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 12

by Laura C. Reden


  “Come on Beck, that’s not fair,” Easton said.

  “What’s not?”

  He sighed in exasperation. No words followed.

  “You’re afraid that I won’t love you after you tell me. Do you know what I’m afraid of?” I asked.

  Easton looked at me, afraid of what I might say. I saw in his eyes that my fear was the chink in his armor.

  “I’m afraid that the one I love won't let me in. I’m afraid our relationship will be stunted, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it,” I said, not realizing how I felt until I said it.

  I understood all my anger from before. Blanketed under this simple statement. It was lack of control that I feared most. I couldn’t control my health, how Easton felt, or if he wanted to open up to me.

  Easton considered my words. His eyes squinted in the sun and his laugh lines deepened in the absence of humor.

  “Are you afraid of dying?” Easton asked before he looked over the river.

  “Of course, I am. Who wouldn’t be?” I said.

  “I was too. The first time I died.”

  Chapter 17

  I whipped my head to Easton and observed him carefully as he built the courage to continue. My mind raced from medical conditions to accidents, but nothing prepared me for what he said next.

  “I would like to say that practice makes perfect, but that’s not the case when it comes to death. Sure, it gets easier with time, as many things do, but perfect is an unachievable goal for the human race.”

  His words flowed like the melody of a sweet song, but he was singing in a different language—one I didn’t understand.

  I watched his face contort with the pain that only life on earth could offer. He momentarily took the break he needed before continuing down a slow path to honesty. I knew it was my time to listen, and I tried my damn hardest not to judge him for what he believed to be his truth.

  “I’m what’s called a Tethered Soul, Beck.” Easton’s gaze dropped down to the dirt before him. He looked as broken as the day I met him. “No matter how many times I die, my soul returns.”

  I sucked in a quick breath when he finally looked at me. His irises, electric blue, were flanked by bolts of red.

  “I’ve lived a dozen lives over the years. It never ends for me. I’m like a prisoner.” Easton broke our contact and looked back over the river. A single tear fell from his eye.

  I knew Easton had been hiding something, but I didn’t expect it to be this. I didn’t know how to react. I felt stupid for believing him, but I did. He was my proof, sitting right there in front of me. He was no normal man. He was an old soul, and now I knew why he remained so comfortable in his own skin.

  Easton continued. “In all my lives, I’ve never loved someone like you. You’re it for me. And when you pass on to another dimension in time . . . I’ll remain. A new place, a new family, but I will always . . . have the same broken heart, and the same damn tethered soul.”

  Easton ran his hands through his hair, and the tears flowed effortlessly. I mindlessly rubbed the knot in my throat as I struggled to put the pieces together. He would have to feed me more because right now, I only saw the tip of the iceberg. And there was a lot yet to uncover.

  “Say something! Anything!” Easton pled.

  I didn’t know what to say. I was stunned, unable to form complete thoughts, let alone a comprehensible sentence.

  “I love you.”

  It was the one thing I knew to be true. My whole life was upside down. I didn’t know right from wrong or up from down, but I knew that I loved Easton Green. No matter how many lives he lived. Or believed he had.

  I moved over to Easton and sat as close as I could, resting my head on his shoulder. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but I was there for him either way.

  “So, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get it all straight. You’ve lived . . . multiple lives?” It felt as dumb to say aloud as it did to hear it.

  Easton responded as if it were an everyday conversation about the weather. Only, this time, he was personally affected by the storm.

  “Twelve or thirteen, probably. I lost count.”

  “Thirteen!” I said, sitting up to look at his face. He looked away as if he were ashamed.

  I scrambled to my feet.

  “Don’t go!” Easton cried out.

  I took a deep breath, “I’m not! I’m um, I’m just trying to come to grips with what you’re telling me. That’s all.” I shook out my hands and began to pace.

  Easton stood and dusted the dirt off his pants.

