Chapter 23
CHASE
For the third time since we got to Seattle Center, I am forced to bolt three feet sideways, because apparently, it’s still not cold enough for these idiots to retire their anacondas for the season. “Motherfucker,” I mutter as Brady drags me back to the walkway. “That thing could eat a tiger.”
Brady glances backwards. “It’s, like, five feet. You got a lot of nerve calling me dramatic as much as you do.”
I shake my head. “Nah. You’re still too Floridan for your own good. That thing is a prehistoric monster.”
“One day, I’m gonna have to fish you out of Puget Sound when you miscalculate your escape route from a normal-sized ball python that was being safely held by its owner. Just be glad there’s no body of water here for you to drown in.”
“He fucking swung it at me like it was a rope. Go fuck yourself. It’s a perfectly valid reaction to a forced interaction with a dangerous predator.”
Brady laughs deeply. “We can go back and have an educational chat with the dude about consent if you’d like.”
I resist the urge to walk faster, but only just. “Like hell, but thanks for the offer.”
I’m glad this is entertaining for him. Also, probably a good thing that I had better luck when I was here with Easton. He’d probably think the damn things were cute, and then I’d have had to leave him behind on our date. Not the best look, but safety first.
I’m in the middle of demanding to know whoever thought this was a wonderful way to get tourist money when Brady slaps the back of his hand against my chest. “There he is!”
The relief that sweeps over me is instantaneous.
I’m not sure Brady could have handled it if another bad thing happened.
Hell, I’m not super attached to Paul, and I’m not sure I could have been either.
Sure enough, there he is, bum knee and all sitting on a bench, watching a magician entertain a large group of kids.
Brady’s smile threatens to split his face down the middle. It doesn’t take long for Paul to notice our near-rapid approach and match his expression. “Mind if we join you?” Brady asks, nodding towards the show.
Paul shrugs, a grin hinting at the corners of his mouth.
The crinkles around his eyes are a dead giveaway for how he feels about the company, though.
Brady joins him on the bench, and I lean against the tree next to them with a good view of a disappearing quarter.
The guy is funny; I’ll give him that. He’s got his audience giggling up a storm, and he’s still warming up.
The coin gets ditched for a deck of cards, which he shuffles with more skill than I’m capable of scrounging up to do for my own day job. Where do people even develop this much dexterity?
By the time the show is over, I’m as into it as the kids are. Brady and Paul applaud. “You feel like some Mexican food while we’re here?”
“Well, I guess that sounds all right. Since you showed back up out of nowhere, we might as well.”
We shuffle our way inside, and I can tell Brady is scrambling to come up with something to explain himself. What he lands on is: “I know I haven’t been around lately. I’m sorry. Things got out of hand at home and it’s been fairly consuming. I’m really glad to see you now, though.”
“I’ll grab the food. You guys get us a table,” I suggest. They agree and give me their orders so we can part ways.
Brady had a point about the weather affecting him.
He’s really having a hard time getting around.
We’ve both offered him help before, but Paul has yet to take us up on it.
Says he does fine, which is his right, but I do see why Brady was worried.
I wonder who Blake knows in social services around here. There’s got to be housing programs that could at least get him in a stable place until winter is over.
Their friendship might seem a little out of the ordinary to anyone who doesn’t know them, but honestly, it’s done a lot of good for my best friend.
He likes having someone that comes from a wildly different walk of life to talk to about what’s going on.
It started with them sitting on a curb, sharing a sandwich because Paul thought Brady would be embarrassed to eat with him inside.
He wrote the book on meeting people where they’re at in life that later helped his brother fall in love with me. I wouldn’t have known a damn thing about how to be someone’s safe place if he hadn’t shown me the way years before.
When I return to them with our food, the absence is long-forgiven, and Paul is in the middle of telling some wild tale of his youth. Brady counters with one from our college days that has the table in a chorus of raucous laughter.
Discretely, I check in with Easton because I have a feeling Brady won’t be in a hurry to go back to Blake’s. He responds quickly with a progress picture of his canvas and says that he won’t be bored waiting on us.
I’m really hoping that the right moment to tell him that my mom is arranging for him to be featured in an art show will magically appear, but seeing him pick up a paintbrush like he never put it down is a joy that I’m not eager to upset—for both of us.
Although, if she keeps up with the continual updates, he’ll end up seeing something that tips him off if I’m not careful.
Our afternoon with Paul is unhurried and a cleansing affair after the weeks of worry.
My guard never fully drops, but I’m able to dial it back enough to have an enjoyable time.
Chances are, nothing is going to happen to us in broad daylight with all these witnesses, and Blake is a force to be reckoned with.
