“Hope, the girl on the date. She was the one I wanted my brother to marry,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, I remember. What about her?”
“I went to Chloe’s dress fitting today, and I’m having a hard time accepting that she’s the right one for my brother. I just want to talk to Hope. Do a little sleuthing,” I said like a true Clover girl.
Easton was apprehensive. I could tell he disapproved of me meddling in their relationship.
“I don’t know how to say this, Beck—”
“Just say it!”
“I think you should trust your brother and respect his decisions. You don’t know his heart.”
Easton made a good point.
“I know his mind! And I know he’s attracted to shiny new things! And I know that when the newness of their relationship fades, he’s going to wish he’d picked someone with more depth. But it’ll be too late then! He’ll have a baby! I know my brother, and he’s making the wrong decision! Hope is the manager at the supermarket; I’m just going to talk—”
“I have an idea!” Easton interrupted. “Before you talk to Hope, why don’t you talk to your brother?”
I frowned.
“Have you ever talked to him about this?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Out of respect, I think he should be your first stop. Then, maybe even Chloe. And a far, distant third, Hope. And maybe not even then . . .”
I threw myself back in my seat under protest. He was right, as usual.
“So, no Hope?”
“No Hope.”
“Come with me to talk to my brother?” I asked Easton. He was pleased with the new direction, and we were on our way.
It was a Wednesday, and I knew my brother would be working. We went to K & C’s Concrete, and it didn’t take long for me to find him.
“Hey, Dork! What brings you here?” Carter said, eyeing Easton and me.
“Hey, do you have a second to chat?” I asked.
“Now? Is everything OK?” he asked. It made my stomach turn.
“I just wanted to talk to you about the wedding. That’s all.”
“Oh, OK. I’m due for a break. I’ll meet you at the benches by the deli in five,” Carter said before heading back inside.
I squeezed Easton’s hand, thankful he was by my side. My brother and I didn’t have conversations beyond name-calling, but it didn’t mean I didn’t care.
I sat with my back toward the fading sun. A little warmth hit my back, but it wasn’t enough. A shudder ripped through me. I couldn’t tell if I was cold or incredibly apprehensive. Was I doing the right thing? I wanted to pull out, but it was too late. Carter sat down opposite me.
“So, what brings you here? You never come to my work!” Carter said with a less than welcoming tone.
“I . . .” I looked at Easton, my eyes begging for help. He placed his hand on my knee and squeezed. But that’s all he offered. He was going to make me do this all on my own. I deserved as much.
“I wanted to give you my blessing!” I couldn’t believe it when the words came out of my mouth, and by the looks of my brother, he didn’t either. I was too scared to say what I actually thought.
Carter took off his sunglasses and squinted into the sunlight.
“Look Beck, I know you don’t like her, but you don’t see who she is when we're alone,” he said.
“No! I know!” It was something I’d just realized in that moment.
“She’s kind, and she cares a lot about other people. She’s a good person. And she doesn’t show it all the time, but she’s deeper than you’d know.”
“Totally!” I nodded, never doubting him for a moment.
“She’s incredibly insecure. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her, cause she’s hot as hell, but it comes out all weird. Lots of makeup, showy clothes, an over-the-top personality. But when she’s with me and we're home on the couch, and she’s got no makeup, and my old baggy t-shirt on; that’s the woman I chose to marry. Just give her a chance, Beck. You’ll like her.” Carter glared at me, part pleading, part warning.
“No! Yeah! I get it! I’m here for you, and I can’t wait to get to know her better. She’s going to make a great addition to our family,” I said, feeling no better than scum.
Thank God, I never went to Hope!
Carter put his sunglasses back on and stood up. I guess we were done talking.
“Wait!” I blurted out. No regrets. “It wasn’t Chloe; she was never the problem. It’s me. Nobody will ever be good enough for you, in my eyes. I’m sorry I ever doubted your decision.”
For the first time, I watched my brother look at Easton with a softening of his eyes. Approving almost. He knew Easton was right for me, too. Besides, it was likely that my feelings about Chloe were similar to his own for Easton and the confession resonated all the more for that reason. Carter nodded and slapped Easton on the back before heading back to work. And when he was out of sight, I refused to look at Easton’s “I told you so” face.
Chapter 19
I know you want to say it,” I said.
Easton held up both his hands, saying nothing. Smart boy.
“If you’re not going to say it, I will. You were right. I had no business meddling in my brother’s relationship. How could I have been so blind?” I asked, mostly thinking aloud, but more than interested in knowing if Easton had an answer.
“When you’re emotionally invested, it’s easy to have your judgment clouded,” Easton said. He was too kind.
“Yeah, but your judgment’s never off. You always know best. You knew today when I wanted to talk to Hope.” I prepared to go on and on, but Easton cut me off.
“And that took a very, very long time to figure out, though. It can be difficult still, and I’m sure I’ll continue to make mistakes. I’m not perfect.” Easton shrugged. “We’re human,” he said.
“You are?”
“I am what?”
“Human?” I asked.
Easton’s face fell. “Seriously?”
