Page 32 of When I'm Gone

That makes my chest hurt. It’s not even like they were neutral until their kid came out, he never even had to worry if they would accept him or not because they were so open about being supportive of the whole community.

Is it possible to be incredibly glad that he had that kind of unconditional love, and bitter for myself? If I could talk around the lump in my throat, I’d ask what it was like to nothear the word faggot hissed every time his family saw two boys look at each other wrong.

Good old Daddy Dearest never missed the chance.

An older woman in a flowing floral patterned maxi skirt and twin amber braids that easily reaches the bottom of her ribcage comes rushing out the door and down the seven steps separating her from her child. The whole weekend will probably be like this, all of these people through the roof to see Chase and politely tolerating my presence.

This time, I can’t watch.

Soft, feminine hands envelope mine, making my gaze snap up. She’s beaming at me, and I have no fucking clue how to process it. “We are so glad you’re here, honey. You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for you. Come with me, I want you to meet the rest of the family. I could barely convince them not to rush you on the sidewalk.”

Chase’s eyes are soft and gooey but his tone has a hard edge. “Hi, Mom. Forget about me?”

She gives him a teasing wink. “My darling boy, I have never forgotten your existence once since you were making me sick as a dog every day I was pregnant with you. Easton is our guest and your brothers are about to go crazy waiting on him. I promise to pay you as much attention as you can stand once we make it in the door, my love.”

He laughs, deep in his belly. “You’re a proper nuisance, Mother. You haven’t even had the chance for introductions yet.”

Her mossy green eyes widen comically. “Ohmygoodness, Easton. Please forgive my rudeness, it’s just that I feel I know you already. I forget that it doesn't go both ways. I’m Margeaux.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” I rasp. My manners are still intact amidst my shock, so that’s a point in my favor.

She wags her finger at me. “It took me years to breakyour brother of that, no one here is old enough to be a ma’am. Margeaux, Mom, or even hey you, works. Just not that.” She shudders to enhance her point.

I’m stuck on the whole mom aspect. Does Brady call her that? What does our mom think? Has he introduced our bigot parents to these seemingly wonderful people?

Also, I could have a mom again?

No. It would be dumb for me to get attached. As soon as Chase realizes how broken I am, he’ll be rid of me and I’ll never see them again, forcing me to grieve the loss of yet another family. I couldn’t do it.

Margeaux tugs me along all the way through a little entryway, Chase close behind, carrying our meager belongings like the gentleman that he is. As promised, a mob of meerkats is just inside the living room off to the right, my new friend included. They’re visibly restraining themselves, which I equal parts appreciate and don’t understand. Logan is there with Sage, along with both of Chase’s brothers. They give me bright, eager smiles, and like she can read their minds, Margeaux gives them a stern, “Behave, boys.”

Chase trails his fingers across the back of neck as he brushes past me. After he’s given each of them a hug and swings Sage back up into his arms, he looks at me. “Easton, this is Parker.” He nods towards one with an impish grin, curly brown hair cut into a stylish fade and emerald eyes. “And this is Emerson.” All three of them have similar builds, broad and muscles that are drool-worthy if the thin shirts stretched over their chests are any indication, but the only real distinction between the younger two of the Adler boys is the hair color. One is a deep chestnut, the other inky black like Chase. Who made all these people ridiculously beautiful? Jesus Christ.

Neither of them are as scorchingly hot as Chase, though. No one else can compare.

“Hi,” I say meekly.

I get twohey, man’sin return, though I can tell they’re still trying not to rush me like half-trained puppies.

Chase looks around. “Where’s Dad?”

Parker answers, “Finishing up on the grill. ‘Bout time you guys got here because we’re fucking starved.”

My feet carry me forward while my mind is stuck in a haze when Chase holds out a hand for me to take. His thumb rubs across the back of my knuckles, effectively grounding me. Sage is talking his ear off about something that I’m not aware enough to absorb, I’m too busy trying to figure out what these people’s deal is. Why do they want me here? I never talked about Chase’s family with him until earlier in the car. I couldn’t tell you a single person’s name besides him. I was living on the east coast for four years without so much as a text from him or my own brother, and suddenly, I’m in Chicago and everyone around me is acting like it’s a family reunion I lost the invitation to.

We go through the dining room and kitchen out to the back deck, where the streetlights are illuminating the yard and mouth-watering scents of burgers fill the air. Chase’s dad is bumping two-thousand’s rap from before I was born from a speaker balanced on the railing and taking patties off the grill and humming to himself.

“Poppy!” Sage squeals, jumping down from her uncle’s hold and taking off again. Damn, this kid is determined to hurt herself. Chase reacts quickly but his dad is faster and secures her again.

She grins sheepishly, well aware that she got a bit ahead of herself, making my body tense expecting harsh words that never come.

Instead, he ruffles her hair, tells her to be careful, and turns his attention to us. “There’s my boy, you made it.”

“Duh. How are you feeling, old man?”

He glares at his son. “Better watch who you’re calling old, kid. I keep telling everyone I am fine. I can’t help that no one listens to me.”

Chase chuckles. “Whatever you say. I’m glad you’re all right.” He looks over at me, pale eyes full of nothing but encouragement. “Dad, you know Easton.”

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