There’s no way she’s letting anything happen with or without me and Brady there.
When we part ways with our companion, he makes Brady promise to take care of himself. It’s so good to see Brady happy; I don’t even bitch about the walk back to his car.
“He looks good, right?” Brady confirms, eyeing me as if he’s daring me to disagree.
I wouldn’t, even if I did. “Yeah. Knees aside, he looks healthy. I think he’s gonna be all right, Bray.”
Paul has had some ups and downs with his health, but even something small like a head cold is more serious when you don’t have a warm place to sleep, so if there’s anything slightly off with him, Brady will worry himself to death over it.
“I’m gonna get him on the list for that veteran housing program one of these days. He seemed more open to the idea of it today. After all this is behind us, it’s gonna happen. You’ll see.”
I muster up some optimism. In Brady’s defense, today was the first day the conversation wasn’t immediately shut down, so maybe it’s warranted. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.” And that’s the truth. There’s no one better.
Because Brady has never known subtly or a good segue, when something is on his mind, he simply says it. “You’re changing. Growing up, I think.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that mean?”
“You have the hard conversations now. A lot easier, too. You’re making room for people in a way you didn’t balance well before. Your family, Easton. Airing things out with me and Blake that you’ve held onto for years.”
“It’s not like you guys have given me a lot of choices there.”
He laughs. “Fair. But a few years ago, you would have said anything to get us to stop talking. Now you say what you mean, always. It’s not a fight-or-flight thing anymore. And why the fuck are you nitpicking me? I’m trying to tell you I’m proud of you, asshole.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Thanks. Maybe Easton is rubbing off on me.”
“I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that, but good for you guys, I guess.”
The joke hits me finally, and I join in his laughter.
Maybe it’s overly optimistic of me, but I swear I can feel some of the damage in my soul from the last few weeks stitching itself over just with the simple act of spending quality time with my best friend.
Everything has been so heavy lately—opening up old wounds, the constant worry, mending all the things I broke. Including myself.
It all feels a little more manageable. Like maybe we stand a chance of getting through this with everyone alive and all limbs intact.
~~~
The air has shifted when we walk in. Wordlessly, Brady asks if I feel it too with a lift of his eyebrow.
I nod. The environment was filled with quiet determination just hours ago.
Easton painting his heart out, and Blakely working away on her computer.
They were fine. Good, even. My heartbeat grows in volume until it’s thudding loudly in my ears.
Our steps are slow and cautious, like something too drastic will send everything into a rapid spiral. “Hello? Guys?”
When I hear Blake’s voice, three years get added back to my life expectancy. “We’re in here,” she calls.
“In here” turns out to be huddled in the corner of the living room like a couple of abandoned puppies. “What the fuck?” Brady asks.
Blakely lays down the kitchen knife that she had prepared to go in someone’s ribcage and hops up before pulling Easton up with her. “We’re fine,” she says to combat our immediate concern. “We got another delivery, and it was better safe than sorry to wait until you guys got back.”
I gape at her. “And you didn’t think to fucking call us?”
Easton ducks his head. “I told her not to. I wanted y’all to have fun for a little bit, just for a while. And it’s not like there’s anything you could have done if you’d been here. Aaron knows where we are. That’s not new. We got spooked, but nothing else happened.”
My eyes roll hard before I pull him to me and kiss his hair. “You scare the shit out of me sometimes, sweetheart. You okay?”
He nods, relaxing into the embrace and breathing deeply. “He’s hurting him to get to me,” he admits softly.
Brady makes a horrified noise, prompting me to look up. He hands me a small stack of photos. Even the one on top is grim. “He’s chaining him to a fucking bed? Look at his wrists. They’re raw. This isn’t just for the pictures.”
“Keep going,” Blakely encourages.
My lip curls in disgust, but I do. That evil motherfucker is doing a damn good job of making us feel unsettled.
There’s no peace when somewhere nearby, someone’s baby is chained to a bed and beaten within an inch of his life.
I toss them on the nearby coffee table when I’ve reached the end, eager to never see them again.
It’s haunting to think about what that poor kid is going through. Between the real life knowledge that he’s suffering and being constantly reminded how easily it could have been Easton—and would be him again if we slip up—is going to leave a mark behind long after this is over.
I’m slow to release Easton, too comforted by his steady heartbeat against mine. It’s not something I’ll take for granted again. “Asher is still alive for now. If we want him to stay that way, this needs to end soon.”
Grim agreements come from the rest of the group, and Blakely says she’ll tell the police to look into this with discretion. This predator is encroaching on the walls of our home, threatening the pack we’ve built to protect each other. If only he knew how far we were willing to go for our own.