Waste My Time by Kelsey Clayton

I knewthings would be different. I mean, you don't go through what we went through and come out the same person. But what I didn't expect was for Easton to be so shut down. He insists he's fine every time someone asks. He even forces himself to laugh around his friends and smile at all the right moments. But I know him. Something is eating him alive, and he won't tell me what it is.

Three weeks pass but the fear never seems to fade. It's like, I know he's dead and he can't hurt me anymore, but I'm still waiting for something to jump out at me. To hit me over the back of the head and hold me captive again, convincing me that I'm going to die. And if I'm feeling all of this, how could Easton be fine?

He’s not. He's lying.

I walk into Safe and Sound, finding who I'm looking for sitting at a table next to Colby Hendrix and across from a little girl. Tessa spots me out of the corner of her eye and smiles. She waves me over, and Colby and the little girl get up.

“Hey,” she greets me. “Do you have an appointment today? I thought it wasn't until next week.”

After everything, both Tye and Tessa suggested I see a therapist. It's not a bad idea. Honestly, it'll be good to talk to someone about the nightmares I've been having. Tess even set me up with her mentor, Danielle. But right now, I'm more worried about Easton than myself.

I shake my head. “No. I came to talk to you, actually.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “Okay. Give me one minute then.”

Tess picks up the little girl and gives her a big hug before giving one to Colby, too.

“Thanks for bringing me lunch,” she tells him. “And be nice to your dad, Brenna!”

She scrunches her nose. “I'm always nice, Aunt Tess.”

Tessa chuckles. “Sure you are.”

“Thank you!” Colby shouts. “At least you see it. Asher acts like she's a goddamn angel, I swear.”

Brenna smacks her dad in the leg. “Potty mouth, Daddy!”

“Yeah. Potty mouth, Daddy,” Tess repeats teasingly.

Colby rolls his eyes and picks up his daughter, tickling her as he carries her out.

Once they're gone, Tessa nods for me to follow her, and we go into an empty office that honestly looks more like a sitting room than anything. There's none of the typical therapist things you see. No clipboards where they write down everything that leaves your mouth. It's all just calming pictures and comfortable couches.

She shuts the door behind us and sits down. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, and then correct myself. “Well, no. It's Easton. I'm worried about him.”

Her lips purse as she nods. “He's shutting people out, right? Zayn already reached out to me about it.”

“Oh, good. So I'm not the only one who sees it.”

“Not at all,” she chuckles. “Easton thinks he does well at hiding his feelings, but he's actually pretty bad at it. Zayn is just focused on making sure he doesn't relapse.”

I exhale slowly. “I'm not as worried about a relapse as I am him losing himself. I was hoping you could talk to him? Maybe see how he's really feeling?”

She smiles sadly at me. “I wish I could.”

My brows furrow as I realize she's telling me no. “What? Why can't you?”

“Because I'm not the closest person to him anymore,” she says, as if the whole concept is simple. “He was holding back from letting you in, but the second he did, when he told you about the night I overdosed, you took that spot.”

“B-but I can't get through to him like you can.”

“You can,” she assures me. “He loves you, Kennedy. Like wholeheartedly, more than he ever loved me, loves you. Give him some time to cope in his own way, but then take control. He'll follow you.”

The thought of being the only one who can keep him from going over the edge damn near sucks the air straight from my lungs. “What if I fail?”

She lets out a breathy laugh. “You won't. I'm here and I'm watching from the sidelines. But he's your future now, not mine. You two will get through this...together.”

I'm not sure if I believe her. Then again, I'm not sure of anything lately. But she sounds confident, and assures me again that she's here if I need anything. The message is clear, though.

This is my responsibility.

BY THE TIME OFour 35 week ultrasound, things are still tense. He holds my hand as we walk into the office, and he's constantly attentive when I'm moving around or seeming uncomfortable, but he's still distant. Like if he's not doing something to protect me or keep an eye on me, he's mentally someplace else.

The last few weeks have been rough. For me, the therapy is helping. Meeting with Danielle every week has actually become one of the highlights I look forward to. She doesn't try to force anything out of me or make me feel like she's judging the decisions I've made. But Easton still refuses to see anyone.

As if seeing a therapist would make him less of a man.

Less of a protector.

I've tried to get him to at least confide in me, but he blows me off. He says there is nothing to talk about. That the whole incident was caused by Alec and he won't allow himself to feel sorry for the psycho. And in a way, I get that. But he watched someone die. I have a hard time believing that had zero effect on him, especially when he's so different.

He doesn't make any attempt at getting me to be with him again. Doesn't try to kiss me or take things to another level again. He's just there, existing with me but not anything near the guy he was during that last party. The one who kissed me just to shut me up.

My last hope is this.

Seeing our baby on ultrasound.

Hearing his little heartbeat.

I just hope it works.

The technician calls my name and the two of us get up, following her back into a room. Easton takes the chair while I get up onto the table. She helps me roll my pants down, being as my belly is so big now I can't see anything past it, and I lay back.

“Are you excited?” she asks. “You're getting so close.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I can't wait to meet him. And you know, having his feet out of my ribs will be nice, too.”

She chuckles. “My second was like that. Actually cracked one of my ribs by kicking so hard.”

“That can happen?” Easton interjects.

