“Oh, he is a cutie! I love that . . . thing he’s got going on.” Chloe waved her hand above her head.
“Yeah, he’s got this hair that—actually it just works—whether it's been styled, or not. It even looks good when it’s soaking wet.” My eyes unfocused into a distant memory.
“Soaking wet! Ooh, that sounds like a story to me!” Chloe lifted her shoulders to her ears and brought her hands together in prayer. Her fingers tapping ever so slightly into the world's smallest clap. It took everything I had not to express my true thoughts. She wasn’t evil; I knew that. It’s not like I wished ill will on the girl; I just wished she would find a better match for herself. Someone more . . . I don’t know. Shallow.
“There’s no story. He’s just a really nice guy, that’s all.” I tried to squash the curiosity burning in Chloe’s eyes.
“He is a nice guy,” Mom said. “He’s been there to help Beck with her anxiety.”
Mom threw salt into the boiling water. She never thought about keeping her mouth shut. I was used to it by now. She wore her heart on her sleeve and her mind in her mouth.
“Ohhh,” Chloe cooed and her doe eyes widened. I could see the emptiness that resided within. Did she know what anxiety meant?
“What can I help you with, Mom?” I asked, eager to move the conversation along.
Carter came up behind Chloe and wrapped his arm around her waist. He stole a kiss on her neck, and I looked away.
Mom brushed my offer aside. “Nothing, dear. I’ve got it all done, anyway.”
“So, you really like that guy?” Carter asked, not bothering to hide his feelings the way I did with his fiancée.
I glanced over to Easton; my dad had him fully engaged in the hockey game as he pointed to the screen.
“Yeah, I really like that guy,” I said as natural as it came. The conversation moved onto the wedding, but my eyes continued to rest on Easton. I couldn’t quite grasp how he managed to look so relaxed. As if he were home amongst his own family.
Chapter 14
I don’t know if it were the warmth of the crackling fire or my apprehension about the topic at the dinner table, but I was sweating bullets. My dad asked Easton how we met, and I was very aware that the truth wasn’t a story that could be told. Easton and I shared a quick glance before he chose to rescue me from my atrocious acting skills.
“We met on the New River Bridge,” Easton began.
The heat poured over me, and even though I had been keeping my jacket on to hide the self-inflicted pain I displayed on the back of my arms, I could no longer survive being trapped inside the furnace. I shrugged off my jacket and pulled my hair into a ponytail.
“The New River Bridge! Is that right?” My dad engaged.
“Yes, sir. I was driving home from work when I saw Beck standing on the side of the road. She was looking at her flat tire like it was a UFO.”
Dad laughed and slapped the table. Even Carter chuckled.
“Ain’t that right!” Dad held his beer up towards me. I raised my glass of wine as I rolled my eyes. Easton was so good at this, I couldn’t help but wonder why.
“Now, I was in no position to pass a pretty lady in distress. So, I pulled over. After fixing her tire, I asked her out on a date. To this day, I’m not sure if she wanted to or if she did it as a favor, but I like to think I won her over that night.” Easton locked eyes with mine and slid his hand onto my knee. “The rest is history,” he said.
I barely noticed how happy my mom was. I was too busy basking in the freefall. I don’t know how he did it; every word out of his mouth was something to remember and reflect on. He had so much heart, I wondered how he could contain it. I reached down to his hand and squeezed it. We were acting like a couple, true, but we both knew nobody could see our interlocking hands under the table. That one was for us.
When everyone had their fill of dinner, I shrugged my jacket back on so that nobody would see. I helped my mom clean the dishes, and Easton attempted to win over my brother. It was no easy task, but I applauded him for trying. Mom scraped the leftover meatballs into a container, and Chloe collected placemats as she rambled on about the recipe she followed for the chocolate mousse pie she brought. As unsettled as the nerves had made my stomach, I was pretty sure there was a separate compartment made of steel that only always accepted dessert.
When the kitchen had been put back together, I rescued Easton from my brother. If he was as relieved as I imagined he should be, he didn’t show it. He followed me to my parent's back patio. Small and quaint. A rose garden with a fountain and a view of the night’s starry sky. I took a deep breath of the refreshing cold air and walked to the back fence line. The furthest away from the house, with the most privacy.
“How are you holding up?” I asked Easton.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m solid. How are you?”
“I’m good. I can’t thank you enough for coming tonight. You’ve made my mom very happy.” Easton wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and though the cool air felt nice, I huddled close to him.
“I’m glad she’s happy. You have an amazing family. You should consider yourself lucky,” Easton said.
“Lucky?” I asked.
“Well, you know what I mean.” He shrugged.
“Yeah, I do.” I looked up into the stars, and after a stretch of silence, I said, “I am lucky.”
Of course, I only saw that when I was with him.
Easton took advantage of my extended neck and lowered down to my lips. I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. I lifted to my toes and closed the distance. He wrapped one arm around my waist and slid the other to my cheek. I kissed him long and deep, my passion and fear both exploding into fireworks. In that moment, I felt more alive than ever before. And by the time my heels returned to the floor, I knew I was falling in love.
“Um,” I said, “you’re quite the actor.”
