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 9

by Laura C. Reden


  It was lunch break when I had three complete letters resting in my notebook. I stepped out of the truck to use the restroom and hit up the vending machine one more time. The wet grass beneath my shoes, the chilly spring air, and the buzzing studentry were invigorating enough to make me want to attend my last class. And that I did.

  It would be one of the last times, though. I couldn’t concentrate in the least. I found myself looking at the students one by one and wondering what their lives were really like.

  Was her skirt so short because she didn’t have a loving father? Did she show off her body because it was the only way she knew how to get attention from men? Or did she simply like the way it looked on her?

  My eyes floated to a guy who was unquestionably the high school outcast. He most likely played in the band and had never been to third base. His acne would have prevented him from getting close to anyone. I wondered when he would peak. He would be rich in his forties, own a large advertising firm, and do it all with ease. He’d have a clear complexion, too. I wished I could tell him to wait just a little longer—that his time would come.

  I looked down at my keyboard and smiled when I seriously considered telling the outcast my premonition. Trying very much to be like Easton at the diner, my intentions would be golden, but it would come out all wrong. I would end up telling him that one day he would no longer be a virgin, and his zit face would clear up. All he would take away from the conversation was that he was a loser, and I’d end up doing more harm than good. My smile faded as I concluded that I didn’t have Easton’s touch. And some things are better left alone.

  When I pulled into my driveway, I was shocked to see my mom’s car waiting for me. Damn. I was going to hear it from my mom. This and that. Me not answering my phone . . .

  “Mom?” I called out to her.

  “Everly? Where have you been!? I’ve been worried sick over you. The least you could do is answer your mother's phone calls!” She shook her head in aggravation and continued. “You don’t answer your phone for two days! You weren’t at work! Lindsay said you never came in or called out si—”

  “Mom! Please, stop.”

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head. Ugh. Now I have to deal with this too? I noted the clutch on the ground, right where it had landed. My shattered phone on the entry table. Had she seen it?

  “Why don’t you go to the living room, let me get changed, and I’ll make you some tea.” I coaxed her away from the phone, and when she was out of sight, I hid it under a school binder.

  “You can’t do that again. Do you understand me? Just because you live in this house and not under our roof doesn’t give you the right not to call me back. I’m your mother! And I always will—”

  “Mom! I get it. Please. I won’t do it again!” I shrugged. There was nothing else I could say. The next time would surely be the last.

  “OK, OK!” My mom held her palms up to show her compliance. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night, and your father and I want you to bring that boy you’re seeing. I think you owe us that after this little stunt you pulled.” Mom gestured to the space between us.

  Just when I was about to swear Easton off altogether, I needed him to appease my parents. Funny how that works. I imagined his face through the peephole, and I cringed. If I wanted him to come to my parents for dinner and pretend to be my boyfriend, I was going to have to explain to him what happened the night I slammed the door in his face. I would rather die.

  “Sure, Mom. Tomorrow. I’ll see if he’s available. There’s a chance he’ll be busy, but I’ll ask anyway.”

  I took off my jacket and made my mom a black tea. She followed me into the kitchen, telling me the latest news regarding the wedding. I kept my mouth shut when Mom said that Chloe wanted daisies on every table. There was nothing romantic about daisies.

  “What is that?” Mom came up behind me and grabbed at my arm.

  My stomach dropped as I yanked my arm back to my side. I took a quick peek. It was nasty—all five fingernails. The scabs like crescent moons.

  “Is that boy hurting you!?”.

  “No!” I stood with my mouth open, ready to explain anything that would clear Easton’s name, but nothing came. It made him look all the more guilty.

  “Oh, honey!” Mom said, her voice about to crack with emotion and her eyes glassing over.

  “No, seriously, Mom. It’s not—”

  My mom collided with me, wrapping her arms around my back and squeezing tight. God, what did I get myself into?

