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

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The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 4

by Laura C. Reden


  My dad came up behind me and placed his strong hands on my shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze. The man didn’t know his own strength.

  “Easy, Pops, you’re going to break me!” I spun around and swatted at his chest before hugging him.

  “You’re looking thin. You don’t have weight to lose, my dear. You better eat up tonight,” he said, just as he always did.

  “I will. Don’t worry.” I said as I looked away. I knew he would pick up on my uncertainty if our eyes met. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned the attention to the new girl.

  “So, Pops, what do you make of her?” I gestured towards Chloe with my wine glass. She was laughing with my mom. A fake laugh, no doubt, but Mom didn’t notice. Either that or she didn’t care. She just loved attention any which way it came from.

  Dad turned to watch the show. “She seems nice, you know? We’ve just gotta get to know her.” He gave her the benefit of the doubt. He always saw the glass as half full. My mom did too. I’m not sure how I fell so far from the tree.

  “Don’t you think her dress is a little much?” I raised my eyebrows and took a swig of my wine. Not typically one for stirring the pot, I sure did have something against the girl. Maybe it was that her dress was too short. Her lipstick too loud. Her breasts too perky. Or perhaps, it was the fact that I was dying, and she was not. I shrugged my shoulders to brush off the thought. It was definitely her chest.

  Dad laughed. “Oh, honey. You’re never going to think a girl is good enough for your brother!” he squeezed my shoulder once more.

  “Ah!” I shimmied out of his grip. That wasn’t true, though. There was one girl that I thought was good enough for him. I took my last sip of wine. That was quick. We hadn’t even started dinner. I poured myself the other half. I would take it easy.

  After some more small talk and fake laughter, we all took a seat at the dinner table. I was blessed with the guest seat, the one I liked to call “the short chair.” I sat about six full inches lower than the rest of my family, and I had to straddle the table legs. At this point, the stomach flu was looking pretty good. I would rather be wallowing in the bathtub alone than sitting in the short chair, watching Chloe win over my family with her lipstick teeth.

  Carter tapped his fork along the side of his water glass. “I have an announcement to make. Chloe and I are getting married!”

  “What!” I blurted out.

  Chloe stopped clapping her hands when she took in my expression. Everyone stopped and stared at me.

  “I mean . . . when?” I felt the heat cross my face and run down my back. I took another swig of wine which emptied my glass. I equally needed more and needed to drive my sorry self home. Now would be preferable.

  “Well, we were thinking of April or May. Chloe wants to do it at the Bonnie Ranch inside the red barn,” Carter said, and Chloe squealed, followed by more clapping.

  April was a matter of weeks away. It was too soon. He didn’t even know the girl. Why was I the only one to see this? I stabbed my fork into a meatball while my mind tried to comprehend this unfortunate turn of events. I caught my dad’s empathic eye from across the table. He knew I didn’t like the idea. And from the look on his face, he didn’t either. But my mom was another story. She was thrilled to have wedding bells in her future. She wanted grandchildren.

  They were going on about what flowers Chloe liked and who she might be able to snag for a photographer around here when I couldn’t take it any longer.

  I abruptly stood up. The short chair fell behind me. Making a scene was the last thing I wanted to do. Everyone was staring at me, again. This whole day had been one cluster of ill-fated events. In that moment, I thought for one second. I should just say it. I should say I have cancer. My hands balled up into fists.

  “Oh, honey! I’m so sorry! You had news to share with everyone too!” Mom was trying to help, but that made it so much worse.

  A cold sweat broke out across my neck and chest. Say it! Just say it! Carter rocked back in his full-sized chair and locked his hands behind his head.

  “I . . . I have . . .” Mom had picked up Chloe’s repulsive mannerisms in the blink of an eye. She silently clapped, encouraging me to say it. She looked so happy. Carter and Chloe, while making the biggest mistake of their lives, were happy too. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. These people were cheerful people, made of light and positivity. I couldn’t sweep them up in my tornado of illness. So, I did what I had been doing a lot lately: I lied—a white lie.

