Chapter 27
EASTON
My jaw clamps shut to prevent my teeth from chattering.
The first winter I’ve experienced in the PNW is not to blame.
Surprise, surprise. The problem is me. For the first morning since we agreed to start running together, Blakely didn’t come downstairs which worried me.
After peeking into her bedroom and finding the alarm blaring and her practically comatose, I padded in quietly to shut the damn thing off and let the poor girl sleep in for once.
I used to do this by myself all the time, even despite the constant danger I felt in my bones. There’s no reason I can’t do it again. I need to stop being selfish and relying on her to keep up this unsustainable pace for me.
It’s manipulative.
“Get it together,” I tell myself as I lace up my sneakers.
It’s one day. There’s no reason to come unglued.
I take a few deep breaths before I open the front door and quietly slip out.
The crisp air fills my lungs, powering me forward in spite of feeling tugged back inside.
A thick layer of fog lingers against the earth, both adding to the uncertainty and giving me some much-needed anonymity.
I elect to divert away from the usual route we would follow, hoping that if Aaron is paying me any mind today, I won’t be where he expects me.
I’m familiar enough with the neighborhood now that I’m fairly sure I can manage fine on my own.
Nothing crazy. Just a few miles then I can take a hot shower and hopefully climb back into bed with Chase.
I know one thing—once this is over, I’m not going to miss these early morning runs.
I much prefer evenings when kids are playing in their backyards and everyone is coming home for the day.
It feels safer. Right now, I could be the only person alive on the planet, and that is not something I’ll ever willingly choose.
The good thing is that it gives me plenty of motivation to run like no other. I haven’t been able to run this fast since before I was hospitalized. Blakely and I don’t normally push ourselves too much; that’s not why we do this.
I didn’t even bother with the silent earphones today. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice even a modicum of awareness. Maybe if he sees me, it’ll keep him at bay.
It’s not like there’s even the slightest bit of proof that he’s ever nearby when he’s watching us.
He could have those crazy long-distance binoculars and only catch glimpses when we happen to be within range.
That’s still unsettling, but not nearly as much as the idea of him having eyes on me at all times.
People are not meant to live with this amount of fear. It has to be damaging to my health. But what hasn’t been lately?
My legs burn with exertion and my lungs are screaming at me for pushing them this hard.
Only because I’m searching for it do I notice an unusual sound behind me.
A quiet hum, like a car barely moving. The hairs on the back of my neck raise in alarm.
It’s too familiar. A precursor that has me wanting to flee without due cause.
I don’t look, for fear of alerting him, but something in my bones just knows. All those little prickles of awareness or seemingly unexplained feelings of panic that I spent so long trying to brush off are loud and clear right now.
I’m in danger.
My vision starts getting hazy and I have truly no idea what I’ll do if I trip or take a wrong turn as a result. Please, not like this. I consider trying to call someone for help, but even trying would slow me down, and that’s simply not an option.
Why didn’t I just stay home?
I’m so fucking stupid.
I stare at the ground in front of me, trying like hell to focus on putting each foot down in a way that won’t end with me in a tangle of vulnerable limbs on the sidewalk. Don’t do this, I beg my mind. Don’t fail me when I need you the most.
It hurts, holding a tidal wave at bay. Searing pain all the way from the ache from the clench of my jaw to the jolts of pain climbing up my legs as my feet pound against the pavement.
The car picks up speed, and I could cry.
With a strength that I shouldn’t process, I force myself to go faster.
I can’t let him catch me again. I won’t.
He has too much to take from me this time; even more than before.
Each slap of my feet against the pavement is another small victory. Proof that the power of will is my greatest ally. If I can just keep the panic attack from paralyzing me.
The headlights flick on, and I squeeze my eyes shut, begging for the nausea to pass. The tears sliding down my face are ice cold and it’s still so very dark. Why is there never any sun in this godforsaken place? There’s safety in daylight, and I can’t find an ounce of it.
Coppery tang fills my mouth as my teeth tear a gash in my tongue.
I beg my body to go faster, scream for help, anything that could scare Aaron into giving up.
But as always when he has me against the wall, it takes everything I have to keep going and leaves me with nothing left to change a damn thing.
How can one person make me react like I have no control over myself?
It’s humiliating, like an out-of-body experience or watching a horror movie knowing that the character is walking towards their death and not being able to stop them but having all the shame of knowing you should have.
I’m not ready. Whatever fate he’s trying to tempt by doing this, I’m not ready to face it. I just want to go home where it’s safe.