“What!? I’ve never met a . . . a . . .” I waved my hands about in the air. I didn’t know where I was going with this, but it sounded worse the longer it continued. “I don’t know, OK? I don’t know what you are.” I sank in my seat.
“I’m a human, as are you,” Easton said.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, last time I checked, we don’t come back from the dead, so—”
“What, do you think I’m a zombie?” Easton was beginning to find it humorous. I was too exhausted.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’ve had a long day. They made me try on this awful purple dress, and then I got spit on by this toothless grandma . . .”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah, actually, she was amazing. The spitting, not so much.”
“Why don’t you come over for some dinner? We can watch a movie?” Easton offered.
“I would love that, but I have to get back to Yeti. I don’t have it in me to stay out late.” Too bad, because I was dying to see his place. No pun intended.
“I’ll come to yours then.”
“Really? I’d love that, as long as you don’t mind me being so tired?” I wanted to spend all my hours with him, but I was still exhausted from camping. It had been a couple of days ago, but I was dragging, nonetheless.
“You go home, get on pajamas, and I’ll pick up dinner and bring it over,” Easton said. It was nice not to have to plan anything.
“That sounds great,” I said.
When I got home, I spent my time picking up the breakfast plate that I left on the kitchen counter and the random socks that Yeti had stolen and dispersed throughout the house. I had just enough time to brush my teeth before the doorbell rang.
“Hi, come on in. Um, sorry about the . . .” I motioned towards the pile of shoes by the front door. There would be other things that I would be embarrassed about too, but I had to let it go if I wanted to enjoy my time with Easton.
“I hope you like Mexican food?” Easton hel
d up a bag from the only Mexican restaurant in Clover.
“It’s my favorite!” I said.
I felt a little awkward with Easton in my house. It was a funny thing that happened to the mind. My insecurities about the cleanliness, lack of décor, and absent furnishings—no matter how insignificant—still overpowered everything else that had happened in our relationship. All the while, he’d recently told me his deepest darkest secret, and it was beyond any fear of a messy kitchen. I felt the insecurities all the same. I was eager to look past it all and get to a place where we were entirely comfortable with each other.
“I want to see your place; I’m curious where you live,” I said as I pulled out paper plates and real silverware.
“I’d like that too. But, don’t have high expectations. It’s nothing fancy.”
I pointed around my kitchen. The original cabinetry from the eighties, the stained grout between the white tiles, and the one attempt I’d made at a decoration: a chicken statue. Easton smiled and cocked his head to the side.
“Are there others like you?” I asked, suddenly curious if there could be another him out there.
I watched his face contort as I mindlessly unwrapped the food. Easton took a seat at the kitchen island.
“There are. Not many, I suppose. I’ve only met a few dozen or so.”
“Really? A few dozen?”
“Yeah, um, remember the homeless man outside of the bar?” Easton’s face softened with what I assumed was empathy, maybe sadness.
“Nooo!” I said, drawing out the word.
Easton chuckled, “Yeah, that’s Simon. He’s all but given up. It’s a hard life, and I understand why many choose to drown themselves in drugs and alcohol. They’re just trying to escape.” Easton plated a chicken burrito and doused it in salsa.
It was sad to me too. I never looked past Simon's dirty face. It was becoming a theme in my life—one I’d like to nip. I had so much to learn but so little time.
“He called you something; it was like he knew you . . .”
“Sam?”
“Yeah!”
“The first time we met, my name was Sam. That’s what he’ll always remember me as,” Easton said.
“You get a different name each time?” I asked before taking a bite of my dinner.
“I’m always adopted under the same name. Half of my parents honor my given name—It’s Easton Green, by the way—and half of them change it, sometimes using a variation similar to the original and sometimes changing it altogether. I used to care and legally change my name back the second I turned of age. I don’t care so much anymore.”
“Wow.” I took a moment to let it sink in: multiple lives, multiple names.
“But how did Simon know that you were like him?” I asked, intrigued. I could probably ask questions all night and still not finish.
Easton worked to clear the food in his mouth, holding a napkin over his lips while he chewed.
“Sorry, there’s just so much to understand.” I apologized for the interrogation; it wasn’t very hospitable of me.
“No, don’t be sorry. I like it. I’ve never been able to talk to someone about this before—”
“You’ve never told anyone!?” I blurted out.
“I have—a couple of times. Um, I’ve told one of my best friends before. It didn’t end well. And I’ve told a few parents, all in my early lives. Every time, I regretted it. The worst was when I was put under psychiatric care,” Easton said with a shrug.
My jaw dropped. “But you took a chance telling me,” I stated.
“I did.” Easton put his food down for a moment of reflection.
“Why?”
“God, I knew it was going to go one of two ways. I was so scared, and every life experience I had was telling me not to.” Easton shook his head and stared off into the distance.
“What changed your mind?”
Easton’s focus came back to me. “I couldn’t stunt your chance at love. If you chose to leave me, that would be a valid decision, but I didn’t have the right to make that decision for you.”
“Thank you for giving me a choice.” I smiled at him, realizing that he’d given me a choice, and I wasn’t as stripped of control as I previously thought.
