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

by Laura C. Reden

  I bit my bottom lip and watched Easton capture the attention of the table.

  “He started to check the windows! He said that his friend always left one open. And there it was, a window in the back of the house, unlocked. We took turns crawling through the window. We turn on the lights, start making quesadillas. Not long after that, the cops burst into that house as well! One went out the window, one got caught, two fled through the slider door, and Everly and I . . . we hid in the pantry!”

  I burst into laughter. The others were on the edge of their seat. I watched Easton wrap up an epic story.

  “Nine hours! Nine hours, was how long we had to hide until the homeowners left the house, and we could sneak out. It was the best damn nine hours of my life! And we’ve been together ever since.”

  The girls swooned, myself included. Even Benjamin thought it was an impressive love story.

  “I thought it was his friend's house!” Audrey choked out.

  Easton shook his head, “In his drunken state, he miscalculated by two doors down! Turns out it was an old retired English professor’s house. Mr. Rottermen.”

  Audrey wailed, and I gave Easton a kiss on the cheek. And for a split second, I forgot that it was merely make-believe.

  The bride and groom were called to the dance floor, and we watched as they shared their first dance. Carter was uncomfortable, no doubt, but he hid it well. The moment Chloe’s father stepped in to have the father-daughter dance is the moment I felt my throat close. My eyes no longer able to watch; I dismissed myself to use the restroom. All the while, I thought about how I would never have the chance to dance with my pops at my wedding.

  I stood in the bathroom much longer than necessary. If I were hiding from my emotions, it was a poor hiding place. I ran my hands under the cold water until they felt like ice. Then I placed them on my cheeks and the back of my neck. I was tired already, but I had a little while longer to last.

  By the time I resurfaced, the heartfelt scene had dissipated, and the party had started. Drinks were flowing, and the dance floor was on fire. I was thankful that it would be all downhill from here. There was still the cake to cut, but I didn’t see how that could make me sad. Maybe I would be sad if my appetite hadn’t yet returned, but that was one thing that I was confident I could handle.

  I took my seat next to Easton. Our chairs were now turned to watch the dance floor. I loved to watch people dance. Some didn’t care, some were gifted, others nervous and awkward. My favorite was when there was a combination of the ones who didn’t care and the ones who were incredibly inept. They made for the best entertainment. I’d once seen a guy run and dive onto the varnished dance flooring, sliding like a penguin on his belly. He took out three people ending in a small dog pile in the middle of the crowd.

  I was so content I didn’t notice Nick when he approached us.

  “Dance with me!” He held his hand out in front of me, vodka permeated the air.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t.” I shook my head and looked at Easton. Not for permission, but for rescuing. He smiled, not an ounce of jealousy in his eyes. If anything, maybe there was some sympathy. Not for me but Nick. Easton knew he would never have a chance.

  I rolled my eyes, now feeling sorry for the sucker myself. I placed my hand in Nick’s as I glared at Easton. He laughed and waved me farewell. The dance Nick and I shared was that of me taking a step back and him following. Him wrapping his hand around my waist, and me twisting out of it. It didn’t take long for Easton to see that it was no longer fun and games. He stood to attention and made his way over after reading my several glaring attempts to call for help. Nick was harmless, but I didn’t want someone’s paws all over me. Especially not in this dress. Just before Easton approached us, the song turned to a slow romantic number. Nick caressed my back one last time before Easton tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Mind if I cut in? This is our song,” Easton lied.

  He didn’t wait for Nick’s sloppy rebuttal. In one swift motion, I was secured in Easton’s arms where I belonged.

  I laid my head on his chest and sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and then let it all fall out.

  “Honestly? It’s been a ride. I keep thinking about how I’ll never have these memories of my own. It’s hard to watch my parents.” I looked up at Easton. “There’s just so much I want to do, and there’s not enough time.” I searched the depth of his blue eyes, but it was dark, and I couldn’t find my way into them.

  Easton stopped our slow momentum.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  My heart skipped a beat. Did I hear him correctly? I scanned his eyes more frantically now.

  “Marry me!” he said again.

  Chapter 24

  Marry you?” I repeated.

  It took me a long while to process his request. I’d all but forgotten we were in the middle of a dancefloor. Time stood still.

  “Why would you want to do that to yourself? I mean, it’s one thing to have love and loss, but it’s another to be a widower your whole life. Surely you don’t want that title. And for what? I’ll love you just the same . . .”

  “I want to marry you! I’m not going to be a widower . . .”

  Easton grabbed my elbow and led me to a more private place to continue our conversation without others overhearing. There, out in the hall, he said it. The thing I never considered. The thing that made me hate and love all the same.

  “I’m not going to let you die alone!” Easton’s forehead lined with pain.

  His words like a dagger to my chest. I wouldn’t have the man I love die on my behalf. Even if he would resurrect sometime later or believe that he would.

  “No! Are you crazy!? You can’t do that!” I hissed. Eyes darting down the length of the hall. Still, no one within earshot.

  “Everly, I don’t think you understand! I’ve died a handful of times over, and I’ll be damned if I let you do it alone!”