  “I have . . . a boyfriend!” I faked a big smile and clapped silently.

  I’d never hated myself more.

  Chapter 5

  A boyfriend! I knew it! I’m going to be a grandma!” Mom waved her hands in the air like she had just won the lottery. Not one potential for grandbabies but two.

  “A grandma? No, Mom, just a boyfriend!” I cleared the air, and relief washed over Dad’s face.

  “Oh, I know that, but first comes love, then comes marriage . . . then comes the baby in the baby carriage!” Mom was having the best night.

  I rolled my eyes. Carter and I shared an exasperated look. Mom could be a bit much at times. The alcohol didn’t help.

  “She’s not pregnant, dear! She’s just got a boyfriend!” Dad looked up at me. “He’s just a boyfriend, right?”

  “Right! God, you guys. Just a boyfriend!”

  Good Lord, these people! If this was how they reacted to my first real (and by real, I mean fake) boyfriend, then I didn’t want to see what would happen when I told them I was dying!

  “Oh, babe, you have to see him! He is so cute! And he’s a charmer that one!” Mom said.

  “Wait. What?” I asked, still standing.

  “Easton, he’s the most wonderful young man! I met him today at Fresh Grounds,” Mom said.

  My stomach dropped. Easton? My boyfriend? I scowled. I tried to see what my mom had seen at the coffee shop. Easton and I talking during my break. It must have looked like we were dating. What did he say to her when he walked her out? My eyes searched the table. It was all too much to take in. Or was it?

  Maybe it could work? Maybe, I wouldn’t have to tell them at all? They could be ignorantly blissful. Everyone could focus on the wedding instead of my health. Hell, I could even pretend that I didn’t know I was sick in the first place! We would never have to talk about our feelings, and we could avoid the sad sympathy looks all together. My mind raced as I mindlessly rubbed my neck. It was a plan born out of fear, yet I saw no other way.

  “Are you just going to stand there dreaming about your dork boyfriend, or are we having dinner?” Carter said, prodding me.

  I snapped out of it and picked up the chair that had fallen behind me. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to run. I’m late, for, um, my date!”

  I gave Mom and Dad a quick hug goodbye while rejecting Mom's several offers for a doggy bag.

  “Congratulations,” I said, quietly to my brother as I hugged him tight. I didn’t have to agree with him to show him loving support. But it wasn’t beneath me to tell him what I really thought when the time was right. But, tonight was not the night for honesty. I said my goodbyes, and I left with my burden. Only this time, it was heavier than when I came in.

  I slammed my truck door closed. My eyes unfocused on the dashboard. That was a disaster! I failed my first real attempt at telling my family. And to be honest, it was most likely my last too.

  I started the truck and made my way home, but not before swinging by the Red Brick Diner. Or as my brother called it, Red Ricks. I drove through the parking lot slowly as I tried to get a glimpse through the windows. There were about half a dozen customers, and I had no idea if any of them were Easton.

  I sighed. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I decided to go home because walking into the diner and ordering pie to go was too embarrassing. As soon as I made the call, though, loneliness crept in like a cold draft. I tried to push it out of my head by turning on the music, but then I remembered why it was off in
the first place. The love song made me think about how I’d never given myself the chance to fall in love. And now, I would never know what it felt like. I didn’t know how to help myself, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. Yeti was waiting for me at home, and she would brighten my day with her big black doe eyes and wagging nub of a tail. She always did.

  As I fumbled for my keys, Yeti scraped on the other side of the door. She was excited to shower me with love. Take my pain away. I was ready for it too. I opened the door, and she came bashing into me. I dropped my bag and kneeled, giving her face a vigorous rub.

  Small bits of tan tattered cloth caught the corner of my vision. I lifted my head above Yeti to find countless pieces of chewed leopard leather all over the floor. The tiny ounce of pleasure my dog gave me quickly vanished. I stood up slowly and walked over to the first rogue leopard spot. It was still wet.

