Page 31 of When I'm Gone

An ear-splitting shriek of joy interrupts his sweet ramblings and Chase’s eyes widen as a ball of glittery pink tulle with pigtails comes running his way with who I’m assuming is her mom close behind. Chase crouches down and swoops the bundle up in his arms, making it burst into a fit of high-pitched giggles while he murmurs about how much he missed her.

He doesn’t even have a chance to get the kid in his arms properly situated before another body slams into him full force. Sage gets shifted to one arm so that he can wrap the other around his sister as she squeezes him around the torso.

The whole reunion is so heartfelt, I can’t decide if I want to linger and hope that some of that familial love seeps over my way or find a reason to back away so I’m not reminded of everything I don’t have.

The decision is made for me when Chase’s niece projectile launches herself sideways in my direction, making me throw my hands out to make sure she doesn’t crack her head open. Chase just laughs, he must have not been as surprised by her gymnastics as I am. He raises a dark brow at me in a question which I answer with a quick nod.

Sage is passed to me with the toothiest cheesing smile on her round face. I could be knocked over with a feather when I get a good look at her and see pale eyes looking back at me. “Remember what we practiced?” Logan gently prompts.

Sage looks between her mom and I quickly, her pigtails swinging wildly. “Oh yeah! Hi, my name is Sage Margeaux Adler, it's nice to meet you.”

She looks back at Logan for confirmation. “Good job, kiddo. The full name was a good touch.”

It was an insanely adorable touch. “Hi, Sage. I’m Easton.”

“Eassin,” she tries.

Chase beams, my throat tightens. “Perfect,” is my strangled reply.

Man, she really dressed up to pick us up from the airport. Fluffy princess dress with matching bows pinned at the top of her sandy blond head. She’s in stark contrast to her mom, who has Cruella DaVile split-dyed hair, at least three facial piercings paired with black lipstick and heavy eyeliner.

God, how my dad would have beat my ass if I’d even tried to pierce something on my face.

“Easton, she can totally walk if you don’t want to carry her around,” Logan says. Sage laces her hands together behind my neck, making it clear what her goal is here.

Chase snorts. “Like she’s ever walked anywhere when one of us is around.”

His hand returns to my back as we try to navigate out of this damn zoo. “That’s the problem, you three spoiling my kid. You know she asked Em to take her to Broadway for her birthday, right? And that jackass is really looking into it.”

When we make it outside, the sun is most of the way set on the horizon leaving overheated concrete and pretty periwinkle skies. Chase and Logan bicker about the pros and cons of a three-year-old going to the Big Apple, and I decide with absolute certainty that my crush is getting outof hand. Four years ago in Florida, I was captivated, watching him be a friend to my brother. I had never seen Brady ever connect with someone like he did with Chase; he had tons of surface level buddies but it was nothing like that.

As it turns out, it had nothing on watching him be a brother and uncle.

Have I said I’m fucked recently? Because I am so very, very fucked.

“Eassin can buckle me,” Sage announces proudly as we come to a sleek black Audi.

Logan rounds the passenger side. “Is that a fact?” she asks her daughter.

It is not a fact but I’m pretty sure I can manage. This kid is putting a lot of faith in me rather quickly, but who am I to judge her process?

With only minor directions from the preschooler, I get her in her car seat safe and sound where she promptly informs me we’re friends so I have to sit with her. Logan insists I can tell her no, but she’s growing on me, so it’s not a hard fight.

My heart rate is finally slowing down now that we’re away from what I’m assuming was the entire population of Illinois in one place. Having a kid attaching herself to me so I don’t feel as out of place is also making a pretty big difference. Chase drives on the way back to his parent’s house while Logan plays DJ, and Sage tells me all about the riveting plot of her favorite dog cartoon in uniquely jumbled English that only a toddler with a brain working faster than their tongue can pull off.

I keep repeating to myself that I’m okay in my head. Chase isn’t upset with me, in fact, I keep accidentally catching his eyes in the rearview mirror and he’s never looked anything but laid-back. Like he took twenty poundsof weight off his shoulders as soon as we touched down. Maybe I wasn’t his problem as much as I liked to think I was.

Maybe the situation can be stressful without him blaming me for it.

Seems kind of optimistic, though.

The Adler’s live about twenty-five minutes from the airport on a cute residential street with nearly identical bungalows packed in about as tightly as they can fit. Ash trees are lined up in front of each house. Chase pulls up in front of a pale yellow one about as decked out in pride flags as it can be. Little progress and trans flags are alternating up the walkway, banners of pride are hung from the overhang porch and rainbow fairy lights are wrapped around the support pillars.

Logan gets Sage out and lets her run loose into the house, shouting for her grammy to come meet her friend. My feet seem to be rooted to the pavement, all I can do is stare, trying to comprehend what having that level of support at home would have been like.

I don’t even notice Chase until he wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. “They must love you,” I murmur, eyes stinging.

I feel him nod more than see it. “They do, but they were like this well before I knew I was gay. This has been their same setup every June for my entire life—longer, I would assume, I just haven’t ever asked.”

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