  “Let’s walk,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I agreed. I needed something to do with my arms and legs. I needed moving parts and the passing scenery. I needed to understand.

  “I know, it’s a lot to take in.”

  I laughed out loud. I tried to stop for fear it was coming off as rude, but my nerves wouldn’t allow for it.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I do! I just . . . I’m having a hard time understanding,” I said as I interlocked my hands in weird and uncomfortable formations.

  “OK! I can help with that!” Easton was excited about the development of my reaction. It was something he could work with, and as I told him before, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You have memories of when you were a kid, right?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Like two years old, three years old?”

  “Sure . . .”

  “OK, I do too! But I have them with different families, all around the world.”

  “What!?” I stopped walking.

  He was explaining it well, but my heart was still picking up speed.

  “It’s true. I’m always me. My soul, my memory, my personality. Always. But my situation is different. My adopted parents, siblings, the country, the lifestyle: that changes every time. I’ve grown to adapt. I’ve learned to read people—understand them. I know what makes this world turn and understand motive more than anyone you will ever meet. I’ve learned it all from experience.” Easton ran his hand through his hair and gave me a hopeful expression.

  “So . . . I’m sorry! I don’t know what to ask! I’m so confused! Who are you now? Who were you then? Are you even a construction sales rep—”

  “I am Easton Green. And I love you, more than any soul I’ve ever met! If you let me love you, I will show you the greatest love of a lifetime. Everly, please don’t give up on me!” Easton stilled and squeezed my hand tightly.

  My heart melted, and my body slacked.

  “I don’t fully understand Easton, but I wasn’t lying when I said there was nothing you could say to change my mind. And if this is your reality, I want to know about it. Count me in. Always.”

  I hugged him, pressing my ear up to his beating heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. I held on until I felt I was beginning to digest the gravity of what Easton had told me.

  “So, you are or aren’t a construction sales rep?” I joked.

  Easton smiled but wasn’t ready to laugh.

  “You got me! I’m not a sales rep.”

  “I knew it! I knew it!” I shouted and pulled away to push his chest playfully.

  This time he laughed at my excitement. “How did you know?”

  “Your hands are too soft!”

  Easton examined his hands, “What? Are you saying I have girly hands?”

  I laughed off the tension, and we continued to poke fun of each other. Our walk back to the car consisted of me trying to pick out which morsels of information he fed me were fact and which were fiction.

  So far, it’d been my favorite game yet. It was better than any game I obsessed over as a child. I learned that he didn’t have a job; he never needed one with his investment knowledge and maturity to invest young. Though that never stopped him from getting a job he wanted. I learned that he did have a family, albeit adopted. He cared for them but said that only a few select people left an impression on him and that sometimes it was easier not to get attached. I learned
that his last life was stationed in sunny California, where he spent his days surfing and being a beach bum. It was a real shame that he couldn’t bring his tan with him.

  When we got back into his car, I was pleased to see Easton take out the Hunter’s to-go menu from his glovebox. He crossed off camping before folding it back up into a neat square again.

  Chapter 18

  Pearl buttons lined the sheer opening of Chloe’s back. It was a lot of skin to show, but she was comfortable with that, and I would rather see her back than her chest. Unfortunately, I saw that too. Her cleavage popped out of the sweetheart line dress as she continued to pull on it. The gown trailed to the floor and pooled beyond her feet. It was a beautiful dress. I nodded in agreement with my mom and Chloe’s mother and grandmother.

  It was sweet that she invited me, and I felt myself opening up to the possibility that she might not be as bad as I originally thought. We all had deep dark secrets, after all; what if hers was that she was secretly awesome? Far-fetched, but possible.

  Chloe clapped, and both our mothers mimicked her enthusiasm with the same applause. Her grandmother smiled a toothless grin from her wheelchair.

  “OK, but I still think it’s a toss-up between this one and number two!” Chloe announced.

