Chapter 25
CHASE
The text from my mom is like a loaded gun lingering in my inbox. A date has been set for Easton’s gallery that he still doesn’t know he’s being featured in. Because my mother is either extremely sentimental or forgetful—I’m not sure which—the date happens to be his twenty-first birthday.
It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming, I just had no idea how to celebrate it when he’s been in active fear for his life—and for good reason.
It’s not like taking him out and letting him get drunk is on the table.
He’d be so vulnerable and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take even if we were all there with him.
All it would take is one second of distraction.
Nope. Not happening.
I’ve been trying to come up with alternatives that don’t scream sorry about your stalker, enjoy this attempt at normal but fall incredibly short.
But if Mom has a date set for this show, that means Aaron has got to be out of the picture before it rolls around.
There’s nothing that sick fuck would like more than ruining his debut show.
So there’s two problems that need solving. I’ve got to tell Easton what my mom has been working on behind-the-scenes, and we absolutely have to somehow make a criminal with, like, two decades of experience make a mistake that allows him to get caught.
Oh, the good old days when my largest problem was leveling a deck.
Because I’m a massive chickenshit, I decide to loop Blake in to see if she can help.
I find her glaring daggers at her computer that turns into a toothy grin when she sees me.
“What was that evil look all about?” I ask, dropping onto the daybed and trying to avoid being swallowed by a small mountain of pillows.
She taps her fingernails against the desk, a sure sign of unease that sets my teeth on edge. “Oh, I was reading the check-in from that guy I have looking for Aaron. I was hopeful that the pictures would give him more to go on, but he’s still chasing smoke.”
“Is he just into wasting your money or is it really that impossible to get a solid lead?”
The frustration is boiling behind her eyes, but she’s fighting like hell to keep it from showing.
“I don’t know. I’ve used him before, back when I was trying to dig up dirt on my dad, and that was a walk in the park.
But my dad wasn’t hiding anything significant.
But back then, Landon had found the guy for me and he was highly recommended.
I think I’d prefer him wasting cash than Aaron being this hard to nail down, though. ”
Well, I’m glad she said it because it would have been a little tacky if I had, but I definitely agree. “What does Landon think? Surely he’s got an opinion on it.”
Blake’s lips quirk at even the small mention of her man.
She’s got to be missing him like crazy. “I’m not really telling him much.
He knows the basics because, well, he’s going to be getting a call from our lawyer if shit really hits the fan, and I wouldn’t blindside him like that.
But you know how he worries about me.” Massive understatement.
Landon is good at appearing nonchalant, but when it comes to Blakely’s safety, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do.
It’s given me a lot of peace of mind since he started playing in L.A and took her away from the support system she has here.
“Kinda a hard conversation to have over the phone, too, I imagine.”
She snorts a short laugh. “You could say that. He was already kind of nervous when I started looking into this on my own. Now that things have gotten more serious, all it would do is stress him out if I told him. He needs to focus, and I need him to not be freaking out about me.”
“He’s going to be furious when he finds out. You know that, right?”
“My friend, I’m counting on it. I have never once claimed to be that man’s peace. I’m his full-time problem and proud of it. The madder he gets, the better I get it.”
My jaw comes unhinged at that. “I’m filing that little detail about your sex life under things I could have never known and been better off for it.”
She shrugs, unapologetic. “You’ll live. I’ve taken to wearing noise cancelling headphones in bed because of you.”
I’m also unapologetic, so that’s fair. My eagerness to change the subject reminds me that I had a purpose coming in here.
Blakely listens intently as I fill her in on my current problem like the good friend that she is.
The mistake was not assuming she’d laugh at me.
I should have known better. No one is quicker to remind me when I’m being a dumbass than Blakely Ellison.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I insist.
“Dude, he’s going to murder you. How have you been sitting on this for so long?”
I grimace. “Well, it’s not like we haven’t had other shit going on, and painting has been so good for him. I was worried he’d get stressed and stop enjoying it.”
She snickers. “Your heart was in the right place. I’ll give you that. You might have to grovel for forgiveness, though, and I truly hope I get to see that.”
