Blakely scoffs. “Have I ever refused? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I will. However, as your friend, it is within my rights to give you a sufficient amount of hell first.”
It’s not like I didn’t give her absolutely endless hell for marrying Landon, so I can’t really complain. I’d do it again, though, because he was making her upset and it was hard to watch—and that’s not even accounting for how hard it was for her to feel. “Yeah, all right.” I slump into a nearby chair and sigh heavily. “Get it all out now then help me figure out how to handle this, please.”
Collaboratively, we decide we’re in deep shit, but there’s no other choice but to fess up. Blake insists, and I agree that we can’t land on anything solid in regards to how to get this situation to its end without Easton, because we have no idea what he’s willing to do. I feel like I’m attending my own execution when I wander downstairs in search of the Callaghans. Brady’s going to kill me if this sends his little brother off the deep end, and I’d let him.
I find them deep in training and it’s a fascinating sight. Easton throwing punch after punch, face pink from exertion. Brady patiently encouraging him, absorbing the punches into the focus mitts with a smile. Not half bad considering they’ve only been going at it for a few days. I can certainly appreciate theway Easton’s shoulders move beneath the thin shirt he’s wearing and the determination in his eyes.
When they find a natural end in a few short minutes, the pit in my stomach returns. “Just supervising, Ace?” Brady asks, pulling the mitts off.
“Something like that,” I hedge. “Can I talk to y’all upstairs about something?”
Easton frowns, sensing the uncertainty in my tone. “Yeah, sure.”
I hate him being weary of me, but he should be. Brady is blissfully unaware. “Course. Then we’ll try and get the gazebo finished. We’re really close.”
Because I’m trying to practice optimism by not assuming he’ll be too pissed to tolerate me, I readily agree. The three of us trek upstairs together. Blake is waiting for us on the couch, a fresh bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap. Unnecessarily on the nose.
Easton joins her, immediately being offered the snack to share. I’m positive she would have bit me if I had tried that, but that’s beside the point.
“So what’s up?” Brady asks, throwing himself down on the other end of the sofa.
My hands wring together on their own accord. I shove them in the pocket of my sweatshirt when he zeros in on the action like a laser. “So I have news. Good, maybe, depending on how you look at it. Not that you have to, but I really hope that’s how you take it?—”
“Dude, are you having a stroke?”
I aim a glare in his direction. “No, Brady, I am not. But thanks for the concern.”
His hands raise, palms up. “Just checking.”
Goddamn. I’m really going to have no choice but to just come out with it. A guy can’t even beat around the bush anymore. “Mymom found this guy in Seattle who owns an industrial space and hosts a lot of events there. He’s a big supporter of the arts, and anyway, he agreed to host a gallery to showcase your mental health series. On your birthday, which I don’t think was on purpose, but it worked out like that.”
Brady’s stare burns into me, but I’m too focused on watching Easton’s every expression, looking for anger or horror. Betrayal. An endless list of possibilities that would boil down to me disappointing him. “I—No. No, you’re kidding. That’s a really mean joke.”
My heart breaks, splintering like glass. Hoping it’s not unwanted, I cross the room and kneel in front of him. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you, sweetheart. I really am. But I would never joke about something like this. You have phenomenal talent, and there are so many people who believe in you. If you want out, I’ll take the fall and get my mom to cancel everything. That being said, there are tons of people who would be inspired by what you can do, and I would hate to see you give up an opportunity to be seen just because I was a jackass and didn’t tell you what might be happening behind-the-scenes.”
I watch, devastated, as those fingers meant to create beauty cause him pain as he forcefully digs his nails into his wrist. “I know I broke a promise to you. When you told me you thought you were too much to deal with, I swore I’d overexplain myself to you, and this was a big thing to keep from you.”
He frowns, full lips turning down as his eyes finally find mine. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just confused, I think. And kinda overwhelmed by the idea?” He phrases it as a question, like someone is going to jump in to correct him about his feelings.
“That’s okay,” I say slowly. “You’re the one in control here, Easton. If you want the entire thing called off. If you want to find out more information before you decide one way or the other. Whatever you think is right for you.”
He leans forward to kiss me, quick but intentional. “I may never get used to the way you talk to me, but I sure like it. We’re good, my love. I’ll text your mom and go from there, okay?”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Brady mutters. “Come on then. We got work to do, Ace.”
Oh, fuck me. With that crisis averted, I have no excuse to get out of this. Blake kicks a foot out towards me so I have to jump back to get out of the way. “Yeah, go work. If you guys leave me a half-finished yard like Brady’s, I’m gonna be pissed.”
Wounded, Brady clutches his chest and groans dramatically. “Your words pierce me, woman.”
When we’re outside, he examines our project carefully. “It’s crooked because your head is turned sideways,” I say, anticipating his next thought.
“If it’s not level, I don’t live here, so I’m not losing any sleep over it.”
“There’s that can-do spirit I love so much.”
He elbows me sharply in the ribs and I yelp. It’s not until a while later while I’m perched on top of this damn thing like a bird that he decides to bring it up again. “You think he’ll do it?”
Without it requiring any thought at all, I say, “I do. He may need to freak out a bit first, but he’s so in love with these paintings he’s been working on that he’s going to do it just because not doing it would be giving up on them in a way.”