  They were the first pair of brand-name high heels I’d ever bought, not even a week ago. I turned around to scold Yeti. Unleash all of my anger and frustrations about the impossible unfairness of this life! But she was cowering by the front door. If she had a longer tail, it would’ve tucked between her legs. I looked back at the mess on the floor. My fingernails were deep in my palms. There was no one to be angry with but myself. I guess I didn’t have a purpose for shoes that would last me years anyway.

  My bed was as cold and lonely as my heart, and slipping my legs under the blanket was just as miserable as hearing myself think. If there were a way I could shut it off, I would.

  The walls of my bedroom seemed to enclose on me. I felt my heartrate pick up, and I knew I was on the verge of a panic attack. I was barely holding myself together. I scrunched my eyes closed as I thought about Easton’s shoes hanging over the bridge. I didn’t know his story, but I was beginning to empathize with him. Was it possible that he needed a friend too? My breathing began to steady. I shook the homeless man from my thoughts. It was weird I had even let him occupy this much of my mind in the first place. But when I realized that thinking of him made me feel less alone, I had no choice but to allow my mind to wander.

  I reached over and turned off the light on my nightstand, and patted my bed. Yeti jumped up and made her way to the empty spot next to me. It was the space that should’ve been taken by a lover but wasn’t—some day.

  I tapped my pencil ferociously against my binder. My closed binder. My eyes uncrossed when I heard my name called aloud.

  “Miss. Beck? Do you have anything to add?” Mr. Pillson asked.

  Several students looked back at me, causing my stomach to drop. My hands stopped fidgeting as I straightened my back. I shook my head and opened my binder. I wrote Multimedia and Animation across the top of my page. I’d just finished dating the paper when I felt his eyes lingering on me.

  Dawson was my kind of guy. The type of guy whose abs showed through his T-shirt. The type of guy who probably washed his car in his driveway on the weekends—shirtless. He did in my dreams, anyway. It was no surprise that this class held my lowest academic grade. I’d spent most of my time flirting with Dawson. I often tried to talk to him. Every day was the day I was going to be brave. But, just like all the other days before, I would psych myself out at the last minute, and bolt for the door leaving Dawson hanging back in the classroom.

  I was a chicken that way. Never having a real boyfriend put certain pressures on a girl. I didn’t flirt today, but I did hurry out of class. I couldn’t strike up a conversation now.

  I weaved in and out of the student body, up the stairs, and out of the classroom. It was my lunch break. I got a Diet Coke and a bag of Skittles from the vending machine. It wasn’t the healthiest lunch available, but I no longer worried about my health. I had for nearly two decades now, and look where it got me. I took my loot to the tree I liked to sit under. Only this time, I passed it and walked to the parking lot. The ground was too saturated, and unless I wanted to look like I wet myself, I had to eat lunch in my truck.

  I untwisted the Coke cap and took a swig. The carbonation danced in my mouth, and my eyes watered. It was one of my favorite feelings. Sad really. If you asked anyone else what their favorite feeling was, they would probably have a much different answer.

  I watched a girl pass my truck wearing a skirt so short that she didn’t have to bend over for me to see her underwear. I wrinkled my nose. Skittles exploded everywhere in the cab of my truck as I fumbled and the bag ripped open. My lap covered in the rainbow.

  I skipped my next class, Principles of Design and Color, to eat Skittles off my floor mat. There was no point in me getting good grades anymore. I didn’t even know why I came to school today in the first place. I mixed orange and red in my mouth as I took out a piece of paper and wrote.

  Dear Easton . . .

  I wrote several versions of my letter until the Skittles were replaced with crumpled up rejection letters. I stared at my name and number on an otherwise blank piece of paper. At least it was to the point. He would have to appreciate that, given my lack of time left. I shrugged to nobody but myself and finished my Coke.