  “Pumpkin, this is the one!” her mother said.

  “Really?” Chloe said in a tone that could call a wolf pack home.

  Chloe’s mom nodded her head, and the tears began to fall. It was an emotional moment for them. Chloe trotted to her mom in her heels that were too high and too big, and they embraced, both crying and speaking in dolphin.

  It was hard for me to be excited for her when I knew I would never have a wedding of my own. I wasn’t even sure I would make it to their wedding. I felt my secret growing larger by the day. It was like a black cloud that followed me everywhere I went. Only I knew the severity of the storm ahead.

  “That’s going to be you one day,” Mom whispered in my ear. I frowned—nothing like rubbing salt in the wounds.

  “OK, enough of that! Everly, try on your bridesmaid dress?” Chloe asked.

  “Huh?”

  I was horrified. The last thing I wanted to do was put on a purple satin gown and show off how ridiculous I looked to a group of people. But apparently, Chloe didn’t have close friends—it was a major red flag—so, when she asked me to be her maid of honor, I had to comply. It was probably my best acting yet.

  A saleswoman with beady eyes ushered me to a dressing room where the purple dress hung waiting for me. I couldn’t tell if it was her tiny eyes or that she was judging me for my lack of excitement and loyalty to the bride. I closed the door and sighed, giving myself a small moment of pity before making a fool of myself.

  After dressing, I checked myself out from every angle I could. The tri-fold mirrors made it easy, and every angle I saw I hated. I never found myself to be girly. Dresses looked awkward on me at best. My knees were too knobby, my hips too straight. I looked like a thirteen-year-old boy in a nightgown. And what’s worse? I had to stand on a miniature stage and have four women judge me on it. I gave the mirror one last distraught look before I met my fate.

  “It’s a pretty dress, but I don’t know if I can do it justice. My hips just—”

  “I love it!” Chloe squealed, sealing the deal.

  “I do, too!” I lied.

  I was pretty sure only the grandma caught on. Well, her and Miss Judgmental Eyes. My cheeks turned red under the scrutiny, and my shoulders slumped in defeat while the tailor pulled, pinched, and pinned my dress.

  “Honey, you look like you’re losing weight!” my mom said.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “What’s your secret?” Chloe asked, and the room lightened up. “I’ve been mowing down celery like it’s going out of style! But I’m only two pounds away from my wedding shred weight! I think I can do it!” Chloe checked herself out in the mirror.

  I was relieved when I was dressed in my clothes again. Jeans and a hooded sweatshirt: nothing was more comfortable than that combination. I prayed I wouldn’t have to wear the purple dress for an entire evening. The thought of standing in front of all the guests wearing nothing but a thin satin draping freaked me out—enough to wonder if I could call out sick and leave Chloe at the altar with no backup. I wouldn’t do it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tempting.

  The five of us went to lunch after the fitting. It was a cute café, wrought iron tables lined the sidewalk, and I was able to people watch instead of engaging in conversation. Each person that passed, I wondered if they were a Tethered Soul like Easton, and I imagined what kinds of lives they had lived in the past.

  “How are things going with your boyfriend, Everly?” Chloe asked.

  I jumped when I heard my name, snapping back to reality. Boyfriend? I suppose it was true. Easton was my boyfriend now. I liked the way it sounded.

  “It’s good!”

  “Ohhh, look at that! She’s getting embarrassed!” my mom cooed.

  Drawing attention to it only made it worse. If I was pink before, I was red now.

  “Mom!” I tried, but my attempt failed.

  “I’ve never seen her this smitten by a boy before! Not even Evan Styles! The boy she pined after for two years and they went to homecoming together! I thought she had it bad then, but now? Wooo . . .” Mom fanned her face, and I rolled my eyes.

  “Evan was just a fling, Mom.” I looked to the other women. “It was nothing. Don’t listen to her.”

  “Do you love him?”

