Page 79 of When I'm Gone

Chase’s hand stays glued to my thigh the entire time we’re out getting lunch, and I feel so happy that it threatens to burst out of me like sun rays cresting the horizon. This. This is all I ever wanted, and he’s the only person I want it with. Call me simplistic maybe, it’s not like we’re doing anything awe-inspiring or anything, but to someone who hasn’t felt safe a day in my life, it’s everything.

After work, Chase dresses for the gym, and I lace up my sneakers for a run. Brady tries to convince me to join them because it’s still fairly dreary out, but being able to explore the area by myself is more important to me than getting a little wet.

“What if you get sick?” Brady asks with a frown.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You don’t get sick from being in the rain, Brady. That’s not how viruses work. Have you always worried so much or is that a new thing?”

He contemplates it for a second. “When it involves you, not new at all. I used to be better at playing it cool, though, so that’s a little concerning.”

Chase claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. I’ve never known you to play it cool once in the last six years. I think you’re in the clear.”

Brady glares daggers and absolutely calls Chase a dick, but the familiarity between them melts my heart. I’m so glad that Brady finally has someone he can lean on, especially with the hell I’ve put him through, not knowing if I was okay or not for years. He’s such a good brother, he doesn’t even resent me for the years he had to hold me together. To him, it’s just what was necessary. To me, it means the absolute world to have had a safe space; someone who loved me, dumping pixie sticks down my throat so that I wouldn’t get in trouble for my “laziness.”

I can’t help but snort a laugh at their antics. They bicker like an old married couple, but I’ve noticed the way Chase only pretends to be annoyed with him. They’re so intertwined, it’s like having a sitcom going on around me at all times. One cracks a mildly insulting joke, one fakes insults like clockwork. One pokes, one barely hides a grin.

“Yeah, how drastically uncool of me to love my little brother,” he drawls with a pout.

“See? That’s your problem. We’re supposed to hate each other, it’s like the natural order or whatever.”

Chase nods in sage agreement but Brady frowns. “I never understood that. Aren’t your siblings supposed to be your best friends? Everyone always says shit like that and then you hear that they chased each other around with knives or something.”

Such a fucking marshmallow. I missed him so much. “Are you going to let me run in peace or were you hoping to distract me enough that I forget?”

He scoffs. “How dare you? Is it working?”

The laugh that bursts out is so unexpected and free, it doesn’t even sound like it’s mine. “Not even a little.”

With a sweet kiss left on my lips as a parting gift, Chase corrals my brother out the door. “We’ll be back,” he announces like the grumpy care bear that he is. As if I ever doubted that fact. It warms something buried deep in my chest that he reassures me so naturally. It’s like stepping back into the warmest memories of my childhood, my older brother soothing fears before they even have a chance to manifest.

I grab my headphones from the end table, find a playlist with the right vibe and take off with no real destination. I’ve been averaging about five miles, give or take, and I’m damn proud of myself. It’s embarrassing how much I let my bodyand mind deteriorate, but it feels incredible to be coming back to myself.

Some people say that you have to be able to love yourself before you have any business trying to love someone else, which on one hand, I get. But as my feet pound into the pavement, the neighborhood I’ve come to call my home passing me by, I can’t help but wonder if the people who say that ever needed a second chance. Someone who sees you better than you see yourself and believes in you.

Maybe I gave myself a second chance by actually leaving Aaron when I saw him in that fucking park and not looking back, but if that’s true, Chase has kept the flame alive and has given me the oxygen I needed so it could grow. I wouldn’t call it a raging burn yet, but it’s steady, reliable. No longer a flickering, barely there thing, likely to be doused by the smallest breeze.

Progress is progress.

As my speed picks up, I let the music drown it all out and just run. I ignore the burning in my lungs, searching for that magic place where it all fades into the background, and I can really push myself. I never got into the habit of distance running in Florida, sue me, but that I could be absolutely drenched in sweat within the first five minutes didn’t really appeal to me. I’d go for a jog a few times a week but that was about it. But here? I could get used to this. The summer heat has been positively mild and now that it’s beginning to wane, this isn’t half bad. Somewhere I could be for a really long time and be happy. Maybe longer than a long time.

Lost in my own world, I cross the street without looking. The black car doesn’t see me either, doesn’t even slow down. Time stretches out, making the seconds seem like hours, as my heartbeat pounds in my ears. Maybe I scream, maybe I’m hearing things, but thankfully, some survival instinct buried deep in my brain kicks in and my legs jump out of the way ofdanger before I can even process what happened. The brakes squeal as the car slams to a stop no more than an inch away from me.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.

I dig the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. I’m not going to have a fucking panic attack right in the middle of the street. I’m fine. Just a near miss. Apologize and just keep running. It’s not a thing, don’t make it one.

Gritting my teeth, I wave my hand in apology to the driver without looking up. I don’t want to see their frustration with my carelessness. Who crosses the street in a busy neighborhood without looking? That was so fucking stupid.

I shake it off and take off again before I can get yelled at by a stranger. One foot in front of the other, pounding against the pavement. The repetition calms the worst of my anxiety, it’s why I make myself do this. As far as coping mechanisms go, I’ve done a lot worse, after all.

Minutes go by, and I think I’ve managed to shake off the scare. When awareness prickles along the back of my neck, I know I’m being crazy. My fight-or-flight response has been stuck in overdrive and is simply glitching out. It can’t be trusted. I’ve been getting bad feelings out of nowhere left and right over the last few weeks. Being convinced someone is watching me, but no one is there. Random urges to flee for my life during a completely normal, mundane moment. Clearly, my mind can’t fully wrap itself around the fact that I’m safe now and is manufacturing problems I don’t need.

I just want to be happy. I am happy, brain malfunctions aside. Having Brady back, falling head over heels for a guy that changes my world view with his kindness and care for me, it’s all so insanely wonderful. It’s just this one thing making me shaky. So I run. I hate it, and it helps a metric tonwith the lingering tendrils of anxiety that won’t seem to let me go.

After the third time I scratch my neck still trying to get rid of that pesky awareness, I take a quick peek over my shoulder. Apparently, I need to see it to believe I’m okay. When I see a black car creeping behind me, my steps stumble. Staying upright is a near thing, I’ve grown so accustomed to not finding anything when I’m feeling like this that actually being right is alarming.

It’s the same one that almost hit me, I think, not that I can see very well when I’m trying to be discreet and not stop moving at the same time. If this guy is mad enough to follow me, if I slow down, I’m probably gonna be in big trouble.

That’s not happening, so I pick up the pace. Maybe he’s just driving around looking for the right house or something. Sometimes food delivery drivers can’t find up from down and end up looking like creeps with enough soggy tacos to feed a family of four. It’s a thing. That’s probably what’s going on, it would explain how he almost hit me. Doesn’t know the neighborhood very well.

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