Chapter 15 #2
Whether fear for his safety finally pushes me in his direction or my selfish desire to be near someone who makes me feel better, Brady looks relieved when I squeeze beside my boyfriend.
What is most concerning to me when Easton is spiraling, it’s all so internal.
The most visible reaction he might have is sometimes he’ll cry, but a lot of the time, it’s all completely invisible to the naked eye.
And right now, that’s where he is. Knees drawn to his chest as a tsunami of his thoughts assault him while he remains silent.
Only his erratic heart rate in his neck and the clench of his jaw give away his inner turmoil.
I still can’t hear whatever Brady is saying to try and soothe him, and I’m pretty sure Easton can’t either.
He wouldn’t be Brady if he wasn’t trying, though.
As my body stumbles and stutters, trying to find solid footing, I try to remind myself of the things I’d try to get Easton to do to steady himself.
Breathe.
Not a damn thing is going to get better without that.
It hurts, that first real inhale. No wonder it usually comes out as a gasp when I tell him to do it. My lungs burn, but helps ease the lightheadedness plaguing me.
“Blake, please tell me you got him on camera or something,” Brady pleads.
Without thinking about it, I wrap my hand around Easton’s elbow and tug him into me so I can bury my lips in his corn-silk hair. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here,” I whisper.
Blakely makes an aggravated noise. “If only it were that easy. My internet was coincidentally down when it got delivered, but not for long enough that I got an alert about it. I contacted the gate security to see if they have any footage. We’ll see, I guess.”
That sparks something in the back of my mind that I had forgotten about. “Mine was too, or at least my cameras went offline before Easton got back from his test.”
“Are you serious?”
I nod. “Yeah. Easton wasn’t able to text me when he got home either.”
She sucks her teeth, wheels turning in her incredible brain. Thoughts that I’m not even close to capable of at this moment in time.
“Ace, why don’t you and Eas go to bed? I’ll help her and see what we can figure out. You two have had enough for the day.”
I rarely need to be told twice. I just need to get Easton back enough to tell him, so he’s not startled. “Come back to me, Chaos. Please.” My hand rubs up and down his back, taking note of the goosebumps across his skin as the sweat cools.
It takes a few minutes, but eventually, I can feel his heart rate beginning to slow. “That’s it. You’re okay. I’m here.”
Well, one of those things isn’t true. He’s not okay, clearly, but I’m gonna make sure he gets there. While I’ve been preoccupied, Brady and Blakely have procured laptops and have already got to work. “Let me help,” I say to the back of their screens.
Blake glances up long enough to roll her eyes pointedly. “Get fucked.” She laughs when Brady raises his eyebrows at her. “Well, only if you’re into that. What I mean is—no, you’re not helping until tomorrow morning.”
Aye, aye, captain. “You’re the best,” I tell her before trying again with Easton. He seems like he’s coming back around, rubbing his eyes and evening out his breathing. When his weight falls into me, relief washes over my frayed nerves. “Let’s go upstairs, sweetheart.”
He nods tiredly, so I scoop him up and push to my feet. Easton lets out an adorable squeak of surprise that makes my heart skip a beat. “Put me down,” he demands.
“Nope.” He tucks his nose into my neck, muttering something about me being insane that is probably true. I can live with that because it’s hard to miss the way he relaxes against me, all the trust in the world that I’ve got him while he’s vulnerable.
When we get to his room, he’s still a little paler than I’d like, but his eyes are clear and a win is a win. He crawls down on the bed, looking at me expectantly. “What’s that look for?”
“This is the part where you hold me, usually.”
I bark an unexpected laugh. It soothes my soul that he’s found a little post-panic attack routine. “You’re right.” Easton reaches for me, but I pull him to his feet instead of letting myself be yanked on top of him. He hums into my chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Let’s shower first.”
He agrees easily, but I falter after steam starts filling the bathroom across the hall. What if he’s uncomfortable with me seeing him naked? He was violated for fuck’s sake. I don’t want him re-traumatizing himself or getting the impression I want to hurry him beyond what he’s ready for.
Is there some sort of guidebook?
My head aches.
During my turmoil, Easton has already stripped down and stepped under the spray. This role reversal where I’m the chronic overthinker and he’s the even-keeled one is an absolute roller coaster. “Hey, love?”
“Yeah?” I rasp.
There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he says, “There’s room for two.”
Man, I’m so fucking proud of him. Sometimes, it takes my breath away. Leave it to him to bounce back from rock-bottom, swinging for the fences.
He seals our lips together within milliseconds of me joining him. It’s soft and slow, a perfect reacquaintance of our hearts. I hope it never ends. His warm skin against mine is frying my brain, and I’m addicted to chasing the soft sounds he makes.
“I really fucking missed that. Maybe more than anything else,” he whispers in between kisses.
Truer words have never been spoken. Eventually, exhaustion starts weighing us down and forcing us to at least try to get clean.
When we’re nose to nose in bed, he’s as cuddly as a koala, tracing shapes on my abdomen while I wonder if there will ever come a day where holding him like this doesn’t dissolve the weight from my heart.
I don’t think so. It may have started to soothe his troubles, but I never could fool myself into believing that was the only reason.
It couldn’t have explained why letting him go each time felt like leaving something behind.
“So,” he starts shyly. “Not that I’m fishing for compliments, but you have to tell me if this looks okay or not.”
God, he’s cute. “Lemme see.” I take his hand and bring it closer, inspecting it in the dim moonlight filtered through the drapes. After a few seconds, he begins to squirm. “Perfect,” I murmur before kissing him again.
It doesn’t last long before he starts laughing. “That was mean,” he declares.
“I know.” His joy is infectious. My conversation with Brady plays on repeat in the back of my mind, though. “You know that you can do stuff like this, right?”
His nose scrunches up slightly. “What do you mean?”
Here goes nothing. “I only mean, I don’t want you to not express yourself however you see fit because you’re worried about my opinion or anyone else’s.
So if you want to do things with your appearance that you haven’t been able to before, you can now.
All that matters to me is you being safe and happy. ”
My fingers are crossed that he doesn’t need me to elaborate further.
It’s been a long ass day, and if I say many more words, it’s gonna sound like I’m giving him permission when I’m trying to tell him he has autonomy.
But Brady is right, which is annoying. He wasn’t allowed to experiment and find what makes him feel confident, and I refuse to continue it.
Easton snuggles impossibly further into my chest. “I know.”
Sometimes, I swear I hear him almost saying the same three little words that I’m keeping at bay.
Maybe I’m wishing it to be true too hard and imagining it, but they’re hovering close enough now that either one of us is likely to snatch them from the air.
It isn’t long before his breathing evens out and sleep claims him.
I wait a bit longer, just to be sure before trying them out.
“I love you.” It’s only a quiet whisper in the night, no one can hear it except for me.
I like how it sounds, though. Next time, maybe I’ll be brave enough to say it when he’s awake.