The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1

by Laura C. Reden

  “I’m good, Beck. How are you today?” he asked as he opened his wallet.

  It stung. How was I? I was terrible. Frightened. I was barely holding it together. And as of an hour ago, I was doing so with a shattered cell phone.

  “Oh, same old, same old,” I said. My life wasn’t anything special before yesterday. What I would give to have my mediocre life back now.

  “I’ll have the regular. Oh, and Carol wants a slice of banana bread this morning,” he said while flipping through the cash in his hands.

  He was in his seventies, and he’d been coming here nearly every day since we opened. He was a good man with a kind heart.

  “Here, keep the change.” He placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

  “Thank you, Greg. Have a nice day today. And tell Carol we said hello,” I replied.

  I survived the morning rush and was beyond thankful for my break. We weren’t supposed to take breaks at the same time as other employees, but we only had a couple of customers, so Lindsay took the seat next to me. Her natural blond hair was dyed black. It made her blue eyes look electric. Her face was round and youthful, and her whinnied laugh was contagious. But today, I was immune to her infectious spunk. I had hardly been listening when she updated me on the potty training she had been doing with Capone, her new puppy.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Lindsay reached out and pushed on my knee.

  Shit! My throat began to burn, and my eyes prepared for waterworks. Hold it together!

  “Nothing!” I rubbed my eyes. “Allergies. They’re driving me nuts,” I said.

  Lindsay bought it. I was pretty sure that I could pass off many of my symptoms on allergies. That’s what I had told myself for the better part of the year, and I believed it, myself.

  “That sucks. But hey, it could be worse.” Lindsay shrugged while scooping whipped cream out of her drink with her straw. “I mean, people are out there dying with cancer and shit.”

  The blood drained from my face. I almost felt like I could throw up. I jolted to my feet.

  “I gotta use the restroom before my break is over!” I blurted out and stammered to the bathroom.

  “But your break just started!” Lindsay called out behind me.

  I had been looking forward to my break all morning, but now that I had it, I wished I was working my shift. I couldn’t talk to Lindsay about her squishy faced puppy. I lacked the appropriate excitement. And I sure as hell couldn’t talk to her about . . . I don’t know, allergies? Because that went south really quick!

  I washed my hands under the warm water for far too long, trapped in the restroom because beyond those doors was a reality that I didn’t have the tools to face. Again, I hadn’t seen that tv special. I couldn’t face my friend; she would know something was terribly wrong. But I couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day either.

  I dried my hands and left the comfort I’d found in the privacy of the restroom. A few more customers had wandered in, and Lindsay was working the cash register. I was thankful she hadn’t been waiting for me to return to our conversation.

  I was headed to clean up the mess I left on break when Easton’s voice penetrated my mind.

  “Easton,” he said.

  “Thank you. That will be right out,” Lindsay said while writing on a cup.

  Easton turned to walk away. I saw the side of his face and automatically looked away. What was he doing here? Would he blow my cover? What was I going to say to him?

  “Everly?” Easton called out. I froze midway to the frappe I had barely touched on my break. Easton snuck up behind me. I grabbed my drink and stood to my full height before turning around.

  “Hey! You found me!” I said, immediately regretting it when I saw his reaction.

  His blue eyes filled with . . . what was that? Pity? I didn’t need sympathy. Especially not from him. I took him in from head to toe. His hair remained unruly, even in its dried state, and he was wearing a wool grey trench coat and blue jeans. This time, he didn’t look homeless—not in the least. Did I make that part up? Judging by the sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt, I would even go as far as to say he was well-off.

  “That I did! How are you doing today?” Easton asked. His eyes scanning me up and down, a hint of interest in the corner of his eyes.

  I felt overexposed. He knew my deepest, darkest secret. And now he was standing in front of me at my coffee shop, in front of Lindsay. It made my secret real. Tangible almost. I couldn’t hide from it in the bathroom as long as he was there with me. I nervously glanced around, hoping nobody could hear us.

  “I’m good!” I squeaked. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Sometimes I was the most exhausting person. We both knew I was lying.

