Chapter 15
EASTON
Not that it’s a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it’s been a very weird day, and this wasn’t on my bingo card.
It’s so minor, just a little nail polish, but also a huge “fuck you” to my parents.
I never turn down an opportunity to further disappoint them, even if they’ll never know about it.
Blake gave me an out before she even agreed to the tech coming over, and I didn’t take it.
Don’t want it, in all honesty. Still is pretty strange to try and wrap my head around, though.
Even when I was little, I couldn’t understand why something so simple was the hill to die on.
I drew on everything as a kid. Very few things were safe from me, and my body was not included on that list. Why was coloring in my fingernails so inappropriate?
It seemed like it went right along with the other doodles decorating my available skin.
But the one time I tried, Dad about blew the roof off the house. Probably one of my earliest core memories and a key event that made it clear I was safer hiding who I was from my parents. I never did it again after that first time, but I didn’t make peace with it either.
Then Blake said her nail girl was willing to come over after dinner if I wanted in. She probably didn’t even realize what she was offering; just being the kind friend that she is and wanting to include me in things.
But what an opportunity.
While everything else is so chaotic and unsure, it was an easy sell to stick it to my dad. If he hadn’t gotten our whole family in the church, we might still be together, and none of this would have happened. Sure, it’s a reach, but I’m in a mood.
So I said yes. Now, a girl is laying out a bunch of supplies in front of me and sweat is breaking out on the back of my neck for some reason.
In my reading last night, I did a deep dive into clinical depression, which I’m pretty sure I have.
Most likely not the only thing wrong with me, but it’s mixed into the cocktail.
But I need to look into what it is that makes my heartbeat go wild over the simplest of things and makes it so hard to breathe sometimes. It’ll make my brain worm happy. He still wants me searching, so I’ll keep going until he reveals whatever he’s keeping hidden from me.
“You wanna go first, lovebug?” my friend asks from beside me.
The girl glances up, curious who her first client will be. My lord, she’s got the most perfect eye makeup. It’s so dramatic and I’m sort of obsessed. “No, you can go. I’m still undecided.”
Blakely makes a small noise confirmation. “You don’t have to do something super wild if that’s not your vibe. Dasha can just paint them and put a good topcoat on.”
Dasha nods. “Yeah. No wrong choices here. Wanna see the polish colors I have?”
She passes me a little plastic board with a lot of different colors painted on it. I try not to make it obvious I’m floundering over here. “Thank you,” I say in a small voice.
Dasha grins, tossing me a quick wink before getting to work on Blake. “Oh, I don’t know if you saw but there was an envelope on your porch when I came in. I left it on the island.”
Blakely thanks her before asking Chase to see what it is.
They’re hovering, Chase and my brother, like they don’t want to leave, but also have no interest in our current activity.
Fair, but I think it would be cool if Brady got in on this at least. Maybe it’ll give Dad that one last big heart attack he’s been needing.
Was that too much? Oh well.
I’m methodical in my color analysis. How is one even supposed to pick one of these anyway? Is there some sort of system I’m not aware of? Like always, when I’m teetering on the edge, I look to Chase.
His eyes find mine easily, tethered by the invisible string that ties me to him. “What’s wrong?” he mouths.
I hold up the damn board in response which makes the corners of his mouth tick up adorably.
Thankfully, he takes mercy on me and comes over to help.
I pass him the cursed thing, barely resisting the urge to throw it.
Blake and Dasha are talking animately, which gives me a little cover to solve this without bringing more attention to it.
“Which do you like the most?” Chase asks softly. The fact that I don’t have to tell him to keep my meltdown on the down-low might make me love him about thirty times more.
However, what a dumb question. “I’m an artist, you weirdo. I like all colors. Hence the problem,” I hiss.
Chase chuckles warmly. I wanna whack him. “Black or navy blue would be pretty safe options, but you could go for something brighter if it makes you happy.”
“Can you please, for the love of everything beautiful, tell me what color to do?”
He swallows his laugh and tries to take my request seriously.
I don’t know if he thinks I’m cracking jokes over here or what, but if someone doesn’t give me an out here, I’m gonna get really dramatic.