  My skin began to heat. It’s all I remember until I woke in Easton’s lap with a small crowd hovering over me. Regrettably, one of them was a paramedic.

  “What’s happening?” I asked Easton in a storm of confusion and faintness.

  “Shhh. Everything’s OK. You’ve just been out for a little while,” Easton said.

  I looked at the paramedic; it must have been longer than a little while. The questions began to fire, but I couldn’t answer any of them truthfully. None could be said in front of my mother, who was standing behind Easton.

  “We should take her in, run some tests,” the paramedic said to my mom.

  My protest went unheard. Neither Easton nor I had a say in the matter, and before I knew it, I was placed on a gurney and rolled out of the reception hall. I convinced my mom that Carter would never forgive her if she left his wedding early and that Easton was more than capable of going with me to the hospital.

  My mom watched me from the curb as they closed the ambulance doors. I was utterly mortified by my grand exit. And I’d thought the purple dress was bad.

  “Is it Tim?” I asked the paramedic as I tried to focus my eyes on his name tag.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “My boyfriend asked me to marry him, so I passed out,” I mumbled.

  Maybe it was the needle in my arm, or maybe it was Tim’s kind face, but truth poured out of me now that my mom was out of sight.

  Tim chuckled. “Is that the boy who’s following us in that beamer?”

  “Yes.”

  “You did all that to get out of saying, no?” Tim asked.

  “No! I wanted to say yes . . . but here’s the kicker: I have cancer.” I rubbed my throat as I said it. “Have you heard of anaplastic thyroid cancer?” I asked.

  Tim’s face contorted with sympathy. He’d heard of it. Less than one percent of thyroid cancer mutates into such a demon.

  “It’s spread, and I don’t have long.”

  “Why didn’t yo
u tell me this back at the wedding, dear?” Tim asked.

  “I haven’t told my parents,” I admitted. It would be the most expensive therapy session I’d ever receive.

  Tim sighed and ran his eyes through the cab before returning to me. “And what about the boy?”

  “He’s the only one that knows. I told him the night we met.”

  I thought back to it, surprised by my behavior. It was then when I realized I never actually told him. I wouldn’t have. Not even in a fury of panic.

  “Are you afraid to marry the boy because of what it will do to him when you're gone?” Tim asked as he checked my vitals.

  “Something like that,” I mused.

  “Well, dear, I don’t have an answer for you. But if the boy asked, and he knows, I’m guessing he’s already made his decision.” Tim had no idea how profound his simple comment was.

  He was right. Easton had already made his decision. He was going when I was. Regardless if we’d end up in the same place or not. It wouldn’t stop him from trying. I couldn’t control Easton’s life any more than I could control mine.

  I ran through the gauntlet of tests, and Easton waited patiently. And when the doctor came in to tell me my latest updates, he was there by my side. The cancer was in my thyroid, trachea, lymph nodes, and now my liver. It would soon spread to my lungs and bones. It wasn’t news to me, but hearing it out loud was a different kind of pain. The kind that made your face wince and your body squirm. The hours ticked by, and the sky had begun to lighten by the time I was discharged. I would later tell my mom it was dehydration.

  That was, until I found the right moment for the truth that would shatter her heart. Was there ever a fitting moment for such a thing? The burden was now too heavy to carry on my own. I needed to admit it to myself and everyone I loved that I needed help. I could see now from this event that it was unfair of me to place such a heavy burden on Easton alone.

  “Easton?” I asked, looking out his car window.

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t believe I ever told you I had cancer.” I turned my attention to his face. “How did you know?” I studied him. He glanced up into his rearview mirror, then to me.

  “I know things. I can’t explain it.”

  “Try.” I was short.

  “The same way I can tell if another is a Tethered Soul, I feel it. Their spirit’s age, fine like wine. Perfected as much as a flawed being can be. I feel their pain—too grand for one life alone.”

  Easton glanced over to see how I was taking the news, then he studied the road ahead of him. “It’s the same as when I met you. I knew when you pulled me off of the bridge . . . the very instant when I looked into your eyes on the sidewalk. Your heart was meant for me. A perfect soulmate in an imperfect world. But I felt your time was limited, like a battery draining low. I would live forever, and you would perish shortly thereafter meeting you. The only thing worse was the thought of never knowing you at all.”

  Easton spoke quietly, his words laced with the heartache only he could ever know.

  “Yes,” I whispered. The word spilled out onto my breath.

  Easton’s brows furrowed as his eyes shifted between me and the road.

  “Yes,” I said. My voice raspy, but I meant it with all that I was.

  “I want to marry you! I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I don’t have much to give, but—”

  “Beck, don’t. Let me be the judge of that.” Easton reached over and squeezed my hand. His eyes were wet with love.

  Chapter 25

  It was just dehydration! . . . Yeah, they gave me an IV, and I went home.”

  I paced around my living room, watching my feet as they continued their shuffle. It was the moment I lifted my gaze and caught Easton’s expression that I knew I was doing more harm than good. I listened to my mom on the other line. Then, with a heavy heart, I asked.

  “Mom? Can I come by today?”