  Easton shook his head, understanding I wasn’t ready to make my cancer a reality. He sat down on the old leather recliner in front of me and crossed his ankle over his knee. There was something about him that made me want to open up. I looked back to Lindsay again. She had the line of customers under control. I sat down on the edge of the other recliner and leaned into Easton.

  “It’s just that nobody knows. I can’t tell them. But, I can’t live a lie either.” It came tumbling out of me. “I’m barely holding it together! And I don’t know how long I can pretend I have allergies!” My eyes begged the stranger I met on the bridge for answers. I don’t know why I thought he would have them. But I did.

  Easton uncrossed his leg and leaned forward to meet me. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

  “You should tell your friends and family. You should tell everyone. I think it would help you cope with it in the long run. But start with your family,” he said.

  I thought about telling my mom, but she would fall apart immediately. How could that be good for anyone? Deep down, I knew he was right, though. I shouldn’t keep it a secret.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask you how you were. How are you today?” I took a sip of my frappe, and my nerves started to calm as our conversation pivoted.

  Lindsay walked over and placed Easton’s latte on the table. It wasn’t our typical practice to bring customers their coffee. Instead, we would call out their names and place their order on the bar for pickup. I hoped Easton didn’t see her wink at me before she walked away. It’s not what she thought; this was the furthest thing possible from a date. I would have some explaining to do.

  “Today’s a great day, now that I found you.” Easton smiled as he buried his face in his mug. Was he flirting with me?

  I laughed out loud. It was the first genuine laugh I had since my diagnosis, and as soon as I realized it, my smile faded. It was bittersweet.

  “Don’t do that,” Easton said.

  “Don’t do what?” I asked him, shocked that he would tell me what to do, and a little fearful that he was in my head.

  He leaned in again. “Don’t cheat yourself out of happiness. You still have plenty of time to laugh. And you deserve it too.” His forehead creased with his serious tone. It was true. Everything this guy said was true! I found myself nodding over and over again like a bobblehead as his words sank in. It was something I would need to remember.

  I snapped myself out of his piercing gaze and looked down at my watch. My break had ended some time ago.

  “I’ve got to go back to work,” I said as I stood up and collected my trash. “Will I see you again?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the table. I didn’t know what to make of him. He was confusing to me on many levels. But the one thing I did know was that he was the only person that understood me at the moment. And that brought me an immeasurable amount of comfort.

  “I think I could make that happen.” Easton smiled up at me, and I felt my cheeks flush. The door jingled as my mom walked through the door.

  “Mom!” I blurted.

  “Mom?” Easton said with curiosity as he looked over his shoulder.

  Chapter 4

  My mom wore a large cozy wrap that was more of a blanket than a cardigan. She had pale blond hair hi
ghlighted with silver strands. Her light green eyes were identical to mine.

  I stepped away from Easton and gave my mom an awkward hug. “Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked.

  “What? Am I not allowed to visit my daughter at her work? Come on! You haven’t been returning my calls; what do you expect?” She held out her hands to signify the lack of options. Another customer came in behind her. Like building blocks, my apprehension was stacking higher, and higher.

  “Sorry, Mom, I’ve had . . . a headache.” I quickly glanced at Easton, who was raising his eyebrows in judgment but pretending not to eavesdrop.

  “A headache! You can’t call your mother because you have a headache? Geez, Beck, I was worried about you!” Mom said as she reached in for another hug.

  “Sorry! I’ll try harder to return your calls,” I mumbled before glancing back at Lindsay. “Hey, I need to get to work. Can we talk later?” I asked, glancing around the room so that my eyes could land on Easton for a split moment.

  Just do it. Be brave. “I, um, have something I want to talk to you about.” My voice quivered.

  “You do? Why don’t you come over tonight for dinner? 5:00,” Mom said—more of a statement than a question.

  I grimaced. It was too soon.

  “Tonight?” I tried to buy myself some time to think of an excuse.

  “Yes, tonight! Your brother is coming tonight, and he is bringing his girlfriend. You can tell us your big news then. 5:00!” she said before lowering her voice. “Now, can you get me a cappuccino with a foamy heart on top?”