Easton shook his head. “You know.”
It was all he had to say. I nodded and buried my head into his chest. “I know,” I said.
We remained tight in the embrace for some time until Chloe yelled, “Time for dessert!”
I smiled. “I don’t want to leave. And I love dessert. What are you doing to me?” I asked.
I looked up to see his expression. It seemed that I wasn’t the only one fighting my feelings, and worry creased in my forehead.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, knowing damn well that my whole world was burning down.
Easton shook his head and smiled down at me. While I couldn’t detect a difference in his smile, I could feel it in my heart. Something was wrong. I felt it like a bird with clipped wings. Our love had a ceiling.
“Let’s get some of that pie before it’s gone.” Easton patted my back, and we made our way inside.
The dessert would have tasted better if I wasn’t swallowing my emotions. One bite at a time. It did nothing to help.
As the night came to an end, we said our goodbyes and left hand in hand. And when the door closed behind us, I was unsure whether to let go or not.
Easton drove me home, neither one of us speaking. I stared out the window at the passing headlights and allowed myself to be swallowed by my fear. Only this time, it wasn’t the cancer. This time, it was losing Easton.
When Easton pulled up to my house, neither one of us got out of the car. He set the car in park, and faint barks from Yeti sounded from the house.
I unbuckled.
“You have to tell them,” Easton said.
“Tell them what? That we’re not together?” I asked.
“No, never mind that. You have to tell them about your condition.”
“Why!”
“Because!” He ran his hand through his hair in distress. “You’ll regret it if you don’t!”
“Huh, no . . . actually, I’ll be dead, and the last time I checked, dead people don’t muse over their past mistakes. And if there is such a thing as heaven, do you really think they’ll allow regret through those pearly gate
s?!” The roller coaster continued.
Easton fumed. Quick breaths expelled from his nostrils like a fire breathing dragon. We were feeding off each other as the frustration of an impossible situation grew larger. But the truth was, he didn’t know any better than I did about what happens after we die. He had no right telling me how I would feel. And judgment was the last thing I needed on a very long list of unmet needs. My heart pounded, and the tears burned my eyes. I should have waited for him to answer, but I continued to tear into him instead.
“You know, Easton, whatever we’ve got going between us, maybe it’s better if it just ends now,” I said. I got out of the car and slammed my door.
Easton jumped out after me but came to a stop at his taillights.
“End? Beck, come on.” Easton’s voice softened.
“No! Seriously. What the fuck is the point in all this? In you and me? We get close, and then it just makes everything that much harder? Why are we doing this to ourselves? It’s a slow burn of torture, and while I might not live with the regret, you will! Is that what you want?” My tone sharp and forthcoming.
Easton took a step towards me. I took a step back.
“Beck. Don’t do this,” he said, holding out a hand.
My eyes dropped to the extended invitation to spend my last days in his arms. The cost? Shattering his heart in the wake of my departure.
“It’s what I want,” I said, sure of myself.
Our eyes lingered on each other for what seemed to be an eternity of pain and suffering. It was my hell on earth. Giving up the only man I’d ever loved. Setting him free in hopes that it would be in his best interest. I would have no way of knowing.
Easton closed the distance between us and brought his lips to my forehead. A warm soft kiss planted on my soul. And then he was gone. I didn’t watch him leave.
I was mistaken when I thought it couldn’t get any worse than the night that I scarred my arms. I crawled into bed, still half-dressed, and closed my eyes for the sweet escape of slumber. As it turns out, not feeling anything at all was worse than any pain I’d ever encountered. The roller coaster had stopped, and the numbness carried me away into a deep and loveless sleep.
Chapter 15
The numbness followed me like a shadow; only, it was there regardless of the light. I went to work and school but only to keep my mind off Easton.
When Dawson finally approached me in class, I was relieved to think about someone other than Easton. I couldn’t believe that Dawson was my typical type. I used to drool over his abs—any abs really. Now I found myself attracted to Easton’s body. The thick muscles of Dawson made me wonder if he would sink in a body of water, and I wondered where the days had gone when he danced around my head shirtless. There were no more dreams of soap suds and dripping sponges.
Easton ruined it all for me. I would never look at another male specimen the same. I only wanted Easton and his beautiful soul.
I skipped a few of my classes to sit in my truck and write one more goodbye letter. This time it was to Easton. Everything poured out with ease—all of my thoughts but none of the emotion. And I had a lot of thoughts. It all made sense to me. Easton was better off without me. My mind told me so. I detailed it in my letter. It was a simple note, only a one-pager. In the last paragraph, I professed that I loved him and that my only regret was not telling him in person. I signed the letter with a heart and prayed to God that heaven didn’t allow regrets.
It’d been six days since I broke it off with Easton, and he called only once. I cleared his call when he did, and he never left a message. I would be lying if I said I never thought about calling him back. I did . . . all the time. But it was my love for him that kept me away. And it was my numbness that allowed me to survive the heartache.