We finished our dinner. The conversation flowed effortlessly, even in my exhausted state. Easton picked a movie about a man able to travel through time. It was no wonder why he proclaimed it as one of his favorites. He lay on the sofa, and I crawled in front of him, careful not to block his view. No matter how mind-bending or heartbreaking the movie may have been, I was never going to last. I fell asleep in Easton’s arms. My guess would have been in the first five minutes.
I felt more at home in Easton’s arms than I ever had in my house alone. And while his arms kept the terror away, I still dreamed of death. At the very least, I was unconscious when the dream played out like a movie; it was much better than being awake and gouging out the backs of my arms and threatening the life of my cell phone. But, even though I was asleep during this particular dream, it still took up residency in my mind the same as a memory would. And I was disappointed when I awoke with a memory of drowning to death. The nightmares hardly seemed fair. I had enough horror to deal with in my real life, and I didn’t need it in my sleep too.
The despair drained from my memory when my eyes focused on Easton. He sat in the recliner, reading a book and sipping coffee from Fresh Grounds. The sunlight brushing the side of his face. I was pleased to see that he had stayed the night.
“Good morning,” Easton said, taking me in.
“Good morning.”
“I brought you a coffee. Thankfully, Lindsay was working, and she knew your order. I think she left you a little note on your coffee sleeve.” Easton held out my coffee.
The note read, “Call me!” I read her message aloud and chuckled. I’d been neglecting her and my family. I knew it wasn’t right, but it was the easiest path for me at the moment. I missed her.
“I see you found the blankets.” I lifted the blanket he had draped over me. I had a small stack of throw blankets in a cupboard tucked away in the hall.
“I didn’t snoop, I—”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you. And thank you for the coffee.” I rarely had coffee upon waking. It was nice.
“Did you sleep OK? I thought about moving you to your bed, but I didn’t want to wake you. You seemed . . . restless,” Easton said.
“Oh, I slept fine. It was just a dream, but . . . um, actually, I slept better than I have in a while. I think it’s because you were here.”
Easton smiled, and I blushed. I hid behind my coffee cup.
“You know, the house gets lonely. And the quieter it gets, the louder my thoughts become.”
Easton nodded without saying anything. Sometimes it was nice just to know somebody understood.
“Well, I’ve got to head out. I have some errands to run. Are you going to be OK today?” Easton closed his book and placed it under his arm.
“Oh! Yeah,” I shook my head. Why wouldn’t I be OK? I had stuff to do too. Like sleep.
“You should call Lindsay. I know it’s hard, but I think it would be good for both of you to spend a little time catching up. It seemed like she missed you.” Easton smiled before turning to leave.
“Yeah, maybe I will,” I muttered. He had always been right in the past; I’m sure this was no exception.
Dear Lindsay, I wrote.
I didn’t call her. Nor did I visit. But I did take a nap, and I was productively writing my goodbye to Lindsay. It was hard work. Draining work. By the end of the letter, I’d need a hot shower to wash away the emotion.
I told her why she was my best friend, and I shared my most hilarious and treasured memories with her. And I told her why I was too much of a coward to talk to her in person. I asked for forgiveness, and I begged her not to feel sad. I wrote my wish that she would only remember me with a smile.
The day had come and gone when I caught wind that Chloe was h
aving a bachelorette party the following weekend. For an introvert such as myself, a bachelorette party was a dreaded event. The thought of pretending to have something in common with a bunch of ladies on a party bus sounded horrendous. Nonetheless, I committed myself to give it my best shot. I owed it to Carter for doubting him. And to be honest, I was a little intrigued to get to know the real Chloe—the one that Carter knew and loved.
Chapter 20
So, what did you say you were going to school for?” I asked the girl next to me.
I’d already forgotten her name. She had a short pixie cut and cute freckles. I wanted to call her Alice, but I knew that wasn’t right. I wouldn’t chance it.
“Um—” she started.
“Suck it!” The crazy one yelled to the one with long blond hair and a penis straw.
The limo bounced, and I tried to hold on to the leather seats. It was uber hot, and the six of us ladies had packed in tight like sardines. The smell of alcohol permeated the air, and I was thankful you couldn’t get drunk off the smell alone. I was taking it easy. I had a weak stomach, I said. It wasn’t entirely untrue.
“Um, I’m just taking general ed classes. I don’t know what I want to do yet,” not Alice, said.
I nodded. It was so awkward when the conversation died. Now I had to do all sorts of work to come up with other questions. I picked up my cell phone as if I had a notification ping that only I could hear. I scrolled through several apps, buying myself time before having to talk to someone again. Chloe was the only one I knew—and not well either. I was hoping we would have some time to get to know each other, but by the looks of the half-empty tequila bottle, and the still setting sun, tonight was going to be a long one and not for talking.
At some point, maybe I could sneak out early. I wouldn’t be missed. That was for sure. The five girls all knew each other from high school, and one of them, as early as elementary. They had all sorts of inside jokes and a plethora of things to talk about. I was the only newcomer. And I was not open to making new friends. Quite the opposite, actually. I was in the market for downgrading. Saying goodbye and closing the door. I shouldn’t have come.
The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 13