  “You’re not listening to me!” I pushed away from her embrace. Her eyes were red, her heart breaking for me. And she didn’t even know the truth. She couldn’t handle the truth. It was a good reminder.

  “I did it,” I said—shame pouring out of me for losing control and for being too cowardly to admit why.

  “You? Why would you do that? No, that’s a man’s hand! I can tell!” Mom grabbed my hand, now angry that I was covering for my boyfriend.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and placed each finger in its hole, aligning the nails with the scabs. Mom stared in revelation. I think it hurt her more to know the person she loved was also the one she needed to protect me from. It would have been easier for her to wrap her head around a guy mishandling me. At least then, she could be angry. Now, she didn’t know what to feel.

  “It was an accident. I had a . . . panic attack, and it kind of just took over. I was trying to comfort myself with the security of a hug, but I was just too aggressive, I guess. I didn’t even know I was doing it. I’m not trying to hurt myself, I promise.” I said.

  “A panic attack?”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get them. They’ve been coming on over the last couple of months. All the stress, I guess.”

  “What stress?” she asked, catching me in my lies.

  I had no right to stress. I was twenty-two, worked in a coffee shop, and went to school for the arts.

  “Self-inflicted stress?” I asked, unsure if that was even a thing.

  “Maybe you should talk to someone? You know Maggie down the street has this counselor she’s been—”

  “Mom, no, I don’t need to see anyone. Um, actually, Easton’s been helping me get through it!”

  “He is?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you know, he talks to me in the middle of the night if I can’t sleep. We text all the time. He makes me laugh. He’s really good for me.” I threw it all at her . . . anything I could to put her worried mind to rest.

  Mom nodded and ran her hands down my arms. “OK, then. You just let me know if you need that number,” she began.

  “I will let you know, but as of right now, I’m just fine.”

  “OK, dear,” Mom said, her voice laced with worry.

  “What time tomorrow?” I asked. I had quite the show to put on now.

  Chapter 13

  Beck! Where have you been!” Lindsay hissed at me when I walked behind the bar at Fresh Grounds.

  “A caramel frappe. Toffee and whipped cream on top,” I whispered back.

  Lindsay’s eyes grew dark. “I was worried,” she said.

  I sighed, not wanting to deal with her emotions. Mine were already too much to bear. “I’m sorry. I’ll call next time.”

  “Kim, can you take over the register?” Lindsay asked the girl that was busying herself with the espresso beans. She was new and not yet comfortable with the register. Or the lattes. Or common sense. I gave her an encouraging smile as Lindsay pulled me into the back room.

  “What the hell has been going on with you? You didn’t show up for work, and both your mom and Easton came by looking for you. You didn’t ca—”

  “Easton came by?” I asked.

  Lindsay frowned at my selective hearing.

  After a long sigh, the hand on her hip fell to her side, and she said, “Yes. He came by yesterday. He said you weren’t answering your phone . . . are you OK?”

  “Yeah,” I looked to my feet. My stomach sank, as I knew my acting skil
ls were subpar.

  “Beck?” Lindsay prompted.

  I looked into her eyes. My throat burned as the weight on my chest threatened to crush me.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Lindsay’s shoulders dropped. She thought about it for a moment before allowing me my privacy. She was a good friend. The best.

  “You know Jacob isn’t too happy with you, either. I lied and told him that you called in sick, but I wasn’t on the schedule that day, so my story kind of fell to shit. You should pick up some extra hours or something to get back in his good graces.”

  “I’m not worried about Jacob,” I said.

  Jacob was my manager. It always bothered me that he was our age and carried no more managing skills than Lindsay or me. I was convinced that he had gotten the position because he was the only man that applied to work at the coffee shop when it opened. If he had a problem with me not coming into work, he could fire my ass.

  “I’ll make your drink,” Lindsay said.

  I took my schedule from Jacob’s desk and frowned when I saw that I was supposed to work the night shift tomorrow. It would take a little effort on my part, but I was pretty sure Kim would fold and cover my shift.

