Page 36 of When I'm Gone

Easton has me all wrong if he thinks I’m letting him disappear into the night again. No sir, we’ve tried that before and we’re not doing it again. Damn sure not without a phone and a plan to survive. Or at all, but I’ve got to earn it first.

Determined to find my Chaos, I shove to my feet and freeze halfway standing. His long, lithe body is folded tight in the top corner of the bed with his back pressed to the corner of the wall. There’s not even a moment to take his appearance in, once I lay eyes on him, a whimper passes over his abused lips, and I’m on him.

He comes so easily, like he was waiting for me for hours but scared to wake me up. He falls forward, practically taking flight, leaving me to scramble to catch him. One hand wraps around his bicep to help steady him and the other goes to his sweat-soaked back to pull him to me. My poor, sweet Chaos is drenched from the crown of his head, but it doesn’t slow me down.

“Oh, baby. What is it?” I ask as I get him situated against my chest. I’m not exactly expecting words out of him. He’s shaking like a leaf, and the second he connects to me, sobs start tearing from his throat.

I’m the worst kind of idiot. I knew he was having a hard time last night. I was worried about him starting to feel like his wings were being clipped. That, in his mind, one night spent cuddling up gave me delusions about being entitled to sharing every night with him, and he’d start to feel trapped. I should have been more concerned with the demons in his head.

My sweet boy is fighting more battles in the dead of night than he’s ever dared to voice, I’m just trying to show him he doesn’t have to face it alone.

My grip on him doesn’t loosen until his sobs start fadinginto little gasping breaths as he tries to get his bearings straight again. I’d bet my annual salary that he has barely closed his eyes long enough to blink since I went to bed. There’s no way I can keep letting him down like this. I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can solve these ups and downs for him, but he can’t keep bottoming out alone because of my own issues.

Easton finally sits up, wet tear-stained cheeks, dark red and swollen eyes. He hiccups and drops his gaze to his lap. That won’t do. I hook my index finger under his chin and bring his head up. “Don’t do that, sweetheart.”

His nose scrunches as he hiccups again. “Do what?” he asks, voice thread-bare.

“Hide from me.”

Fresh tears well in his eyes, glimmering like sunshine on water. “You’re going to get tired of me. I’m too much.”

Oh, fuck. Is that what he thinks? My stare hardens, making him shiver. “No. You’ll learn I don’t give up, Easton. You are not too much, not to me and not to anyone that deserves to be around you. It’s okay for you to need someone, and I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t up to the job.”

“You don’t know how bad it gets.” Shame is not a good look on him, he’s always beautiful, but I’ve got to get this through his head.

Easton didn’t know me before I had friends. He doesn’t know that I’ve known him since long before Brady ever mentioned his name. He may be having a hard time right now, but I know the core of him. He’s shy, kind-hearted, and so very giving. Time may have weathered him, but he’s still under there. I’m a patient man, there’s plenty of time for him to realize what he is to me.

Not that I have a name for it, but it’s damn sure more than he sees.

“Tell me, then.”

His eyebrows furrow as he starts nervously picking at his cuticles. I still the action with a hand on top of his and give him an encouraging look. He so obviously wants to give me pieces of the puzzle, not because he’s something to solve but because I genuinely don’t think he knows what to do with them, and he needs help understanding for himself.

I wait him out, my thumb stroking over the back of his knuckles. It takes him a few tries, some deep breaths. His mouth even opens a couple of times, only to find himself tongue-tied and closes it again. I can’t help but study him. His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, his lip looks like he’s chewed it to the point of bleeding a couple of times, but the determination is coming off him in waves.

Deja-vu washes over me. The set in his jaw is so achingly familiar, the same as four years ago when he came out for the first time. This is probably the first time he’s ever talked about this too.

Easton clears his throat and tries one last time. “It’s like I get trapped in my head and can’t get out. If I get reminded of something, it can start playing over and over again like a movie, except it feels like I’m there, living it again. Sometimes, I can feel it coming, almost like watching a weather forecast and seeing a storm coming in. Other times, it just happens.” He’s imploring me to understand him, as if I’m going to be warded off from being around him. Leave it to Easton Callaghan to be worried about me when he’s talking about his own suffering. “There’s days where no one is around, and I just don’t get out of bed. It’s like I can’t, like my bones are made of cement and too heavy for me to lift. Something is really wrong with me, Chase.”

A cry for help if I’ve ever seen one. Somehow, I doubt his parents ever really talked about mental health. Brady took some psych classes and seemed blown away by them. I would have thought Easton would have learned at least a little aboutit in the last four years, but he seems just as sheltered as he ever was. As much as I want to ask him if he’s ever talked to a doctor about depression or PTSD, freaking him out would be a big step backwards.

I tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, making him melt into my hand slightly. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working, sweetheart. If you want help to start dealing with that stuff, I’ll figure it out with you. But you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if you want me to run for the hills.”

He tries to laugh, but it’s more of a sigh. “Like what?”

I consider it for a second. “Hmm. Probably set an orphanage on fire or something along those lines.”

“That gives me a lot of wiggle room.”

He’s beginning to settle down; looks less like the walls are caving in on him, and it’s an incredible sight. Poor thing is still worn out, but he’s so much less panicked. Maybe talking about it helped get some of the weight off his chest. “Don’t hang yourself with all that rope,” I tease.

“Tempting.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a brat. So what do you feel up to this morning? You want to try and sleep for a bit?”

He pales a bit and shakes his head. “There’s no way I could, even with you.”

“Fair. Coffee then?”

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