  I sighed. I couldn’t tell my family the news while my brother’s girlfriend was present. I nodded, deflated and discouraged.

  “Yeah. Just one sec, Mom,” I said.

  Mom always whispered when she asked for free coffee, even though I told her it was OK with the owner. I would have to ask Lindsay to do the heart for me, though, as I always screwed them up. I turned on my heels and headed back to work. I was utterly embarrassed that Easton had heard the whole exchange. Worse yet, my stomach dropped when I peered out from the espresso machine and caught Easton chatting with my mom. She looked amused, which wasn’t saying much. Everything excited my mom. The world could be raining acid, and she would stare at it and marvel over mother nature.

  He wouldn’t tell her my secret, would he? The milk screamed as I started the frother. I watched my mom chuckle as I tapped the metal frothing cup with my palm to check for the perfect temperature. I guess she wouldn’t be laughing if he told her. That was the only indication I had that my secret was safe.

  “Hey, Lindsay, can you make a heart on top of this cappuccino?” I asked. She made me watch her for the hundredth time. But no matter how many times I watched or practiced with soapy dyed water, my latte art never got better. Lindsay executed a perfect heart, then took it a step further and made a swan, too.

  “Show-off.”

  I slipped a coffee sleeve over the cup and grabbed a lid, eager to interrupt Easton and my mother from their chat.

  “Mom!” I called from much too far away. “Mom, I’ve got your cappuccino, and Lindsay even made you a swan,” I said, reaching the coffee out before I even approached her.

  It worked. She took a couple of steps away from Easton and met me halfway.

  “See? Isn’t it pretty?” I said before slipping the lid on for her.

  “Oh, I just love that . . . see what I did there? Love, and it has a heart . . .” Mom elbowed me in the ribs. It was so stupid it almost made me laugh, which reminded me of Easton’s comment about cheating myself from happiness. I had a long road ahead of me . . . or, actually, maybe not.

  “OK, Mom. 5:00 it is. I’ll see you tonight,” I said as I hugged my mom goodbye and tried to usher her out of my coffee shop before any further embarrassment could happen.

  Mom resisted as she turned to Easton. “Goodbye, dear. Nice talking to you!” She waved her hand frantically at him. What on earth did he say to her? I frowned. I didn’t have time for riddles, and that man puzzled me like no other.

  “I’ll be heading out too,” Easton said, standing and joining my mother. “I'll walk you out.” He turned to me and smiled. I didn’t know what was behind his dimples, but I would have given just about anything to figure it out. I gave him an icy glare, but it only encouraged him more.

  “Oh! That would be lovely!” Mom turned to me and winked as if she could still rope in the men. I shook my head and watched the two of them walk away.

  “You have a lovely daughter,” Easton said to my mom just loud enough for me to hear him. What was happening? I was about ninety percent sure he wouldn’t tell her. I bit my lip, staring at the door as it closed behind them. Whatever this was, it was outside of my control.

  “Beck! A little help here?” Lindsay called out. I grimaced when I saw the line had grown, and the customers were becoming upset. I must have been so wrapped up in thought that I didn’t notice them come in. I hurried back to work. The hectic flow of customers didn’t allow time for Lindsay to grill me on my odd behavior or the guy that I spent the rest of my break with. I found myself coming up with answers to her hypothetical questions while I worked. He’s just a guy I met the other day . . . No, I don’t like him . . . I don’t know why he was talking to my mother. But she never asked. Not today, at least.

  It was a long day at work, but this was just the beginning. The real work was ahead of me yet. I sat in the comfort of my truck in my parent’s driveway, not yet ready to go inside. I was tired and emotional. Maybe I should just say I don’t feel well and go home? The stomach flu was going around. My eyebrows raised as I considered the possibility of the lie.

  Carter knocked on my window, and I jumped a mile high. If I had not used the restroom before leaving work, I might have peed my pants—just a little.

  Instead of getting out of the truck, I stayed put and rolled my window down.