On the seventh day, I decided to take a drive and wound up sitting in the parking lot of the dive bar Easton had taken me to. The bum was gone, and so was his dog, but the trash he left behind still remained. I parked and watched as a trickle of customers walked inside and never came out. It was only 3:30 p.m., but I assumed that addiction knew no time. Somehow, being here at the bar made me feel a little closer to Easton, and I wanted to savor it. My next stop would be the bridge, and I imagined that I would feel his presence even stronger there.
When I decided to continue on with my pathetic road trip, an older gentleman walked out of the bar on his cell phone. I cracked my window to listen to his conversation. Because I was a small-town girl from Clover, and that’s what we do best.
“What? I can’t hear you! Wait . . . that’s better! Go on,” the man said. He was slender—all but his belly, and I was pretty sure that he might be pregnant.
“No! No! Bring it by the bar. I’ll be here ‘til closing,” he said.
Watching a drug deal wasn’t going to bring me any closer to Easton, so I started my ignition.
It was through the rumble of my old truck that I heard him say, “Don’t you Clyde me, you chicken shit!”
Clyde?
I stepped on my brake. My eyes shot around, suddenly aware of my surroundings. Clyde was Easton’s grandfather! My heart picked up speed. What was I to do?
Clyde hung up the phone and grumbled a string of profanities. I feared he would walk into the bar and be lost forever.
I pulled out wide and stopped next to Clyde as he lit a cigarette. My window dropped slowly, causing him to step off the curb and approach my car.
I panicked.
“Do you know how to get to Clover from here?” My forehead drenched with worry.
“Oh, yeah.” Clyde rested his forearm on my window seal and waved about his cigarette with the other hand. “Go south on Falcon—”
“Are you Clyde?” I blurted out.
The man looked at me with trepidation.
“Who’s askin’?”
“Um, I’m a friend of Easton Green’s, and—”
“Ohhh! Well, why didn’t you say so!? How’s that fella doin’?” he asked with a bright face.
“Good, yeah, he’s good. Um, he misses you. He brought me here a little over a week ago looking for you,” I said.
“Is that right!?” Clyde looked a little confused.
“Yeah, he said he hadn’t seen you in a while and was worried.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m back now. Tell him to come by so I can whoop his ass in poker, would ya?” Clyde chuckled.
I knew I would no longer be talking to Easton to pass on the message.
“Yeah, I can do that. Um, maybe you should call him or something to let him know you’re doing OK?” I interjected myself in a place I knew I had no business being. But I felt terrible for Easton. All he wanted was a relationship with his grandpa, and he had to gamble to get it.
“Call him? Well, shit!” Clyde took a long drag off of his cigarette and blew the smoke just outside my window. “I don’t have that kid’s number or nothin’,” he said.
I frowned. “You don’t have your grandson's phone number?” I asked him and immediately regretted my judgment.
“Grandson!?” Clyde scowled. An uncomfortable moment passed as my mind raced to fix what I had done.
“Is that kid in some kind of trouble?” Clyde asked. His face creased with the deep grooves of age.
“No! No, sorry, I think I was mistaken. Have a nice day.” I placed my truck in drive, and Clyde took a step back, perplexed.
I pulled away quicker than I wanted to, and my tires made a small screeching noise that made me look even more suspect.
What the heck was that!? Easton lied to me? About his family, nonetheless. I traced back through my memory. There was no mention of his family at all except for what he told me about his grandpa. Why was he hiding from me? He was so comfortable on my sofa in the presence of my dad that it made it hard to believe he wasn’t brought up in a loving home himself. I couldn’t think of another reason for lying, though—other than being ashamed about where he came from.
I replayed every conversation we ever had. Most of it was
about me, my life, and my predicament. Never once did he tell me what he was afraid of. He never added to the bucket list. His job was broad and somewhat unfitting. I didn’t know what he liked to do, other than poker, and even that was soiled now. I didn’t know Easton Green at all. And yet I loved him all the same.
I parked my truck on the side of the road by the New River Bridge. I got out and walked to the very spot his feet had stood on the railing, and I rested my forearms there. The river below was fuller now due to the major storm we had that night. It was the angel’s tears that filled up the stream. I thought they were crying for me and my ill-willed fate. But as I looked out into the vast forest where the water met the sky, I realized something. They were crying for him.
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. My body was quiet, too damaged to feel the pain. I must have stood there for an hour. Maybe two. Not contemplating the end of my life but consumed with the mystery of his.
I didn’t know much about him, but I knew his soul. It left its prints all over mine. Even though I put up a good fight, I knew we were meant to find each other. Like magnets, our destiny intended to collide. What I couldn’t grasp was why. What lesson was I supposed to learn from falling for someone I couldn’t have? And just like that, I realized it.
It wasn’t about me, it never was. He needed me, probably more than I needed him. My life was next to over, but his wasn’t. I didn’t know my part yet, but I was sure I was meant to help move him along in some way or another.
I checked my watch. My shift at Fresh Grounds started in thirty minutes. I didn’t want to leave Lindsay hanging, and since Jacob was working our shift, I thought I better show my face.
I was pleased when I walked into the shop, and the place was empty. Both Jacob and Lindsay sat chatting instead of working. Sometimes the night shifts were the best. Others, we would be bombarded with book clubs and first dates.
“Hey guys,” I said, slipping my apron over my head.
The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 10