  The thought of attending my last class was less than appealing. Giving in to my new irresponsible mindset, I started the engine. My focus was now set on three places. The New River Bridge. Red Brick Diner. And lastly, Fresh Grounds. If Easton was the least bit interested in seeing me again, there was a small chance he would be hanging out at one of the spots we had previously seen each other.

  I passed the New River Bridge, but only let off the gas a little. There was no need to slow down to see that Easton wasn’t there. No parked cars and no homeless man standing on the rails. I trudged forward. The crisp air seemed to buzz with electricity. Maybe it was my destiny, maybe it was static, but I had a good feeling about this.

  I turned into the empty parking lot of the diner. This time, I decided to park and head inside. The doorbells jingled as I crossed the threshold, the letter in my hand. I walked up to the bar, scanning the booths for a slender build and pale face with messy hair, and the eyes that made me forget I was sick. My stomach dropped, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why.

  A waitress rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. I recognized those boobs. Sue. I caught myself mid-eye-roll and forced myself to be polite. Maybe she was in a better mood today.

  “Hi! Um, Sue?” I waved my hand, and even though she saw me, she kept walking. I scurried after her. “Sue?” My voice squeaked with the effort.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Sue said and had the audacity to hold her finger up as if I were too dense to understand English. This time, I let my eyes do their thing. Sue busied herself behind the bar as I waited.

  “Hi there! I knew you would be back!” Sue perked up so much that she looked like a different person altogether. Her whole face glowed. I scowled at her obvious distaste for me. I looked over my shoulder to see who the lucky customer was to have won the affections of Sue and her big bust, but I whipped my head back when I saw Easton closing in on me. My eyes bugged, and suddenly, I second-guessed the whole plan.

  Easton placed his hands on the bar next to me. I slowly moved the letter in my hand to the inside of my jacket. I could feel him staring at me, but unlike Dawson from school, I needed something from Easton. I swallowed, refusing to look at him.

  “Hello, Sue. How are you doing today?” Easton said, only quickly taking his eyes off of me. I peeked at him. His hair was the same mop of a mess, and he was wearing his wool coat—still not homeless. Why did I keep thinking this man was homeless?

  “I’m doing better now that you’re here, darling! What can I get you?” Sue whipped the dish towel over her shoulder.

  “Ladies first,” Easton gestured to me. My eyes met Sue’s and her one raised eyebrow.

  I swallowed again. “I’ll have the pie. To go.” It was even more embarrassing than I’d imagined last night. “Please,” I said just under my breath. I knew it didn’t mean anything to her. Still, I had to say it for me.

  When Sue turned awa
y, I looked up at Easton. “You found me,” I said, unsure of myself. My cheeks warm, and my forehead creased. Easton smiled and pulled out a blue vinyl barstool and sat. I followed his lead.

  Sue slid a box across the counter and handed me a check. “And what can I get for you, sir?” She shimmied her shoulders, too excited to stand still. I sat in front of the to-go container awkwardly.

  “I’ll have the same. It looks delicious. Did you make it yourself?” Easton asked.

  “I did! How did you know that?” Sue placed her hand on her hip.

  “Oh, just a hunch!” Easton leaned over the bar. “Between you and me, I don’t think Bill is much of a baker!” Easton said, in a hushed voice, and Sue squealed. She looked back into the kitchen at who I presumed was Bill and giggled as she swatted the air.

  I couldn’t believe Easton put the time and effort into making her so happy. It probably wasn’t much work on his side, but it sure did make her day. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to make someone’s day, too. Not Sue’s, though.

  Chapter 6

  Sue placed a warm slice of blackberry pie in front of Easton, complete with a napkin and fork. I looked down at my cold pie inside of its to-go box.

  “Can I have a fork, please?” I asked Sue. I forced a smile, but she never looked to see it. I suppose it was too late to ask for a plate.

  “Funny how we keep running into each other,” I said, knowing very well I came to the Red Brick Diner looking for him. I wondered if he was here doing the same. Sue placed a fork in front of me, and I smiled, but I didn’t look to confirm my rejection. There was only so much a girl could take.

 

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