  “Hey, Kim? Can you cover for me tomorrow night? I have dinner plans.” I called to her while she busied herself with unnecessary cleaning.

  “Sorry! I’ve got plans.” Kim’s squinty eyes tried to look apologetic. I wasn’t expecting Kim to be anything but meek. As disappointed as I was, I was also a tad impressed that she turned me down.

  I sighed and spun around to find Lindsay with my drink in hand.

  “I’ll cover you,” she said and handed me my drink. Whipped cream exploded out of the top, and toffee pressed against the clear lid.

  “Oh my God, thank you! Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?”

  We both chuckled, but I think that deep down, she knew it was true. We had been friends since we were kids, and while other friends came and went, she was my one constant.

  “Oh! I almost forgot! I have your sister’s dress in my truck!”

  I retrieved the dress. The sun was warm on my shoulders, and the caffeine had lifted my spirits already. My eyes wandered the street, searching for Easton, hoping he would come around today as well. He was nowhere in sight, though.

  After patching up my misstep with Lindsay, I went home knowing that my phone should now be fully charged. I had to call Easton, but I feared he would not be so forgiving.

  I waited until evening to call. Pacing around my house, holding my shattered phone in my hands. I was too much of a chicken to listen to the message he had left me. I’m sure it said something about how I ended our date, and I didn’t want to relive the embarrassment. I knew I was an idiot. If it were up to me, I would end my relationship with Easton now. Pretend I didn’t have fun at the wedding and that my feelings for him were nonexistent. But it wasn’t up to me. Not if I had my mom to appease. No, I needed Easton for my charade. How did my life get so complicated right when it was supposed to wind down?

  The phone rang in my hands. Easton Green. I stiffened but answered. “Hello?”

  “Everly?” Easton asked.

  “Yeah, hi.” I started to pace again, making small circles around my living room.

  “I haven’t heard from you. Are you OK?” he asked. The worry in his voice reduced me to guilt.

  “Yeah!” I said. My voice high and fake.

  Easton waited for the truth. He somehow knew me better than most, and yet not at all.

  “Um, I just had a momentary lapse of self-pity. If that’s what you would call it.” I stopped my fidgeting around the room and leaned against a window. A bird scratched through the dirt, looking for food.

  “Yeah. That’s a pity party, alright.” Easton said in a voice no different than if he were confirming the name of a rare insect. I smiled at his understanding.

  “Why wasn’t I invited?” he asked.

  My smile grew, and the worry slipped away. “I didn’t know that was your kind of party?”

  “I’m so down to party! I would have brought the sorrow strobe light . . .” I laughed out loud as he continued. “The pity piata . . . the blue balloons—”

  “OK! OK! Next time, you're invited!”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Easton paused for a moment. “Everly?” he asked.

  “Beck . . . Call me, Beck.” My heart melted. I hadn’t planned on letting anyone else in. But there he was, making his way into my heart—one word at a time.

  “Beck, I mean it. We can put on sad movies, and you can cry on my shoulder and pretend it’s about the movie. I’ll bring ice cream or just lie next to you when you want to shut out the world. Just don’t shut me out too, OK?”

  I took a seat on my sofa and mused over his offer. It was an inviting thought. I didn’t want to do it alone.

  “OK. But only because your pity parties sound so much better than mine.” I laughed off the heaviness of the conversation.

  “They are. I can guarantee it!”

  “Oh, hey Easton. I have to ask a favor of you.” I jumped up and began to pace again. This was the worst part.

  “Yeah?”

  “My parents want to meet my boyfriend . . . tomorrow.” I cringed, saying the word boyfriend. My eyes shut tight, awaiting his response.

  “Oh, wait. Is that me?” Easton said.

  “Yes! Please?” Biting my lip couldn’t help his answer come any faster, but I still tried.