  It was a bold question coming from Chloe. I couldn’t believe that she would pry like that in front of our mothers and her grandma. But before I could think of something clever to answer, all the women, including the grandma, made all sorts of high pitch squeals. I cursed my God-given face for deceiving me in the way that it did.

  “Ohhh, I remember my first love . . .” Chloe’s grandmother said.

  “Yeah, Grams married my grandpa super young. They were high school sweethearts!” Chloe announced.

  “Aw, that’s so sweet!” My mom placed a hand over her heart.

  “Just because that geezer was my last love doesn’t mean he was my first!” Chloe’s grandma spit through her missing teeth.

  It was the best thing I’d heard all day. I loved a senior with an attitude. I sat up straight in my chair, eager to listen to her story. After the waiter took our menus, she began.

  “Two boys were fighting over me my first year in high school. Frank and Harold.”

  “Frank is my grandpa,” Chloe added.

  I loved it already.

  “Frank was handsome, but nobody held a candle to Harold. He was a bad boy, he lived on the wrong side of the tracks, and I loved him more than anything. We used to sneak around so my parents wouldn’t find out.”

  “Grandma!” Chloe said.

  “My parents were friends with Frank’s parents. They were a good family. Hard-working. I liked Frank well enough, but he was no Harold. When my parents found out I was fooling around with that boy, they forbade me to see him.”

  “What did you do?” I muttered.

  “Oh, I had to listen to them. They’d whip my butt with a belt if I didn’t. Lash my tush until it bled! You can’t do that these days. They’d think you’re a bad parent. Abusive, they’d say.”

  I chuckled and found myself wondering how old Easton’s views dated back. I briefly pondered if he valued waiting until marriage before having sex. I winced, remembering when he turned me down in the tent. I was thankful when Chloe’s grandma continued with her lisp-ridden story of forbidden love.

  “After a while of Frank trying to get to know me, I caved. There’s only so much will power a young girl has, and I was bored. I started to go out with him to help me get over Harold. And eventually, I did.”

  “But Grams, you love Grandpa, don’t you?” Chloe asked.

  “Oh yeah, I love the crusty geezer. It took years for it to grow through. Some love is meant to
be. Some love . . . well, you can make it work.”

  Chloe and her mother were visibly disturbed by her confession. Although from Chloe’s mother’s expression, I imagined she’d heard the story before. I was sure I was the only one who thoroughly enjoyed the grandmother’s confession. It struck true for me too. And I took pleasure in the idea that I had chosen my Harold.

  The five of us continued our lunch. My panini was delicious, but my appetite only allowed for a small portion. I took the leftovers home with me in a box. It would make for a good dinner. All and all, the day wasn’t too bad. I began to look at Chloe as a Frank. Maybe it was a love that wasn’t instant or true, but it had the potential to work regardless. I hoped for my brother’s sake that their love was a hidden Harold.

  I would have met Easton at Fresh Grounds, but I was too embarrassed to show my face. I told him to meet me in the parking lot across the street instead.

  I called Lindsay and told her all about the romantic night camping Easton had put together for me. I left out the part where he may or may not be a mad man. The jury was out, but I loved him nonetheless. It sure did make for some interesting conversation, and I was thankful to have a new focus. I promised Lindsay I would still come into the coffee shop, but she had to tell me who would be on the schedule first. I didn’t need the wrath of Jacob.

  When Easton jumped in my truck, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “What’s the secret mission?” he asked.

  I had something that I needed to do. Due diligence, if you will. But I was slightly ashamed of myself for it. That’s why I needed backup.

  “Do you remember that girl we saw at Hunters?” I asked.

  “No. I don’t remember a girl. However, I do remember you making a young man feel as small as a boy when you pointed out that his shirt was missing buttons. Was the girl before that, or after that?”

  I shot Easton a look. He held up his palms, “Joking! I was joking!” he said, before mumbling under his breath, “True story though . . .”

 

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