  “Hey, dork,” my brother said. He was holding his girlfriend’s hand. I looked her over. Her dress was too frilly. Too short. I didn’t like her.

  “Oh my God. You must be Beck!” the girl said in a high-pitched tone.

  “Actually, it’s Everly.” I corrected her. My brother frowned at my response.

  “What are you even doing out here?” he asked. It was a valid question. One I didn’t have an answer to.

  I looked around my truck. “I’m just . . . I just got off work! So, I’m fixing my makeup.”

  He frowned, but his girlfriend understood. “Go on. I’ll be inside in a minute.”

  He turned to walk away, and his girlfriend’s high heels clacked on the driveway after him. It was too late to fake the stomach flu now. I pulled the bun out of my hair and shook the strands loose. A fresh aroma of coffee escaped my locks. At least I didn’t work in a pho restaurant. Everyone loved the smell of coffee, right?

  I walked to the front door, admiring the Japanese Boxwood bushes my parents had recently planted. The moment I placed my hand on the doorknob, my heart sank. I was weak, and I wanted to run away. I’d hide under the covers of my bed and waste away to nothing. One step in front of the other, I entered my childhood home, carrying my burden, heavy on my shoulders. The house was dark; no windows in the entryway. I passed the piano I’d taken lessons on as a child and failed to play since. Now it did nothing but collect dust—another manifestation of my failure. It took everything I had to enter the lively kitchen. Mom was blabbing about how pretty Carter’s girlfriend was, and I could hear my dad talking to my brother about some hockey game. I wasn’t sure where I fit in, but at least I showed up. Sometimes, that was the hardest part.

  “Hey, Mom. I’m here.” I held my arms out for a hug.

  As if it wasn’t hard enough to step foot into the kitchen, she burst into laughter.

  “Oh, honey! Long day? You forgot to take your apron off!” Mom pointed at me as she chuckled. I looked down, disappointed, and ripped the thing off of my head.

  “Hey, babe. Look, she forgot to take her apron off! I think she need
s a drink!” Mom continued.

  “OK, Mom. We get it. Yes, it’s been a long day. Hey, Pop!” I called out to my dad as I threw my apron on the countertop.

  The girlfriend stood awkwardly off to the side as I hugged my mom. I felt bad for her, even though I thought my brother could do better.

  “Hi. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” I said as I held my hand out to greet her.

  She held her hands out wide, “I’m a hugger!” she said as she wrapped her arms around me for a fake hug. “I’m Chloe!” she said as she rubbed my back with her fingers only.

  “I like your dress, Chloe.” This time, it was a white lie, and those were OK by me. In all honesty, I did like her frilly white dress. The pink flowers were a cute pop of girly color. But it wasn’t summer, and it looked like it had shrunk in the wash. Chloe smiled wide, showing red lipstick smudged on her freakishly white teeth. Should I tell her? I glanced at Carter, and our eyes met; he’d taken the time to put gel in his dirty blond hair. It always looked darker when he did that. His smile was genuine. I brought my attention back to Chloe before me. Nah, I won’t tell her.

  “So, Beck,” she started.

  “Everly.” I corrected her. This girl would probably never earn the right to call me Beck.

  “Sorry, Everly. I know it’s weird, but even your brother calls you Beck. Well, when he’s not calling you dork-face, or whatever. So, I’m just used to it. Maybe people will even call me Beck one day!” Chloe laughed, but I found her comment more disturbing than funny. Beck was a family name. Several of our friends had grown up calling us Beck. Sometimes it was confusing, but it was always an honor. I excused myself for that drink my mom had mentioned.

  I walked over to the small counter space where we used to store the computer when I was a child. Now, it was filled with booze. I didn’t want anything too strong. I knew I would need to drive myself home tonight. The sooner I could get out of here, the better. But I still needed something to take the edge off. I glanced over my shoulder at my mom. She held up a spatula covered in spaghetti sauce while she spoke to Chloe, a glass of red wine by her side. Red wine it was. I poured myself a half glass. I would have to see how the next fifteen minutes played out before helping myself to the other half.