That’s a terrifying thought, but honestly, if I ever thought that Sage wouldn’t have her mother’s attitude then it was a miscalculation on my part. Compared to my sister, Emerson is a piece of cake. However, he manages to con me into agreeing to go to a home stand of hockey games with him soon, and I really don’t know how to feel about that.
But everyone is done being mad at me, and that’s good enough.
CHAPTER 26
EASTON
As I lace up my running sneakers, my fingers shake, which I very much don’t appreciate. As hard as I’m trying, this upcoming gallery is rattling me. It’s not Chase’s fault, and I can’t be upset with him for keeping it from me. With the way I’m handling the news, I can even admit it was probably for the best that I didn’t know for as long as I did. And I knew Margeaux was up to something. I theorized that maybe she’d buy one of my paintings to display somewhere. Even that would have been weird to swallow.
But this? I can’t do this.
Art has always been my private escape, the only way I could toss myself headfirst into a world that made sense to me. A fantasy. Nothing that was ever supposed to become too real. How can it be the place where I’m able to process the more complicated aspects of life if it’s going to be on display for strangers to critique?
I scrub my hands over my face and groan quietly. I’ve got to snap out of this somehow.
“Let’s go,” Blakely says as she jogs down the stairs. I only nod. The security system beeps as she sets it on our way out before setting off. She plans our routes ahead of time, followingthe path that has the highest chances of witnesses of that particular day. It’s only a small comfort, but it’s all we have.
She allows me to stew in peace, wrapped in a blanket of crisp pre-dawn fog. We’ve been at this long enough that I’ve been able to regain most of the endurance I lost so I no longer feel like I’m holding her back as much, but she still allows me plenty of time to warm up before going full speed.
I haven’t asked what she thinks of the show yet, not ready to hear any positive spin that might interrupt my sulking. I’d rather pull myself out of this particular tailspin, but that will require me to do something I’ve never done before: believe that I’m worthy.
Not something that will happen overnight.
The back of my neck prickles with awareness as goosebumps explode along my flesh. After discreetly looking around and finding nothing obvious, I have to tell Blakely. “He’s watching us. I can feel it.”
From my peripheral vision, I see her shiver. “That’s the goal. If we have his attention now, we need to try and keep it if you’re up for it.”
Like always, when presented with this awful reality I don’t want to deal with, that picture of fourteen-year-old Asher flashes into my mind. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to try and give that boy a break from his pain, even if it’s only temporary.
“I’m up for anything. I’m getting sick of this fucking game.”
She smirks in my direction. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Yeah, maybe so. Whatever it takes to end this once and for all. The feeling of being watched doesn’t leave for our entire run, so instead of going home and freaking the boys out first thing in the morning, we elect to walk to a nearby coffee shop and hang out there until we figure out what to do with all this attention we didn’t ask for.
Blake slides into the seat opposite of me, looking around wearily. “Your coffee and almond croissant, lovebug,” she says handing them over.
I hate seeing her so freaked out. Living afraid has a terrible effect on your soul after a while, a fact I know all too well. “Thanks. Got any ideas of how to kill time yet?”
She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “Take an exceedingly long time to finish our coffee and hope things start opening up by the time we’re through?”
“As good of a plan as any.”
Even despite the walls closing in as the monster grows more bold with each day that passes, we manage to give a good impersonation of two people who are holding it together. Discussions of books, tales from the days before we knew each other, and breakdowns of Landon’s games from two people who are a far cry from sports commentators all flow easily. We even are able to smile and laugh, thin as they may be. All that matters is that we’re putting on a convincing show.
After a quick search on my phone, I find our next destination. We toss our long empty cups on our way out and link arms like we’re nothing more than a couple of friends excited for a day of quality time. I don’t comment on the way her fingers threaten to cut off circulation in my arm and she doesn’t either. “Good pick. I can do a lot of damage in a jewelry store.”
“Really? I didn’t have a clue,” I mutter, eyeing the necklaces, earrings and bracelets she never takes off.
“Ha ha. You’re so funny. Be nice to me or I won’t buy you anything.” She makes for a display, leaving me spluttering like an idiot.
When I catch up, I rush to clarify, “I didn’t bring you here for that. I would never?—”
She silences me with a flick of her hand as she scans the case of rings. “Oh, please, babes. As if buying things for my friendsisn’t my favorite pastime. I know you don’t expect it. That’s why it’s fun. Now let’s see what we can do about getting you some pretty things to wear for your big day.”
It’s the first time it’s been mentioned since Chase revealed the news, and I take a mental inventory to see if something fatal is happening.
There’s nothing I can locate, so I guess that’s something.
