Page 15 of When I'm Gone

Yeah, okay. I can do this.

I grab bedding from the closet at the end of the hall and get to work. When I feel his eyes on me, I look up to find him looking nervous. “Everything okay, Chaos?” The nickname was supposed to soften him but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Let me do it, please.” His voice quakes and those damn eyes bore into me. “Please,” he begs again.

I drop the linen and hold my hands up in surrender. “If that’s what you want,” I say slowly. This is not the mountain I die on, that’s for certain. He nods fervently, so my feet move backwards a few steps. As much as I’m confused, a pang of sympathy hits me. There’s something scratching at the corner of mind, begging for attention, insisting it’s got answers I’m supposed to be seeing on my own. But it’s been a hell of a day, even before Easton showed up and tilted my world on its axis. Whatever it is, it slips away before I can grab it, so I ask him if needs anything, tell him there’s towels in the closet when he insists he doesn’t, and make a swift getaway to the safety of my bedroom.

I don’t have the slightest clue what sent Easton to his brother’s doorstep, and subsequently, my spare bedroom, but my gut tightens when I consider the possibilities. None of them are good.

All I can do is hope that this is a fresh start for him and that I’m doing the right thing, but I’m not sure it’s enough.

CHAPTER 5

EASTON

The bed is pretty comfortable, it’s probably the only reason I managed to doze off for a little bit. It isn’t even close to what I need to feel rested, but I’m not picky. The bus ride here was twenty-seven years long, give or take, and there was no way I was sleeping in front of strangers. Any sleep is a step in the right direction, or at least that’s what I tell myself as I rub the grit out of my eyes.

This whole situation sucks, and that’s putting it mildly. The last thing I want is to ever ask my family for charity ever again, then my life exploded and I was left with no other choice. And Brady acted like this was some wonderful homecoming, like this wasn’t my rock bottom and he wasn’t the reason we lost touch.

His mega-hot best friend was another matter entirely. With that fucking way he tended to me, that calm magnetic energy I could get used to real fast if I let myself. Which I can’t. Obviously.

My sanity seems to unravel in his presence, which pisses me the fuck off. I’m holding it together the best I can, but my own brain turning on me and peppering me with flashbackslike I survived ‘Nam or something is not for the faint of heart.

What I’m having the hardest time with is the lack of emotion despite my ending things with the guy I’ve spent the last four years in love with. I was expecting to be torn up about it, but that’s the easiest thing I’ve got going on internally.

The sounds of Chase moving around in the kitchen pull me from bed. Like an addict needing a hit, I’m chasing the oblivion he provides. I shuffle down the hallway until I see him, shirtless with his god-like body and tattoos on full display because the universe hates me. For someone that damn big, he has no reason being so graceful. It’s insulting.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, giving me a mouthwatering view of his—Shit, shit! Did he catch me staring?

“Hey, Chaos,” he drawls. “I didn’t think I’d see you for a while. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Chaos. What does that even mean? Why do I like it? “No, you didn’t,” I admit. That was all he-who-shall-not-be-named managing to haunt me from across the country. Lucky me.

He nods, like he actually cares whether he wakes me up or not. According to the clock on his stove, it’s a little after midnight. I want to ask him why he’s up, but then he might ask me the same and that’s just not a thing that’s happening.

Chase is making a sandwich, causing my stomach to rumble in response. I don’t know if I’m allowed to eat his food.Hedidn’t like it when I ate things without permission, and I really don’t want to fuck up my new living situation before I can figure out my next step. Plus, with how weird Chase makes my head, there’s a good chance I’ll burst into tears the second he raises his voice at me. That would be embarrassing.

So, I resign myself to watching him, which is really nohardship despite the hunger pangs. He’s got an eat-in kitchen with two stools in front of a cutout window with a pretty dark countertop at the perfect height to prop my elbows on and observe.

And that’s exactly what I do, daydreaming about the what-ifs of Chase Adler while the man himself is in front of me. He’s putting more effort into a sandwich than I would have guessed for a midnight snack. There’s even pesto sitting out on the counter. My mouth waters but I push past it. He seems nice enough, maybe he wouldn’t be mad.

I’m so lost in trying to convince myself to ask if I can make something for myself that a small gasp escapes my lips when he slides a plate in front of me with half a sandwich and some apple slices.

He doesn’t even look at me when he does it, like it’s a reflex more than something he did with an expectation. I should have said I’d stay on Brady’s ugly ass couch, I have no idea how to process Chase being so goddamn nice.

“I can make you something else if you’d like,” he offers when I gape at him for too long.

His pale eyes almost glow in the light, and I suddenly realize he’s being completely serious. “No,” I rush out. “No, it looks good.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“No big deal,” he assures me.

Christ, if he doesn’t think I’m on drugs, he’s definitely going to think I’m an idiot who doesn’t understand social cues. In my defense, I was fine a week ago. Not the bumbling dumbass he reduces me to without even trying. I have no idea what the problem is now. His guess is as good as mine.

The food is so good, I almost moan when I take a bite, and I see Chase’s mouth quirk up at the corner in a small smile. He doesn’t call me out, thankfully, and we eat in a comfortable quiet I haven’t felt in a long time. Chase isn’t trying to pry information out of me, and I know I need tokeep my baggage close to my chest so it works. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m waiting on the other shoe to drop, we’re just two people sharing food and trading soft glances back and forth.

When I’ve cleaned my plate, Chase takes it and carries both to the dishwasher. It’s so domestic and normal, a small giggle bursts out of me. I slap my hand over my mouth as my cheeks turn hot enough to fry an egg.

The hottest guy I’ve ever seen is going to have me committed.

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