Laugh easier? Smile more often?
By the time there’s a knock at my door, I’m fully ready to spin the fuck out. I don’t know why I bother hoping it’s Easton—we’ve hardly spoken since he got out of the hospital. Still, when I find Blake on the other side of the door, my heart sinks.
“Hey,” she says softly. “I wanted to come check on you. You took off pretty fast earlier. Is everything okay?”
It’s so fucking absurd, I can’t do anything but laugh.
An overrated Hollywood heartthrob is about to come around the corner and tell me I’ve been had.
This is all one big joke. Ha ha, Chase. Isn’t it so funny that the one person you’ve ever fallen in love with tried to fucking kill himself because he got fucking snatched by his psycho ex? ?
And to top it off, it’s not even like I know that because Easton told me; Blakely eventually caved to Brady and fessed up to a little bit of what happened that day. Because Easton told her and she thought we at least needed to know the basics of what he’s dealing with.
I’m so tired, my fucking teeth hurt. I’ve spent night after night staring at the damn ceiling fan whirling around, wondering where everything went so wrong. We were doing good. He was doing good.
“Yeah, everything is great. Fucking awesome. Glad you could pry yourself away from doing Easton’s nails to ask.”
The glare she throws my way is nothing short of lethal. I’m confused when she leans back and looks up and down the hallway before grabbing my wrist and aggressively dragging me out of the room. “What are you doing?” I demand. Not that it matters. She’s clearly stone-walling me on purpose.
We go down the stairs and through the house, all while her head stays on a swivel.
Who she’s looking for? I have no idea. Probably her new bestie.
I can feel her anger vibrating through her bones; she’s pissed.
More than I’ve ever seen her. When she shoves me out the door to her garage, I start to understand the motive of this little excursion.
She’s getting me away from listening ears.
When Blakely throws herself into the front seat of her car, I follow suit.
She waits exactly one second before unloading on me after we’re locked in the space together.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Chase.
What is your issue? Jealous I’m spending time with your boyfriend?
” She laughs at the absurdity. “I’m doing this for you, asshole.
I am trying to cover for you with him so he’s not alone.
In case you forgot, he tried to fucking kill himself, you insensitive dick.
He doesn’t need to spend all day by himself in an unfamiliar space, scared and isolated.
I’d do it for anyone you care about, because that’s what friendship is to me.
But as your friend, I’m gonna be straight up and tell you that you’re being a shitty partner to him right now.
Easton needs you, but all he has is me. Luckily, it’s the one enjoyable thing on my plate because everything else is shit.
I’m not seeing my own husband. I’m not doing anything besides chasing leads that make me sick to my stomach, and trying to manage the other parts of your life you’ve forgotten about. ”
It’s silent for a while. Saying all that took something out of her.
She slumps against the seat and looks over at me, eyes filled with tears.
“I have tried so fucking hard to prove myself to you. Tried to show you that I’m here for the long-haul.
You keep giving me all these micro-tests and I try like hell to ace them.
I’m damn good with tests; you know that.
But what are you going to do if I fail one?
Decide I never cared about you and send me off without a second thought?
At what point am I a good enough friend, Chase?
Because it’s clearly not now if you think my motivation is anything other than trying to help you overcome this obstacle so you can be happy on the other side of it. I don’t know what else I can do.”
The thing is, I know she’s right. Why it’s so hard for me to accept help without being bitter is one of the great sources of friction in most of the relationships in my life.
I don’t like it, but I know it’s there. “You remember that project we partnered up for junior year?” I ask into the pained quiet.
“Yeah. What about it?”
It was an entire semester worth of work, and honestly, we bickered more than anything.
Blake was maxed out on credit hours and tutoring double the kids that the school would have condoned.
I was—well, to put it lightly—a bitter asshole.
It was during the spring semester, so right smack in the middle of it, Easton had disappeared on us the first time and holding Brady up while maintaining my grades was wearing me thin quickly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever argued with someone so much in my entire life as you and I did from spring break to finals that year. ”