Frozen in shock, I needed a moment to take it all in. Buttered garlic swirled under my nose, and despite my distaste for the lecture, my mouth began to water.
I didn’t want pity, and his brutal honesty is what I had just asked for, so I couldn’t fault him for it.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked, trying to understand my ever-changing emotions.
“Mad? I’m not mad at you. You just need to hear the truth. Sometimes it hurts a little, but I’ve just vowed to be honest with you, so my relationship with you will be very different from my relationship with Sue at the diner. Does that make sense?” Easton asked as he tore apart his steak.
“You mean you don’t think Sue has the prettiest eyes?” A small smile crept across my face as I began to forgive my new friend for snapping at me. Yes, the truth hurt, but the thought of not having him at all hurt more. Easton’s eyes grew large, and his smile said what he did not.
“Look. This thing between you and I . . . it's different, right?” Easton motioned between us with his fork.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“You don’t have time for games, right?” he continued.
“No,” I said, totally drawn in. I think I liked where this was going.
“So, let’s just lay it all out on the table? Yes?” He nodded, willing me to do the same.
“Yes!” I said enthusiastically.
“You need a fake boyfriend to keep your parents in the dark because you’re a coward and can’t tell them the truth about your diagnosis,” he said as I nodded greedily. It was all out in the raw open air, and I felt liberated.
“You’re too afraid of pity, so you haven’t told any of your friends. You’re lonely beyond belief, and you need company.” A smile spread across his face. “My company,” he said.
I continued to agree.
“So, let’s just do the damn thing! Let’s be as real and as greedy as we need to be. And let’s get you through the next several months.” The candle’s flame danced in Easton’s eyes.
“Yes! Can we do that, please?” I asked. It was more than I ever knew I wanted. Who knew the truth could be so freeing?
Easton slammed his palm down on the table and our silverware clamored. “Yes!” he said—seemingly louder than he’d anticipated. He hunched and looked around nervously.
I felt electric. More alive than I had in a long time.
“OK, we’ve got to get to work! Hold on.” Easton got up from the table and walked away. Where was he going? I waited impatiently, still too excited to eat.
Easton returned with a take-out menu and a pen. “OK, tell me all the things you’ve wanted to do in your life but haven’t yet.” Easton held the pen to the paper.
“Like a bucket list?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah, like a bucket list. Do you have one?” he asked, staring into my eyes.
“No. I mean, not yet!” I said.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Easton shook his pen at me, and I smiled, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be under his praise.
“Um . . . I’ve never seen the northern lights!” I said, rushed, and Easton scribbled it down.
“I’ve never bungee jumped! I’ve never gone camping! Or gotten a tattoo.” It was all just spilling out.
Easton stopped writing and peeked up at me. “Wait, these are things that you want to do, not just stuff you’ve never done,” he clarified, his forehead creased as he looked up at me with those eyes.
“I know!” I said, just as confused as he was.
“Nobody wants to go camping,” he said.
I laughed aloud. “I do! I want to sleep under the stars and roast marshmallows!” I nodded my head as he shook his in disagreement.
“That’s not—”
“Just write it down!” I said.
“OK,” he muttered and began to write again. Our food was starting to get cold, but neither one of us paid it any mind.
“I want to ride a horse on the beach. I want to skinny dip . . . or go streaking! I want to crash a wedding!”
The word wedding stung as soon as it left my mouth. The fun had been replaced by an ache in my chest. My eyes settled on the dancing flame of the scentless candle on our table.
“I’ll never get married, or dance at my wedding. I’ll never fall in love . . .” The realization that my bucket list was impossible to fill was devastating. I sank in my seat. My throat burned as I held back my tears.
Easton continued to write, and I drowned myself in wine, proceeding to flag our waiter over to ask for a refill.
“Hey, weddings are overrated anyway.” Easton shrugged, careful not to mention that falling in love was . . . totally worth it. But I could read between the lines, and I wondered what epic love story he had already experienced or would in his long life.
“Yeah, totally overrated.” I shook away my tears. “Hey! We have to make your bucket list too,” I said, trying to sound optimistic. I reached my hand across the table for my turn with the menu and pen.
Easton froze. He didn’t like the idea as much as I did. “We don’t have to do that. Let’s just focus on you,” he said and looked back to the menu.
“No! Come on. Don’t be like that!” I protested and flapped my hand, begging for the menu.
“I’ve done a lot of stuff already; there’s not much more for me to do,” Easton said and batted my hand away.
I wouldn’t accept his nonsense. “You’re my age. What, like twenty-two, twenty-five? How have you done everything you want to do already?” I shook my head, not believing my “honest” friend.
Easton rolled his eyes before caving. He slid me the pen and menu. I silently cheered and took them from him. I flipped the menu over and wrote his name at the top.
“Ready!” I said.
“I’ve never crashed a wedding with you . . . I’ve never gone camping with you,” Easton started in a slow and soothing voice.
My heart sank. “I’ve never danced at your wedding,” he said, and my tears threatened to spill over again.
I didn’t write anything on the menu. I just nodded and gazed into his eyes. We shared a moment of understanding. Neither one of us needed to say what we felt to know that it was kind, compassionate, and completely mutual. I didn’t know his reasons for needing our friendship, but I knew the desire was shared.
