Page 63 of When I'm Gone

“No, dumbass,” I answer with a snort. “Forgive me for giving a shit about you, I’ll try to work on that.”

He returns easily, “See that you do. You’re bad for my blood pressure.”

I roll my eyes, not that he can see it. “I only have a few minutes. Parker is talking Easton’s ear off about a concert he wants them to go to, so I thought I’d see what was going on with you.”

He hums in consideration. “Well, you know, just the normal things. Trying to find Easton’s fucking birth certificate because he wants to get an ID done when I couldn’t tell you where my own is if you were paying me. But he actually asked me for something so I have to deliver. My computer is arguing with me about installing this software thing Marianne wants us using, and I don’t appreciate the attitude. Easton hates me a little less, I think. Knock on wood. We both hate our parents more. And to top it all off, I feel fucking weird texting you so I’ve been left to my own thoughts for, like, ten hours today. It’s a miracle I’ve made itthis long, but I’m glad you finally heard me yelling at you inside my head. So yeah, things are great.”

I can’t help but laugh. Brady’s stressed out ramblings are warranted by the sound of it, and I know that I’m the only one that gets his info-dumping, so he really has been waiting for me. “Buddy, that was a lot you were holding in there. You good?”

He sighs. “Yeah, I’m great. I just needed to be dramatic for a minute.”

“If we’re to the solutions part of this conversation, both of your birth certificates are at my house. We moved all your important stuff here when we redid your floors and you never took anything back.”

“Oh yeah! I remember that now. Well, give Easton his stuff, please. He said something about his ex handling getting the one he has now with the typo, but I don’t even know how that happened without any legal documents, and it’s just safer if he starts over again.” Even the mention of that piece of shit fills my mouth with a sour taste. “Am I allowed to ask about him?”

My heart pangs uncomfortably. How pushed aside he must feel. I’m bound to be failing someone at any given time, it seems. “You’re always allowed to ask, Brady. I’ll tell you anything I can, just not betray his privacy. And he’s better, after talking to you. It was good for him.”

Brady is so unendingly patient. He’d wait a lifetime for Easton to be ready to have the kind of relationship they used to have, or even as close as they can get to it again. That patience cushioned my entire college experience. It’s one of his best traits. But that doesn’t change the fact that having to lean on it so heavily in this situation is gut wrenching to witness, it has to be unimaginable to be feeling it firsthand. “I’ll let him tell you about it. But it was good for both parties. Overdue.” His voice is heavy with emotion he’s trying tomask. Suddenly, this phone call is a lot heavier than I hoped for.

Easton’s giddy chatter fills my ears, warring with the ache in my soul. “Hey, Bray?”

“Yeah?”

I’m firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Never feel weird about texting me. You’re my best fucking friend.”

He thankfully agrees, and we hang up just in time for Easton to come rushing to find me. “You’re not going to believe this,” he cries excitedly.

He brings a smile to my face, whether my heart entirely feels it or not. “Tell me, Chaos.”

“Parker wants to take me, me of all people, to a concert. He said I was the first person he thought of. Can you believe that? First.”

I can believe it, but I don’t want to spoil his fun by telling him Parker ran it by me first or that each member of my family feels the need to make up for lost time with him. “You guys are going to have the best time, baby.”

One second, he’s standing in the open door and the next, he’s in my lap with a grin so wide it threatens to crack his face. Absolute perfection. “You’re really okay with me going… like, with your brother.” His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said. “No. No. Not with your brother, obviously. Oh, my god. You know I wouldn’t?—”

A kiss silences his nervous ramblings. “I know what you meant. And I think it’s great.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders for a breath before his eyes widen. “Friendship bracelets.”

I cock an eyebrow at him, I’m completely drawing a blank here. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

He laughs, soft and sweet. “Oh, you poor naïve man. It means everything.”

The distinct feeling that I’m going to have my hands fullwith him and my little brother together in the same place settles somewhere inside my ribs, and I welcome the challenge.

~~~

Good news of not having to leave Easton at home by himself means there’s plenty of time to focus on mending some of the more jagged edges he was left with. The domestic routine comes second nature to us, and the ease of it is allowing me to see a whole different side of him. Who he is when his needs are being met consistently is a beautiful thing to behold. Watching him blossom, start to believe in himself all over again, feels sort of like watching Sage take her first breath. Awe-inspiring, monumental, and unworthy of my eyes.

There’s this moment in the morning, after I’ve made the coffee and usually had the time to answer all of an email or two, where he comes stumbling into my office bleary eyed, adorably wrapped in the blanket from our bed where he simply wants to be near me while he wakes all the way up. All it takes is a simple pat to my leg as an invitation for him to glue himself to me for about half an hour while I type one-handed so I can rub his back while he sips from the overly-sweet iced coffee I’ve started leaving on my desk for him next to my own steaming mug.

It’s the highlight of my entire day.

About half the time, he’s started coming with me and Brady to the gym. Probably because if he’s with us, Brady will usually suggest frozen yogurt afterwards, and Easton is heavily motivated by cookies and cream with an abhorrent amount of chocolate sprinkles, but it’s still enough to settle a fraction of the tension that’s rooted itself inside me from being caught in the middle.

Tonight, we decide to switch it up with s’mores aroundthe firepit. Sue me, I’m also dessert motivated, and Easton is… restless.

He shifts his hips as my hand climbs higher on his thigh, but stops just before I’m where he wants me. “Goddamn, it’s too close for comfort,” Brady observes from the other side of the flame.

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