Chapter 12
twelve
Maddox
A tremor builds in my body as I listen to Easton’s message.
It starts small, a light trembling as the pain slowly infiltrates my veins.
It leeches deeper, the shaking growing more aggressive, until my body shudders violently.
The muscles in my legs give out, and I fall to a crouch, holding on to my mattress to keep myself from completely crumbling.
But it’s too late. I clutch my chest while Easton hurls every broken shard of himself at me through the phone.
I take them, each one like a jagged splinter of glass, piercing through my skin straight to the broken organ inside me.
I did that to him. I’m the reason for the misery bleeding in his voice, the wild, near-manic pleading.
Oh God. How could I do this to him? Tears stream down my face, my breath hiccupping from me.
The air is choking me instead of keeping me alive.
He’s right. I’m a coward. I’m weak. I didn’t know any other way.
I’ve tried for so long to get over him. I’ve tried so fucking hard.
But I can’t move on. I thought if I could just find someone else, fall in love with someone else, then I’d move past it. Be free of this torture.
No one has ever come close. I’m terrified no one ever will.
This distance isn’t even working. All it’s done is show me how bad I’ve truly become.
He’s gone, and there’s a gaping Easton-sized hole inside me.
I’ve given so much of myself to him over the years, there’s barely any of me left now.
This is so bad. So unhealthy. He returns in a few weeks, and I’m not going to be over him. Not even close.
I don’t know how to do this without destroying us both.
An unfamiliar man’s voice murmurs something, and I still.
Then the worst sound I’ve ever heard fills my ears.
It ricochets through my mind, determined to make sure I feel every ounce of pain I deserve.
Easton’s sobs. Strangled. Raw. Like a wounded animal.
And that’s what he is. That’s what I’ve reduced him to.
“Easy, Cowboy. I’ve got you,” the man’s muffled voice says.
I swallow hard, and the bitter, briny tang of my sorrow floods my mouth. Every tear scorches, corrosive and caustic. At least there’s that small boon: East’s not alone. He has someone else who can take care of him. Do the job I can’t any longer.
I am the epitome of every broken gay boy who has ached for the straight best friend he can never have.
Those stories only end in heartbreak.
That’s how our story is ending.
Both of us broken.
And it’s all my fault, because I couldn’t control my heart.