Page 55 of When I'm Gone

Don’t push. Don’t push.I find myself nodding. “Okay. You know you can talk to me, right?” It seems pointless to say. Sometimes, he gives me more than he does anyone else, and trusts me. Sometimes, I can tell he’s holding stuff back that’s trying to come to the surface. It’s not like I’m entitled to know everything, I know that. But it sucks to see him clam up when I’ve seen how much better he feels when he talks it out.

“I know.”

That’s all I can ask for. Call it needless worry, but I’m almost positive he’s got a downer coming his way. There’s been too much stress, and putting on a good front, and meeting new people. He’s been trying so hard just to make it through, but it’s draining him. It’s a fine line to balance, trying to see when he’s had too much while hoping he is aware enough of his limitations to tell me in case I get it wrong.

Maybe I’m hoping too much. It’s hard to fully understand where his head is at when it comes to his mental health. It was taboo in his childhood to discuss things like that. Bradytold me about it, said that their church believed it meant you weren’t praying hard enough if you were experiencing depression or other mental health struggles. So I know he could never talk to his parents about it, or being gay. Neither of which I can relate to at all.

I’ll be the first to admit, my family has never been perfect, but at least they didn’t expose us to stuff like that. We always knew we were loved no matter what, and mental health is often a topic of discussion. That, plus the stuff I learned in college, gives me a lot more language to use that he just doesn’t have. He probably needs a therapist, but how do you tell someone that without sounding like an asshole?

WWLD? Well, I have no fucking clue. And it’s not like I can ask because she’ll see through me in an instant with her oldest sister spyware goggles. So, I do the only thing I can think to do; take him at his word, and pretend I don’t notice that his fingers are swollen and bloody because he’s been tearing at the skin around his nails again.

CHAPTER 17

EASTON

Leave it to me to have to actively force myself to not disappear into my head surrounded by some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I want to be here. I want to be able to do this. Why is it so fucking hard for me when it comes easily to everyone else?

Because you’re nothing but a pretty, broken little doll…

Oh hell, not that voice. Please. Anything but that.

A shudder rolls down my spine as my throat dries out. Chase is too busy for me. He’s talking animatedly to his coworkers, with one hand picking at his remaining fries and the other is emphasizing his story. They’ve all tried so hard to include me, Chase especially, but I messed up. My focus got drawn away from them for too long and now I can’t seem to find my way back. I’m drifting further and further out to sea and there’s no one to pull me back in when Chase is occupied.

That’s such bullshit. Why am I so fucking helpless? He’s going to give up on me and he’d be well within his right to do so. I just showed up here and threw myself at his feet,begging for shelter and somehow that’s still not enough for me? I need him to care about me too?

Hewas right, I am ungrateful…

The music is too loud, pounding in my ears. It feels like everyone is screaming, and it’s surface of the sun hot in here all of a sudden. My leg starts bouncing under the table, itching to run away, but I’m fucking trapped. And the worst part is that beneath it all, I can hear him as clearly as if he was standing right in front of me. An endless loop of the highlight reel, each time he lost it on me—the cutting things he’d say, how he’d hurt me. I’m lost to it, paralyzed as the nightmares ravage me.

I’m drowning.

When something cold is forced into my mouth, I’m too shocked to scream. In the dim light, his eyes are darker than normal but I’d know them anywhere. Chase is standing over me, worrying his lip between his teeth. That doesn’t explain why my mouth is so fucking cold though. His warm hand covers my mouth when he clocks my confusion.

“It’s ice. Keep it in your mouth and let it melt. It’ll help, okay?” His voice is so warm, like a blanket over my raw nerve endings. I find myself nodding and leaning further into him. He removes his hand in favor of threading it through my sweaty hair. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.” He sighs, clearly relieved. Like I scared him.

It occurs to me that I have no idea where the fuck we are. It’s quieter here than in the bar, I know that much. The air is cooler, making goosebumps break out over my now clammy skin. An alley. That’s where we are. Chase must have taken me outside when he saw I was losing it.

The ice cube is all but melted now. I don’t know if I need another one, but it is helping keep my thoughts on the present and not spiral out of control. I only need to open my mouth before Chase slides another one in with a self-assuredlittle smirk. “Sometimes, I have decent ideas,” he muses. “I need to pay our tab, then we can go home. Sound good?”

Oh fuck. That one hit me in front of all his coworkers. He’s probably so embarrassed of me. No, no, no… “Stop it,” he demands, bopping me softly on the nose. “No runaway thoughts. Suck your ice cube and breathe. That’s it.” That firm tone makes my thighs clench together pathetically. “They didn’t even notice, Chaos. They all left the table to go play pool and when you didn’t move, that’s when I saw it. I told them we were going out for some fresh air, but they didn’t see that anything was wrong. But for what’s it's worth, even if they did, they wouldn’t have judged you.”

Moving the ice around, I mumble, “Can we go in to say goodbye first?”

Chase’s eyes soften. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

He’s not mad at me. He’s not embarrassed of me. I’m sucking his dick tonight, I’ve had enough ice cubes.

~~~

You know, if I’d thought this plan through a little better, I’d have remembered I don’t have any game. No idea how to tell him what I want to do. How to initiate. I don’t think I’ve even sucked a dick without the phraseit's the least you can dothrown in there somewhere. Now I want to do this so fucking badly that my mouth is watering, and feel like I can't speak the language I need to. He’s a perfect gentleman on the way home, intertwining our fingers and resting them just above my knee. So respectful, given that I just lost it in public. I’m still reeling from how he just knew how to handle it and get me back to functional so easily. But now I’m good again, and I want him.

I can do this. Think of the reward.

“Iwannasuckyourdick!” I blurt into the silent car. A hacking cough gives me the bravery to look over, only to find him fucking choking to death. “Fuck, are you okay?”

He waves me off, but can’t seem to catch his breath. Oh my god, we’re going to crash and die because I wanted to suck a dick. Exactly like my parents said when they kicked me out. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. By the time the fucking Grim Reaper decides to leave Chase earthbound for the night, my cheeks are hot enough to fry an egg on, and I have to look out the car window so he can’t see my lip trembling. This is what I get for putting myself out there, I’m just lucky he seems fine.

“Sweetheart,” he says with a gravelly voice. Guilt and embarrassment battle for dominance in my gut. Maybe he’ll slow down the car enough for me to jump out. If he tries to let me down easy after that absolute shit show, I might try regardless. “Look at me.” It’s one of his softer commands as far as they go, but he might as well have shouted for how helpless I am to resist him.

---