  “OK, I suppose I could make you kiss me—just one more time, though.” Easton let out an exasperated sarcastic sigh.

  I laughed out loud and was grateful he couldn’t see the warmth in my cheeks.

  “What! That’s not part of the deal, buddy.” I played hard to get while my heart fluttered with anticipation for the promise of a kiss.

  I didn’t have to wait for dinner the next night; it came quicker than a blink of an eye. I wore a plushy pink lipstick and tucked away my nerves. I filled Easton in on who he would meet on the short ride over to my parents’ house.

  “My dad is super easy to get along with; as long as you show him attention, he’ll love you. My brother will probably be more difficult to get to know. His name is Carter, and he will have his fiancée, Chloe, with him. Don’t mind her; she’s . . . well, you’ll see. And you know my mom, so—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this. You know I went to The Acting Academy of Thomas Kelter?”

  “You did!?” I asked, shocked.

  “No,” he said.

  I slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand.

  “But you believed me, didn’t you?” Easton’s expression lightened up, and his dimples drew deep.

  I wanted to reach out and touch him again. This time, by the handful. I was in an impossible position. I was falling for this guy. But he didn’t know it, and I had to keep it that way. On the contrary, my family had to believe the exact opposite.

  “Oh no! All this time I was worried about you, but you’re a natural! I didn’t even consider me! I can’t act! I’m the worst! Everyone sees through my lies! Besides, you and I barely know each other!” My eyes bulged, and I fanned my face.

  “Beck, don’t even worry. Just act natural. We’re friends, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You like me, right?”

  I nodded but a bit slower this time.

  “Just act like you’re hanging out with your friend. Which you are.”

  I continued to bob my head as Easton pulled into my parents’ driveway. Carter was already here. Easton was right. No acting was required of me. My admiration for Easton was clear to see, and my parents wouldn’t need to look further.

  We began to walk to the front door, Easton grabbed my hand effortlessly, and through the ease of it all, I forgot it was an act.

  He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “But this time, when I kiss you, try not to look so surprised.”

  Words of wisdom laced with promise. My ey
es grew as my mom opened the door before us.

  “Honey!” Mom reached her arms out for a grand hug, holding on much longer than usual.

  “Hi, Mom. You remember Easton.” I gestured to the calm and collected man beside me.

  Not a hint of nervousness resided in his face. I marveled at him while my mom embraced him tightly and whispered, “Thank you for taking care of my baby,” in his ear. I tried to ignore it, and Easton did a good job of pretending he knew what she was talking about.

  “Always,” he simply said. And I knew that wasn’t part of the act. Mom felt it too.

  The smell of spaghetti collided with boisterous introductions. Pop took to Easton immediately, as I had imagined he would. Carter shook Easton’s hand with a sideways glare.

  I hugged Chloe hello and found myself pleased that her lipstick and outfit were more subdued tonight. But even though her lips were mauve, her energy was still fire hydrant red. She wasn’t the one for my brother, and I prayed he would see it before he walked down the aisle.

  “Hey, there’s my girl!” Before turning back to Easton, my dad squeezed me tightly. “Do you like hockey?” he asked.

  It was my cue to leave the men to their sports and grab a glass of wine. I smiled at Easton as he accepted a beer from my dad, and his expression reassured me that he was more than equipped to handle himself alone.

  I got a glass of wine and joined my mom in the kitchen. “It smells great, Mom. Thanks for having us,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you brought Easton! Your dad has wanted to meet him. Just look at them! They’re hitting it off, don’t you think?” she asked.

  Chloe and I turned to follow my mom’s gaze. Easton had the floor. He was telling some elaborate story, his arms reached out wide, and my dad laughed. Carter stood an extra couple feet away, and he chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. My brother glanced over at me, and I tried to give him a look that asked he at least try to get to know Easton. I could see him roll his eyes from across the room, but then he took one step closer.

 

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