24. Chapter Twenty-four #2
“How could I ever forget you, you idiot,” I murmur as he turns into the hug so he can have his arms around me too. “You’re my superhero, Keaton.”
“You don’t owe me-”
“Shut up.” I squeeze him harder. He presses a choked sound, maybe a sob, into my shoulder.
“I can feel them becoming family, okay? But they’re like my step-brothers or something.
You and Kellan are everything. My mom and my dad and my brothers all wrapped up.
How could they ever, ever compete with that, Keat? ”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He gives me a squeeze of his own before nudging his temple against mine. “Fucking hell, when did you get this tall? You used to be so short.”
“Dude, you met me when I was, like, 10. I hope that I’ve gotten taller.”
He chuckles, the sound low and a little wet. “Used to have to get on one knee to give you a good hug like this.”
“Please don’t do that now. It’d be awkward as fuck.”
He laughs again, this one warm and light. He pulls back to wipe a hand down his face. Then leans back against the counter behind him and crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh.
I’m about to say something comforting. Something about how maybe if we go slow with it, Kellan won’t mind if I bring Keaton into this side of my life just a little bit.
We could come up with a story on how I know him.
Or we could just lean into his budding friendship with Travis, and I can act like he’s just another operative I barely know.
I’m about to say that we’ll figure something out.
He speaks first, lifting his chin to look me in the eyes as he says, “Tell me about this kid you’re looking for.”
It’s a gut-punch.
My knees almost buckle. I catch myself on the edge of the counter, bracing myself as I ignore the corner of it digging painfully into my palm. “The… kid?”
“Travis talks a lot, once you get him going,” he says as an explanation. Or maybe to just prove that there’s no point in trying to lie or talk my way out of this. “He told me about your little side project. Elliot, right?”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.
“It’s - uh.”
“You know how much something like that will fuck with you, Ace. Even when you’re home with us and in a good place, the kids hurt you.”
“Yeah. I mean, no. No, I know. But I’m fine.”
His face crumples in pain and sympathy and grief - all the things I feel every time I think of Elliot. Every time I think of any of the other kids I’ve come across while looking. “Ace, buddy, don’t lie to me. We don’t lie to each other. That’s not us.”
“Right. Sorry.” I nod. And keep nodding. My head feels stuck in a loop, just nodding and nodding and nodding. “I’m - I’m - uh-”
“Woah, hey. Hey, it’s alright.” He lurches forward. “Fucking hell, breathe, kid. Breathe for me.”
I am breathing, it’s just that it hurts, like it hurts really fucking bad, and everything is getting achey and my head is splitting and my eyes are burning and panic is wrapping around my chest, and I’m so tired, I’m so fucking tired, I’ve never been this tired in my life, and I’m breathing but it’s not helping.
It’s not helping. I don’t know - I don’t know what to - what to - I can’t - I can’t-
“Ace!” someone says, and their hand is on my cheek, warm, heavy, fingertips pressing into the spot behind my ear, thumb pressing into the hinge of my jaw.
Keaton.
That’s how Keaton holds me when my mind goes away. It’s how he’s always held me. It made me feel so safe when I was small, like he could hold my whole world together with just his big hands.
It makes me feel safe now.
I’m so lucky to have him. To have them. Keaton and Kellan. The brothers who saved me. Who took me in. Who gave me the world all while keeping me safe from it.
Does Kellan know about Elliot? Is that why he sent Keaton here? Am I in trouble? Wait, no, I’m a grown-up. Not in trouble. Just… is Kellan disappointed in me? Is Keaton? Are they angry?
They’re all I have.
Keaton and Kellan are all I fucking have.
Why did I keep this a secret?
That’s what Kellan will be mad about most of all. No secrets. No lies. He hates those. He hates those so much.
God, I’ve kept so many secrets from him lately. Letting Carter know the truth while the operation was still going. Letting Jake buy Casey. Every goddamn thing to do with Bryce Jacobson. Now Elliot.
“Alright, shh, here, breathe,” Keaton murmurs. Something is pressed between my legs - when did I get on the floor? - then there’s a hand on my back, rubbing circles. “Breathe. It’s alright. Breathe.”
I heave, dry and awful, air and bile grating their way up my throat. I don’t remember the last thing I ate. A little liquid comes up when I heave again, the last remnants of my energy drinks.
I need those. I need energy. I can’t sleep yet.
I should find another-
“No, stay here. Stay right here with me. Breathe.”
I brace my arm on the thing between my legs - a wastebasket, it’s a wastebasket, because of course he knew I’d get sick, knows me so damn well - and force my heavy head up enough to look at him. Everything swims. Then comes into focus. I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. None of that.” He rubs my back a few more times before taking my head in his hands again, helping me keep it up as it starts to bob. That’s nice. Really nice.
God, my head hurts.
Everything hurts.
I’m so tired.
He presses his forehead to mine, his thumbs rubbing circles on my jaw. “Christ, kid. That was a big one, huh?”
I close my eyes with a shaky breath, just now registering the tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Let me start with the basics, hm? No one is mad. No one is disappointed. No one wishes we didn’t have you. You’re not better off in a closet. You’re not in trouble. You don’t have to apologize.” He presses his fingertips harder where they rest at the base of my skull, grounding me.
I sniff. More tears are falling down my cheeks. My chest hurts. My lungs won’t stop burning.
I’ve been running from this panic for so long, using pills and caffeine and music, sticking to routines and burying myself in work. I forgot why that’s such a bad idea. I forgot how much worse it is when the crash comes after running, instead of just facing it right away.
“K-Keaton?”
“Yeah, buddy. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
I swallow around a sob. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“Yeah? Alright. Yeah, that’s okay. Let’s take care of that, huh? Let’s take care of that first. Come on.”
He helps me stand up before bracing one of his hands on the back of my neck and using it to guide me toward the door. My legs feel clumsy, my head heavy.
I forgot how safe he makes me feel. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him in person. It’s been so long since I got to remember that he’s the superhero, that he’s got it all handled. It’s been so long since I’ve had the chance to just breathe.
He guides me into the backseat of his truck, first to sit, then having me lie down. Those echoes are still going. It’s nice. Feels like home. Feels like, for just a little while, I don’t have to be the one to keep it all together.
“I have a check-in,” I slur out. “10.”
“I’ll handle it.” He promises. “How about we start with your favorite?”
I don’t have time to ask him what he’s talking about, the opening chords of Lean on Me punctuating his question.
I sigh with relief, finally - fucking finally - letting my eyes fall closed.
I put this song on Matt’s playlist. Right at the top.
I hope it helped.
God, I hope it helped.