Chapter 8
I’ll take it to go, please,” I said to our waiter. Having only eaten a couple of bites, there was a possibility of me getting hungry later tonight. Easton read me his number as I entered the digits in my phone.
“You have to promise to call me if you need anything,” he said with raised eyebrows.
“I promise. You too.” I said.
“Any time of day or night, OK?”
I nodded my head. “I promise I’ll call you,” I said and smiled. “You too! This goes both ways.” I pointed my finger at him in a flirtatious manner. He enjoyed it.
The waiter brought us our check, and I considered a way to right my wrong about the missing button on his shirt but ultimately decided I had dug a hole I couldn’t climb out of. Easton paid, and I thanked him. I took the last sip of my wine before standing up and grabbing my purse. Where were all of the people? The restaurant was nearly empty. I checked my watch, it was almost 10:00 p.m.
“We’ve been here for four hours!?” I asked Easton, bewildered.
He checked the time on his phone and seemed to be surprised too. “Really?” he looked at me like someone was playing a trick on us, and I laughed. He placed his hand between my shoulder blades as we walked out of the restaurant. It was a friendly gesture, but it still made me blush, just a little.
I paused momentarily when I recognized someone I knew at the bar. Hope. I lifted onto my tippytoes, trying to get a look at the guy she was with. I was just like everyone else in Clover. Nosey.
“Someone you know?” Easton asked, looking at the couple at the bar.
“Yeah, that’s Hope.” I looked back at Easton as he took her in.
&
nbsp; She was the girl next door. Not literally, but physically. She was beautiful, but most men looked it over, including my brother. He was too blind to see that she had feelings for him. Hope was his perfect match, and by the looks of it, she had started dating again. I frowned and kept walking.
“She’s the girl I wanted my brother to marry, but he’s too dense to see that she’s the total package. Now, he’s marrying some bimbo.” I filled Easton in as our walk slowed to a crawl. He opened the door for me, and the cold air nipped at my nose.
“A bimbo! Is that right?” Easton laughed. “I haven’t heard that one in a while.”
I rolled my eyes at him. Chloe didn’t appear to have brains—just a pretty exterior. I scowled when I realized that I had always gone for the same type. Perhaps it ran in the family.
“She’s the dating type, not the marrying type if you get my drift,” I said as I dug for my keys in my purse.
“Got it. So what’s the deal with Hope then?” Easton asked, his hands tucked deep into his pockets.
“Well, our families used to be good friends when we were younger. They lived in the neighborhood. She always had a crush on my brother. He thought she had cooties. When they were fresh out of high school, they worked together at the supermarket. They spent all their breaks together and became fast friends. It was clear that she never lost feelings for him, but my brother never took the bait. I don’t know why.” I shrugged, looking back into Hunters’ windows, but they were too dark to see inside.
“Maybe, it wasn’t meant to be.” Easton said.
I shrugged, not yet convinced. “I had a great night. Thank you.” It was the most comfortable truth of the night.
Easton smiled back at me. “Thank you for not blowing me off. I thought there was a chance after my stunt in the parking lot today!” He laughed and looked down at his feet.
My stomach lurched at the mention of our kiss. I shoved him playfully.
“I’ll get you for that. Someday,” I promised him. I got into my truck and started the engine. Easton stayed by my door side. I rolled my window down a notch.
“Don’t forget to call if you need me!” he reminded me.
I lifted my phone and gave it a shake. Then, I pulled out of the parking spot and made my way home with an empty belly and a full heart.
Easton’s friendship was enough to keep the terrors away that night. My house was empty, but my mind was occupied. The bed was cold but not unbearable. And I was dying . . . but not tonight.
My alarm blared, waking me again. It was the fourth time I’d hit snooze, and each time I’d fallen fast asleep. I finally turned the alarm off altogether and rolled over. Not today. Work was the least of my concerns. Yeti rolled onto her back, wiggling and scratching, causing the bed to shake and my eyes to open. The more conscious I became, the more guilty I felt. Lindsay would be expecting me. I couldn’t let her down. I groaned as I threw off the covers. I should just quit. Both school and work. I contemplated the idea as I got dressed and brushed my teeth. Maybe I wasn’t ready to have full days of loneliness, but at some point, I wouldn’t have another choice.
The silent drive to work got me thinking of my date last night. I’d be lying if I said I’d thought of anything else. A simple drive through Clover, and the diner lifted my spirits. Passing Hunters was equally uplifting. And Fresh Grounds made me flush with embarrassment when I thought of Easton warming up to my mom. A small pang of guilt seeped into my mind as I put my truck into park. Was I using Easton?
When I walked into Fresh Grounds, I was pleased to see Greg’s camel jacket in line. The smell of coffee and all things pastry told me I’d made the right decision coming in to work. I whispered my order to Lindsay before checking into my cash register.
“Greg, I can help you over here.” I waved him over. “How are you doing today?” I asked as I started putting in his order.
“I’m good. I’m good. I’ll have the regular,” he said, pulling out his wallet.
