Chapter 12
CHASE
“Look, you can say what you want, but I’m going to do it. You’re being short-sighted,” she snipes.
I resist a growl. “And what about the damage it’ll do to Easton?”
Blake slams the papers in her hand down on the desk. “Who is saying that? You or him? Because forgive me if I’m not tempted to listen to what someone else has to say about what he is and isn’t capable of.”
My teeth grind in an effort not to shout. “You are missing the point,” I grit out. “It’s not about if he’s capable. It’s about if it’s good for him. Why can’t you just go alone?”
She throws her hands out in front of her. “That’s not how it works. I can’t go report a crime on behalf of someone else. What would you have me do? Sit on the facts or possibly get some real help here?”
“Or the possibility that you’re ignoring entirely; you make him go do this and it traumatizes him further or he gets his hopes up and starts thinking he’s safe before what's-his-fucking-face tries something else. Which of those appeals to you?”
Blakely groans, frustrated. “First of all, I don’t make him do anything.
But he should have a choice. There is literally only so much I can do here, Chase.
If we’re going to have a snowball’s chance in hell at stopping this maniac, we have to get the cops involved.
Now, how fucking stupid would we be if we didn’t use this advantage I have with the chief to make sure this can be over? ”
After digging my knuckles into my eyes until I see explosions, I release a heavy breath.
“I cannot take it if he has another major setback right now, Blake. I found my breaking point, and it is right here. I’m well aware I’m being selfish, but you were my friend first, and I am fucking begging you to think of my well-being too. ”
“God, you’re so dumb, it actually causes me pain sometimes.” She sighs.
“Excuse me?”
A plush daisy gets lobbed in my direction, either for stress management for me or because she’s a violent little shit when she wants to be.
Could be either. Whichever, I’m keeping the damn thing until after this conversation is over.
“I said what I said. Do you forget that I’m excellent at handling a mental health crisis?
I have plenty of experience on that front.
I have at least three therapists that have already told me they would take on a new patient considering the urgency of the situation.
I can and will make sure that Easton is fine. I’m not going in blind here.”
Well. Okay. She’s got me there. That level of forethought hadn’t occurred to me. “Fine. I’ll trust you. Just please be careful, Blake. You’ve got a lot on the line.”
“I will always be careful where you’re concerned, Chase. I do have a good feeling about this, though. He’s been doing fairly well, all things considered, and having some real closure certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
Slowly, I force the tension from my body as much as I can manage.
She’s right, I know that. We’re up against a wall, and Easton deserves to be done with this.
I’m just fucking terrified. I’ve been on edge since I got a strange feeling in my sister’s apartment, and it’s killing me to not be able to step back from it.
There’s a quiet knock on the door. Blake tells whoever it is to come in and the subject of our disagreement appears.
His pretty eyes bounce back and forth between me and Blake, probably trying to figure out why things feel kind of tense in here.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“Never,” I say at the same time Blake says, “Impossible.”
Well, at least we can always agree on that. “Come here, Chaos.” My hand reaches for him before a moment of uncertainty washes over me. The physical contact between us has been limited to me trying to comfort him a couple of times today. I’m not sure if he actually wants that from me anymore.
Easton comes close enough to take my hand, but won’t let me pull him into my lap like I was hoping. “I’m here to steal you, actually,” he says with a smirk.
“Please fucking do.”
I roll my eyes at Blakely, but Easton laughs. “How the hell does Landon put up with you?”
She cackles. “You do not want to hear about how he adjusts my attitude.” My eyebrows wrinkle in disgust, she is absolutely correct that I don’t want to know about that. “Now, be a lamb and go away so I can get some work done.”
I toss her a mock salute and let Easton tug me to my feet. “Yes, ma’am.” Such a little fucking smartass, she is. These people of mine; they’re something else.
After a detour to the kitchen, because Landon ordered more pizzas for the five of us than would be necessary for a herd of elephants, Easton informs me that he’s not sharing me again for the rest of the evening.
Once upon a time, that would have filled my head with filthy fantasies of what we could do.
Now, I’m mostly convinced that he’s going to tell me I need intensive help.
Maybe it’s all in my imagination, but he’s looking at me funny, and I can’t get a proper read on it.
Although, that would be true of anything at this point.
I’m so exhausted, even day-to-day interactions are taking something from me.
I keep telling myself that I’m going to force myself to come out of this fog I’ve been trapped in.
Call my family, tell them I’m sorry that I am the way I am.
Start getting back to a version of normal.
But I don’t.
I can’t figure out if it’s because I can’t do it or if maybe I’m not ready yet.
Either way, things aren’t looking up for me.
They should be, I know that. Blake is so dedicated to finding this motherfucker, and in the meantime, Easton is here, right in front of me.
Living, breathing, not an active risk to himself, all the makings of what would usually get me back on my feet.
“What did you have in mind, sweetheart?” I ask when we’re in his borrowed room. Easton rounds the bed and climbs in before making grabby hands at me.