“Why are you entertained by my misfortune?”
She hums in consideration. “Because most of it is self-inflicted.”
Rude, but fair enough. That’s been a repeating lesson that refuses to be avoided for any longer, and I’m so dumb as to ignore it when the growth is clearly needed. “Will you help me?”
Blakely scoffs. “Have I ever refused? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I will. However, as your friend, it is within my rights to give you a sufficient amount of hell first.”
It’s not like I didn’t give her absolutely endless hell for marrying Landon, so I can’t really complain.
I’d do it again, though, because he was making her upset and it was hard to watch—and that’s not even accounting for how hard it was for her to feel.
“Yeah, all right.” I slump into a nearby chair and sigh heavily.
“Get it all out now then help me figure out how to handle this, please.”
Collaboratively, we decide we’re in deep shit, but there’s no other choice but to fess up.
Blake insists, and I agree that we can’t land on anything solid in regards to how to get this situation to its end without Easton, because we have no idea what he’s willing to do.
I feel like I’m attending my own execution when I wander downstairs in search of the Callaghans.
Brady’s going to kill me if this sends his little brother off the deep end, and I’d let him.
I find them deep in training and it’s a fascinating sight.
Easton throwing punch after punch, face pink from exertion.
Brady patiently encouraging him, absorbing the punches into the focus mitts with a smile.
Not half bad considering they’ve only been going at it for a few days.
I can certainly appreciate the way Easton’s shoulders move beneath the thin shirt he’s wearing and the determination in his eyes.
When they find a natural end in a few short minutes, the pit in my stomach returns. “Just supervising, Ace?” Brady asks, pulling the mitts off.
“Something like that,” I hedge. “Can I talk to y’all upstairs about something?”
Easton frowns, sensing the uncertainty in my tone. “Yeah, sure.”
I hate him being weary of me, but he should be. Brady is blissfully unaware. “Course. Then we’ll try and get the gazebo finished. We’re really close.”
Because I’m trying to practice optimism by not assuming he’ll be too pissed to tolerate me, I readily agree. The three of us trek upstairs together. Blake is waiting for us on the couch, a fresh bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap. Unnecessarily on the nose.
Easton joins her, immediately being offered the snack to share. I’m positive she would have bit me if I had tried that, but that’s beside the point.
“So what’s up?” Brady asks, throwing himself down on the other end of the sofa.
My hands wring together on their own accord. I shove them in the pocket of my sweatshirt when he zeros in on the action like a laser. “So I have news. Good, maybe, depending on how you look at it. Not that you have to, but I really hope that’s how you take it—”
“Dude, are you having a stroke?”
I aim a glare in his direction. “No, Brady, I am not. But thanks for the concern.”
His hands raise, palms up. “Just checking.”
Goddamn. I’m really going to have no choice but to just come out with it.
A guy can’t even beat around the bush anymore.
“My mom found this guy in Seattle who owns an industrial space and hosts a lot of events there. He’s a big supporter of the arts, and anyway, he agreed to host a gallery to showcase your mental health series.
On your birthday, which I don’t think was on purpose, but it worked out like that. ”
Brady’s stare burns into me, but I’m too focused on watching Easton’s every expression, looking for anger or horror. Betrayal. An endless list of possibilities that would boil down to me disappointing him. “I—No. No, you’re kidding. That’s a really mean joke.”
My heart breaks, splintering like glass.
Hoping it’s not unwanted, I cross the room and kneel in front of him.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you, sweetheart.
I really am. But I would never joke about something like this.
You have phenomenal talent, and there are so many people who believe in you.
If you want out, I’ll take the fall and get my mom to cancel everything.
That being said, there are tons of people who would be inspired by what you can do, and I would hate to see you give up an opportunity to be seen just because I was a jackass and didn’t tell you what might be happening behind-the-scenes. ”
I watch, devastated, as those fingers meant to create beauty cause him pain as he forcefully digs his nails into his wrist. “I know I broke a promise to you. When you told me you thought you were too much to deal with, I swore I’d overexplain myself to you, and this was a big thing to keep from you. ”