“And how is Carol?” I asked.
“She’s good. She’s all wrapped up in this book where a boy freezes himself. He wakes up twenty years later and falls in love. She says it’s captivating but won’t tell me the ending. Says I have to read it myself. She knows I don’t read that stuff.” Greg batted his hand across the air.
I laughed and took his money. “Maybe you would like it?”
“Me? No . . . I don’t want to read about love. That’s for you girls!” Greg shook his head as if I were crazy.
I giggled. “Your order will be right out.”
“Thanks, Beck.”
The line was small today. I grabbed my latte from Lindsay, and we chatted as I practiced making a heart out of foam.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend!?” Lindsay hissed like the milk steamer.
My cheeks flushed, and for a moment, I contemplated which side of the truth she would fall on.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Shit. Wrong side.
“He’s not? Because your mom came in here yesterday,” Lindsay started.
“I just said that to her so I could get her off my back! Carter’s engaged now, and my mom has been riding me about never having a boyfriend. She brings it up all the time.” This part was true. She did bring it up whenever she could. “He’s just a friend,” I said, turning my latte heart into a cloud. I was surprised by how the last part was the part that made me feel guilty. He was a friend, but in a lot of ways, he was more than that, too.
“Oh shit! It was so bad that you had to make up a boyfriend?” Lindsay laughed hard enough to fold in half and slap her hand on the bar several times.
I grabbed Greg’s coffees and set them on the ledge. “Greg, your order is ready!” I called out to him.
“So wait, wait . . . does that guy know? Because your mom sat down with him for a while! Lord knows what she told him!” Lindsay blotted her left eye with the back of her hand.
“I mean, yeah, I had to tell him.” I couldn’t help but smirk. Her laugh was so over the top, it finally got to me.
“Actually, I had dinner with him last night. I had to tell him the whole thing. It was utterly embarrassing!” Among other things . . .
“Thanks, Greg! Tell Carol to enjoy that book!” I waved goodbye.
“I will!” Greg held up his coffees.
Lindsay threw her hand on her hip. “No!” Her mouth opened into an elongated O.
I nodded.
“How did you even meet this guy?” Lindsay prodded.
I pictured the torrential downpour of the storm and Easton’s wet hair plastered to the side of his face, his body shivering. He was a different person at that moment. I hadn’t seen that guy since the bridge.
“School,” I said, but it came out sounding more like a question than a statement. I was relieved when I heard customers walk in. I thought it would end there, but it didn’t. Lindsay poked and prodded about Easton all day. I grew tired of dodging her questions, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my lies in order.
It was almost time for me to get off work when I got a text from Easton. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and smiled instantly when I saw his name.
Easton: What are you doing?
I typed as fast as I could.
Me: Working.
I waited for his reply, careful not to let Lindsay see.
Easton: I’ll be there in ten.
My eyes widened, and a wave of heat blanketed my back as I felt my cheeks pinken. I tucked my phone in my pocket and raked my fingers through my hair, trying to comb out a day's work.
“You OK?” Lindsay asked. She was oddly perceptive.
“Yeah!” I furrowed my brows . . . because why wouldn’t I be OK?
How would she react when Easton came in? I hoped she wouldn’t say anything.
Every time the door opened, I jumped, and Lindsay observed my sudden shift in mood.
When Easton finally walked through the doors, my stomach dropped. I was nervous all over again. Every time was like
the first time.
“Oh! Oh!” Lindsay started, slapping my hip beneath the countertop.
“Shhh!” I hissed back at her. Easton saw the shuffled exchange between us, and it caused a stifled grin to appear on his face.
“You must be the infamous Easton?” Lindsay asked.
Shit! Here we go!
“Hi!” I said, taking off my apron and walking out from behind the bar to convey that this was not a three-way conversation.
“I have a proposition for you,” Easton said into my ear as we walked into the corner of the coffee shop that resembled a used book store.
“A proposition?” I asked. I didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t need to say any more. I was in.
“Do you have plans tonight?” Easton’s face lit up while he waited for my answer.
“Tonight? Um, no . . .” I was already planning what to wear in my head.
“OK, I’ll pick you up at eight?” he asked, just as excited as I was.
I nodded. “Sure, I’ll text you my address,” I said, still unsure of what I was getting myself into.
Easton’s grin widened as he started to step back towards the door.
“Wait, what do I wear?” I perked up.
“A dress.” Easton gave me one last smirk before turning around.
Oh, no! Not a dress! I stood in the corner of the coffee shop, scowling. I knew I didn’t have a dress. I hadn’t worn one since prom, and I was pretty sure that when he said dress, he didn’t mean a fuchsia floor-length gown. I was so distraught I didn’t hear Lindsay when she came up behind me.
“Did you just break up with your fake boyfriend? Cause you look knocked sideways,” she said,” trying to read my face.
I closed my mouth and looked at her square in the eyes.
“Do you have a dress I could borrow?” I searched her eyes for the yes I so desperately needed.
“Um, yeah. I have a few dresses?” she started.
“Thank you! Oh my God, thank you!” I gave her a quick hug.
“What’s going on?” Lindsay asked as we made our way back behind the counter.
The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 6