Far be it from me to ever deny him anything.
“Look,” he starts as I get pulled on top of him, making me scramble to not crush him.
“I can’t fix most of this. I hate it, but it’s kinda just where we are right now.
” He is clearly unhappy about our arrangement because he doesn’t let up until my full weight is on top of him with my head resting just below his ribs.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re not doing well, and I know I can fix part of why. So you’re going to let me, okay?”
My brows pull together as I try to make sense of that. “I’m not following.” The temptation to burrow further into his abdomen is fucking strong, doubly so after his fingers start carding through my hair.
God, I fucking missed this. Being close to him—close enough to hear his heartbeat, smell the scent of his skin. “You’re not sleeping.” It’s not a question so much as an announcement.
“Neither are you.” Very, I know you are but what am I of me, but it’s the best deflection I’ve got.
He taps my head firmly in reprimand. “Stop that. We’re not talking about me. Just let me love on you for a bit, okay? I promise I’ll sleep, there’s just a brain worm that’s bothering me that I’d like to try and do something about first. I’ve got you, honey. Rest for a while.”
I should protest, should do this for him since he’s the one who’s been through an actual nightmare.
But his hands are so soothing, smoothing out my jagged edges with each stroke of his hand until the temptation to close my eyes is too much to fight anymore.
My final thought before sleep pulls me under is that I still haven’t told him I love him.
The timing hasn’t felt right, but I should because I really do.
Now more than ever, probably. More with each passing day.
~~~
Easton
The shoe’s on the other foot for once, and I don’t hate it.
Well, I hate that Chase isn’t doing well, but being the person who can take care of him is sort of amazing.
He pieced me back together more times than I could count—made sure I was eating when I couldn’t and wiped the tears from my face without any hesitation.
It’s not like him to ever appear like he doesn’t have it all together.
He’s so careful with his compartmentalization that no one hardly ever sees him falter.
But I’ve seen what’s behind the curtain, the insecurities he doesn’t talk about and what he holds back from people.
Safe to say, I adore him. Each little imperfection makes me fall more hopelessly head over heels. This is the kind of thing you can’t come back from, a life-altering event that changes you forever whether it works out or not.
He’s completely knocked out on top of me.
Dead weight pins me to the bed in the best way, and while I have plenty of reading to do, it’s hard to do anything else except stare at him and revel in how grateful I am that I’m here for this moment.
I almost wasn’t. Just the thought makes my heart sink.
He needs me; I’m not just some charity case to him that he’s taking on because he loves my brother.
I understand him in a way that no one else does, because he doesn’t let them.
It’s a mind-fuck, wondering how I ended up being important to someone like him.
But I am, and I can’t let him down again.
Can’t betray the trust he’s given me, because I know he’ll clam up worse than ever if I do.
Precious thing, isn’t it? Meaning something to someone special to you?
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper to myself, unlocking the tablet to the pages Brady bookmarked for me.
Something about this feels way overdue on a personal level.
I’m not stupid, I know that I’ve clearly got a lot of mental health issues going on.
But I’ve never taken a deeper look, gone beneath the surface level.
Where I grew up, being depressed meant you weren’t praying hard enough.
Give your problems to God, or whatever they said.
People said stuff, like, yeah, I had some depression after my last baby was born, like it was a serving of pie.
Talked about it like it was a one and done thing, and a shameful part of their past. A low point that has never been stooped to again.
But it was never like that for me, so it was more than I could make sense of at the time.
I still don’t know what it means as a condition, how to deal with it on a long-term basis.
Or even if that’s what I have, to be honest. There’s so much out there, and I’ve got to start somewhere.
Brady told me earlier that he found some of these when trying to understand me better, which hurts as much as it is sweet.
I don’t like the idea that there’s something about me to understand, something that’s not normal.
But in all fairness, there’s no one who deserves answers about me quite like my brother, so I understand why he started to look.
It just sucks to be the center of something beyond my understanding, but know that it’s negatively affecting the people I love.
The more I read, the more of this sounds familiar.
Not everything, though, which kinda bums me out.
Then Chase burrows a little deeper into me.
Still sound asleep, but like he can’t get close enough, and I decide to keep going.
Get through another paragraph, scroll a little further.
He needs me to do this, even if he’ll never say it.
It doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s not nothing either. I’ve got to start somewhere, right?
My brain worm practically purrs in satisfaction at my efforts.
That damn thing would be the first thing to let me know if I wasn’t in the right place, but I am.
I’ve never been good at accepting compliments on my work because it feels like it comes from somewhere else.
Like the brain worm is the one pulling the strings and I’m just the flesh that it controls.
My head gets a little hazy, and when I come to, there’s something cool staring back at me.
But at no time does it feel like something I did.
I live in service to that annoying little worm that has a direct line to my left hand, and for today, he says I did well enough to curl up with my hopefully-still boyfriend and get some much-needed sleep. So that’s exactly what I do.