I chuckle warmly. “Come here, grumpy. I’ve got an idea.”
Reluctantly, he slithers over and buries his face in my skin to make up for the absence of a shield. This has me feeling oddly self-conscious, but I’d do anything to help him in any way I can. I grab the book, crack it open to page one and start reading out loud.
He taps my shoulder, like he doesn’t want to interrupt, but curiosity is consuming him. I stop so he can ask, “What are you doing, love?”
“Reading to you. Is that okay?”
“Yeah… but why?”
Because I’d do anything to distract you from your pain since I can’t take it away. “Well, it might have something to do with the fact that we’re both wide awake in the middle of the night, and you seemed to really like these books when you were reading them. Maybe you were on to something.”
He nuzzles further against me like a cat. “Okay. If you’re sure—they’re kinda cheesy and gooey. That’s not really your thing.”
“It’s yours and you have excellent taste. If we don’t like it, we’ll find another one. Deal?”
Easton pulls the blankets up to his ears, sealing us in a warm little cocoon. “Deal.”
It’s not a permanent solution by any means, but when he falls asleep about twenty pages later, I’m able to close the book and join him easily knowing that it was enough to give him some much-needed reprieve.
~~~
We’ve learned that after Easton stumbles, he’ll come to us when he’s ready to address the situation, and any attempts to say something beforehand will just cause him unnecessary stress. So as challenging as it’s been to wait him out after the panic attack and injury resulting from running by himself, no one has pushed him, and we’ve just been trying to be there for him in a way that helps instead of hurts.
The only real clue to how worried the three of us have been is the concerned looks we share over his shoulder.
But it happened to him and he gets the right to decide how to proceed from here, so we’re following his lead. Brady has been dragging my ass down to the basement at a horrificallyreoccurring pace to try and mitigate the added energy, and it has—as much as it pains me to admit this—helped significantly.
So when Easton, with a decent limp, walks down the stairs and stands in front of the couch with his hands on his narrow hips, I know that he’s ready.
“I’m doing the gallery,” he announces firmly, not an ounce of doubt in his voice.
“Okay. That’s great, sweetheart. We’re all behind you a hundred percent.”
He nods, like he was expecting that. “But Aaron will sabotage it if he’s given an opportunity, so we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Blake claps her hands together. “Couldn’t agree more, lovebug. Come sit down. Let’s figure it out.”
Brady glances at me, resignation on his face. “There’s no way I don’t hate the end result of this fucking strategy meeting, is there?”
I shake my head and clap him on the shoulder in sympathy. “Nope. But I’m gonna hate it just as much.”
“Well, that’s fair then. At least I’m not alone.”
No. He’s very much not alone. In the following debate that would put the United States Congress to shame, I say at least a dozen times that we are not qualified for any of this shit. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that the police aren’t finding him fast enough, and the only thing that sicko wants is in this room. “Look, Easton cannot be put in a position where he’s the only one to defend himself. He’s got a shit ton of PTSD and fight, flight, or freeze is unpredictable. That’s what went wrong a few days ago. It’s nothing against you, sweetheart, but it’s just dangerous to have you try anything on your own. And this fuckhead watches closely and only tries shit when you’re alone. We’re at an impasse.”
Easton digs his hands into his eye sockets and groans. “I know. But what do we do?”
Brady cracks his knuckles and looks to the ceiling for inspiration. “Okay. Why doesn’t he act when you and Blake are together? He’s seen you guys together frequently since you got out of the hospital. He gets closer than when it’s me or Chase. But never tries anything.”
Blake says, “The obvious answer is that he’s more confident in his ability to overtake two people if one is Easton and the other is a woman. But I’m the most recognizable out of us, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t know that.”
“Okay.” I sigh. “So physically speaking, he only considers me and Brady a threat, but you’re a threat by nature of people being more aware of you.”
“That would make sense for him,” Easton adds.
Easton tucks his cold feet under my thigh and collapses on his back with a flare. “So we’re right back where we started.” He throws his arm over his eyes and swears colorfully.
“So what’s stronger? His fear of getting noticed because of me or the impulse to destroy something important to Easton?”