  The minutes began to tick as soon as I got off the phone. Ninety short minutes was all I had to prepare myself to tell my parents that they would be alive to bury their daughter. I grabbed at my stomach when it churned with nausea and sat down on the sofa. Still exhausted from the night spent in the hospital, the climb I had ahead of me seemed damn near impossible.

  Easton rubbed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. I looked up at him, suddenly upset that I had made this decision, here and now.

  “Don’t make me do this alone!”

  “Never. I’ll be right by your side,” he said.

  “Hi, honey! Come on in!” My mom kissed my cheek and pulled me inside. “Thanks for taking care of her, Easton!” Mom kissed his cheek, too.

  We stepped into the shadows of the house. My eyes took longer than usual to adjust. Dad was watching a game on TV and said hello with a wave from the couch. My first concern was getting him to turn the TV off. Sure, it was as simple as asking, but I’d never asked my parents to stop what they were doing and give me their full attention. I didn’t want to worry them. And yet, that’s what I had come here to do. I dispelled the thought with a shake of the head. It had to be said. I believed that now.

  “Can I get you two an iced tea? You have to stay hydrated!” Mom said. I wished it was that simple.

  “Yeah, that sounds great, Mom.”

  I moved to the sofa and joined my dad. He gave me a pat on the knee. The secret that I’d been holding in since early March was growing heavier. It came out by way of clammy palms and ringing ears. My legs began to tremble.

  “Well, you didn’t miss much last night. After you left, everything kind of just wound down. We threw rice at your brother and his wife. Oh! I get to say that now! His wife!” Mom said.

  Two ice teas were set in front of Easton and me. He took a polite sip, but I was too nervous to move.

  “I’m so glad you two are paying us some attention! I know you’re so busy with work and school—it’s like I never get to see you anymore!” Mom said. More bricks added to my already too heavy load.

  “I quit my job!” I blurted out. It was the first of many to come. Dad flinched but continued watching the game.

  “Oh, well . . . if you need help with the bills, I’m sure we could—”

  “I stopped going to school, too. So . . . maybe you should stop paying for my tuition.”

  That got my dad’s attention. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Nobody said anything. The tension boiled inside me like a pressure cooker. I rubbed my wet hands onto my jeans. I wanted to say it in a way that wouldn’t hurt, but I feared it would tumble out just like my other confessions and catch fire.

  My mom cleared her throat, unable to say anything nice. She held it in and waited for my dad to speak.

  “You kids these days think that a college education isn’t worth squat, but—”

  “There’s more, Dad. Dad?” He continued to talk over me. Ramblings of the value I couldn’t see.

  “Dad!” I yelled.

  The mood shifted. What once was disappointment was now shock. Soon, it would be devastation. I should have rehearsed it. Came up with the perfect way to tell them. But I didn’t, and they were going to have to live with my mistake.

  “I . . . didn’t pass out because I was dehydrated. I passed out because I’m fighting . . . um, an illness. And my immune system is working really hard, but it can’t do it all,” I said.

  I refused to look at them, but I could feel the disarray pass through the thick air.

  “What? Like cancer?” Dad asked.

  “No! Don’t say that!” hissed my mom.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  Mom sucked in a sharp breath. I kept my eyes glued to the floor. A shower of shame rained down upon me. As if it were my doing, my choice.

  “Well, we’re going to fight it! I’m going to call Doctor Allen. He’ll know what to do!”

  Mom jumped to her feet. She walked herself in a couple of circles before making it to the phone. Fight or flight was a common reaction. Like my mom, t
he fight was my first response too. Until the doctor showed me the images. My chance to fight was fleeting.

  Arguing erupted overhead as Pops tried to change her course of action. Shots fired back and forth, fueled by fear. I sat silenced. My knuckles, white. When Easton reached his limit, he stood and began to speak of the facts. And just as he did, my parents shifted their focus to learning what they could instead of changing what they’d yet to understand.

  “Everly had papillary thyroid cancer. The symptoms were easy to overlook, and she was young. She had a biopsy done via fine-needle aspiration. That’s when a tiny needle goes into the nodule and collects cells. Unfortunately, the specific cells collected in this fine needle tip were not the cells that were mutated, but the surrounding cells from her thyroid. Her results were inconclusive. It’s a usual reading. More times than not, it means there’s no cancer.”

  Easton commanded the room much like he did when he told the make-believe story of how we met at my brother’s wedding. I assumed that he had gathered all of this information after he read my medical files in the hospital. Perhaps he’d spoken to my doctor. The air was so thick that I was sure I would suffocate right then and there, never making it my full term. My parents were frozen. It was the most I’d ever seen them focus on anything in my entire life. They absorbed every morsel of detail that Easton spilled, while I sat on the couch dripping with guilt, sweat, and tears.

  “On rare occasions—less than one percent—thyroid cancer will morph. The cells will mutate into a highly abnormal and aggressive form of cancer called anaplastic. The prognosis is poor. And in Everly’s case, it has already spread. I regret to inform you that she is not a candidate for chemotherapy and radiation. Her cancer is resistant to treatment.” Easton spoke with poise. His performance was captivating.