“This grey is nice, it looks like the stains you get on your fingers when you sketch. So either that or something super out of character like pink. Those are your options.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t even pretend to be controlling for, like, a minute to help me out?”
Chase shakes his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s the best I got.”
He doesn’t look sorry. In fact, he looks like he’s about to pat me on the head and call me a cute little bunny. Although, having my options cut down significantly is appreciated. Plus, him seeing a normal grey color as graphite smudges is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.
Brady approaches with a tense look on his face, with a white-knuckle grip on that envelope. “Steal you for a sec?” he asks tersely.
“Is everything okay?”
My brother glances at me and arranges his features into something similar to a smile but comes across more as a grimace. “Yeah, all good, Eas.”
That’s not at all convincing. Just as I’m about to tell him to wait, Dasha turns to me. “Ready?”
I nod, trying to keep an eye on Chase and Brady from the corner of my eye, but it’s not going well. “This color, please,” I say, pointing.
“Very good choice.”
Blakely grins at me. “That’s so pretty, lovebug.” The boys steal her attention quickly, making my nerves ramp way up. She squeezes my shoulder affectionately as Dasha shakes the bottle and takes my hand. “I’ll be right back.”
I have a feeling that’s a lie, but I’m really trying to not make a scene in front of a stranger. Chase’s words echo in my ears, reminding me to breathe. I try. Dasha notices the slight shake to my palm, but it doesn’t seem like it’s getting in her way. Small positives.
Blakely and crew take their crisis to her office, and I decide that this isn’t good. Hasn’t enough happened on this day? Reporting my abuser wasn’t enough of a strain on my delicate grip on my mental state?
God, if you’re out there, please just let Aaron die.
I almost laugh. Not like I believe in that, and if I did, He sure wouldn’t be listening to me. Never did before.
Like predicted, the trio doesn’t return to my sightline until Dasha is wrapping up with my nails.
As much as I’d like to appreciate this moment, because they do look great, I can’t even try until I know what caused Brady to act weird.
“Be a little easy on them until you’re sure they’re dry,” Dasha reminds me.
“Thank you.” Blakely pays her then sees her out, and I’m about ready to explode.
Chase crashes into the sofa, drops his head and rubs his eyes almost violently. Brady looks about three seconds from puking. “What the fuck is going on?” I demand.
Blakely shifts, uncomfortable. “Honey,” she starts. “Please take a breath.” She waits until I do. “I don’t know how to say this except to just say it. That envelope left on my doorstep had pictures of us at the police station and bookstore today as if we were being followed.”
My brain fractures, splinters into a thousand pieces as I try and understand those words said in that arrangement. “That’s impossible,” I whisper. “We would have noticed.”
She only blinks rapidly. “I’m so sorry, Easton.
I didn’t notice it either. I never would have taken you out like that if I thought this is what would happen.
It’s going to be okay though. I’m gonna turn it over to the private investigator and Chief Brooks who will share it with the FBI.
They’re gonna find him. I’m so fucking sorry I put you in danger, honey.
” She sounds truly devastated which makes it all that much worse.
There’s a near-painful buzzing that starts in my bones before radiating out. The urge to try and tear my skin off is eating me alive as a roaring in my ears drowns out everything around me. “No. He can’t have found me already. NO!” I shout helplessly.
~~~
Chase
Useless isn’t an unusual emotion for me, even with Easton.
At best, I was only ever trusting instinct and hoping it would work out.
Now, my body and mind feel foreign to me, like I can’t control them.
I see him hurting. I see him slipping into that dark place that is so hard to get him back from. But I don’t know what to do.
Brady snaps into action before I can make my feet move.
I watch on the sidelines as he shows his brother the type of care that I should have perfected by now.
I thought I had. But my heart is pounding so hard in my chest that it’s painful, and I’m screaming at myself internally to do something, but it isn’t making me move.
I just want out of this nightmare. I’d do anything to rewind an hour ago to the biggest problem in the room being deciding the color for his fucking nails.
He’s being stalked again, and just like I said—this maniac is escalating.
The psychosis that goes into finding Easton here of all places, following him, taking photos, developing them, and then leaving them on the front porch as some sort of power play is sickening to me.