My next step lands wrong, jarring my ankle and sending pain rocketing up my leg.
I whimper, stumble, and struggle to stay upright.
This is it. This is when he wins. Chase and my family will never see me alive again.
I’ll be lucky if some hiker finds my bones in the wilderness years from now.
Despite how much it hurts, I refuse to make it so easy on him as to be taken without a fight.
I’m going to run like my life depends on it.
I do. My mind slips into that dangerous, safe place where the hurt can’t touch me the same way because that’s better than dying. I know that my body doesn’t cooperate all the way. No matter how hard I try, each time my injured leg hits the ground, there’s an unmistakable limp.
The car suddenly speeds up, and I freeze, bracing for impact. After I count backwards from ten and nothing has sent me flying or knocked me unconscious, I slowly open my eyes to see that I’m entirely alone again. Then I hear it. Sirens, and they’re getting louder.
For me?
That wouldn’t make sense. Teeth chattering, still vibrating with terror, I observe distantly as a police car and ambulance pull up to a house in front of me.
They’re clearly in the right place, given how the paramedic and officer confer about something before walking up together.
Like a rubber band, I snap back to reality and run.
I’m not wasting a chance to get home while Aaron is gone, no matter what condition I’m in. There’s no way to measure the amount of time that it takes me to stumble through the door, a whimpering, snotty mess. But the second I do, I collapse against the door and let the storm finally sweep me away.
~~~
Awareness trickles in slowly, but the most grounding thing is without a doubt the warm body surrounding me. Hands: one holding me firmly in place on my lower back, the other massaging my neck. It consumes my senses in the best way. A heartbeat thumps solidly in my ear. The familiar scent of soap.
Without really meaning to, I snuggle against him deeper. “Hey, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a kiss to the top of my hair, but I’m not satisfied with that and look up, chasing his lips with my own.
They’re soft and solid and everything I need. Despite the distinct impression that I’ve recently been flattened by a semi truck, it does make me feel a little better after letting myself fall into Chase for a moment. “I take it the solo run didn’t work out so good today?” he asks when I pull back.
There’s no judgment in his tone, but I don’t know why I expected any. There never is with him. Just concern and an open desire to help like always. “It was him, Chase. I know it. He was following me and then he took off, and it was horrible. He was going to kill me and then he was just gone.”
His dark brow creases. “Well, that explains why I found you curled up on the floor in a complete panic. We heard the door slam and figured it wasn’t good. Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
As if my ankle had been compartmentalizing itself until this very moment, the pain suddenly flares to life.
Rather than answering, I sit up and roll up the leg of my pants to inspect myself.
Sure enough, it’s swollen and angry red.
Chase sucks his teeth. “Ouch. Come on. Let’s get you some ice for this. ”
He stands, and rather than just helping me to my feet, scoops me up like a princess.
So dramatic. I love it. I’m deposited on the couch after he finds a bag of frozen vegetables and a towel.
“Is this okay?” Chase asks after getting me situated with my foot propped up like the true mother hen he is.
This man makes fun of my brother way too much for all this fuss he’s making.
“Yeah. Thank you. Can you come here and hold me again?”
There’s a moment of insecurity, like I should be embarrassed of asking my boyfriend for anything.
It’s quickly washed away when Chase doesn’t hesitate to comply.
My nerves are frayed and delicate. Everything hurts, and I’m exhausted.
When his heartbeat is steady in my ear again, the tears reappear.
Maybe relief this time. “It’s okay, Chaos. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Safe for now, sure. But what about tomorrow or the next day?
I’m pampered all day long except the part where Blake threatened me within an inch of my life for not just waking her up so none of this would have happened.
She opts to sit on the floor in front of the couch to be closer to me rather than being comfortable on the other side of the sectional, and I feel terrible for worrying her.
I would be a mess if the roles were reversed, and she’s clearly beating herself up for oversleeping so I just let it roll off my back.
Being so cared for that people take it so personally when a choice I made ends up with me being hurt is so foreign that it’s almost humorous.
They don’t pry or push. Just hover, which I can’t blame them for.
No one is more aware of what happened the last time he got too close than me, and they’re right to be rattled.
But Chase doesn’t leave my side all day.
We watch a ton of movies, some that I sleep through because panic attacks apparently wipe me out, and do our best to pretend the walls aren’t closing in.
In my dreams, I see Asher. Him chained to that damn bed, screaming for me to help him as flames consume him. In them, my body won’t move. I can’t talk. Nothing. Like I’m glued to the floor, forced to watch as he burns.
It’s easier to stay awake. Much easier.