“Oh, yeah,” she tells him. “But don't worry. It's not life-threatening. Just painful.”

That seems to calm him down as he relaxes back in the chair. I squeeze his hand as if silently assuring him that I'm okay, but I'm disappointed when he doesn't squeeze back—going just as distant and cold again as he has been lately.

“All right,” she announces. “Let's get a good look at this little guy.”

As he appears on the screen, it's amazing to see how big he's grown. He doesn't look like a tiny alien anymore. His body has filled out more and he looks healthy. My heart swells as I watch while she moves the wand around my stomach, taking measurements to obtain his size. But Easton is still checked out.

“Want to see something cool?” the tech asks me.

I nod, and when she hits a few buttons, our baby's face appears on the screen. Not in a way where we can see his brain, but where I can see how he looks. His button nose and his plump lips.

He looks like Easton.

A tear slips out and down my cheek, and that's when I feel it. Easton's hand squeezes mine. I turn to look at him, but find him staring at the screen. His mouth is open as he breathes heavily, and I watch as he has his first ever emotional reaction in weeks, staring at our son.

“He's perfect,” I whisper.

He snorts, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen. “He's half you, what did you expect?”

The technician smiles at us both. “I told you that you were going to make a beautiful baby.”

She shows us a few more angles, and we watch as he sucks his thumb and rubs his hand over his face. By the time the appointment is over, I wish I could relive it again and again. But unfortunately, she takes the wand off my stomach and turns the screen away from us.

“So, he's measuring a little ahead of schedule,” she tells us. “Don't be surprised if he ends up coming a little early. As of next week, you're considered full term.”

I nod as I take in all the information she's giving me. Knowing we'll be meeting our son soon is a level of excitement that both thrills me as much as it worries me. But nothing makes me happier than when she hands me the pictures she printed out.

Especially the one of his little face.

And as Easton and I leave the office, it feels like there's something lighter about him, but I refuse to get my hopes up.

THAT NIGHT, I'M SITTING on the couch across from Tye. She looks over the pictures from the appointment today and when she's done cooing about how adorable he is, her brows furrow. She pulls the picture away from her eyes and then back again.

“Oh, God,” she says as it hits her. “You're having Easton's clone.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “That's what I said! He looks just like him.”

“That's actually a horrifying thought.”

I reach over and swipe the pictures back from her, wanting to look at our baby again. “Well, I love him.”

“Oh, I do, too,” she assures me. “But that doesn't mean he won't be a tiny terror.”

“Well, that's a given. He's his father's son.”

I stare down at the picture, rubbing my finger over it in an adoring way. It's hard to believe this little guy is the one kicking up a storm in my belly all the time, flipping around like a damn gymnast.

“How's everything going, by the way? With Easton, I mean.”

How's it going? Isn'tthat the big question? It's the same question I've been asked at least three times a week. Even Amelia doesn't know how to connect with her own brother anymore. But today, seeing him at the doctor's appointment, it was the first time I've felt close to him in weeks.

“It's...complicated,” I admit. “But I'm still hopeful.”

“And in love with him,” she adds.

I cough as I choke on air. “W-what?”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Playing dumb is not your forte, Kennybabe.”

I throw my head back against the couch cushion, because she might be right. If it was really Easton at that lake instead of Alec, we might even be back together by now. But with everything that happened, nothing is the same. And if I'm being honest, it only made me even more hesitant, because as Danielle calls it, I'm traumatized.

As I go to answer her, admit to feelings that might even be unrequited at this point for all I know, the door flies open and scares the shit out of me. Easton storms over like a man on a mission and stands in front of me.

“Pack your shit,” he demands. “You're coming to stay with me.”

My eyes widen. “I am?”

“You are.” The confidence in his voice is sexy as hell. “I'm sick of not being able to sleep at night because I'm busy wondering if you're okay, so let's go. Get your shit. You're coming with me.”

The range of different emotions I feel is confusing. On one hand, every word that just came out of his mouth pulled at my heartstrings and gave me the urge to do anything he tells me to. But on the other hand, he's got a lot of nerve demanding this after the way he's been acting lately.

I decide to let my brain win this one, even though I know he's going to get his way. “You can't just storm in here and declare that I’m coming to live with you!”

“The fuck I can't,” he argues. “That's my baby in there, which means part of that body is mine. My baby, my house. Let's go.”

Fuck. Why is that so hot?

Looking over at Tye, she bounces her eyebrows as if she can practically read my mind. And yeah, I'm aware I'm totally fucked. I mean, I guess I always knew I would end up staying at Easton's. After all, the nursery is over there, and there has to be a reason I've been refusing Tye's offers to create one here all this time.

Without another word, I get up and go to my room to pack up some of my things, leaving a smug Easton in the living room, feeling like he won.

THE RIDE TO EASTON'Sis quiet. He's not as distant as he has been—getting his way with this seeming to have helped a bit—but he still gets lost in thought. Sometimes, I let myself wonder what's going through that mind of his. But then again, I don't know that I would be able to handle seeing the things he's been through. For a twenty-two-year-old guy, his life has been rather traumatic.

Neither Amelia nor Zayn are home as we go inside. They're probably at the venue for the meal tasting. She asked me to go with her, but I figured they needed to do at least one thing together. Don't get me wrong, planning this wedding has been the perfect distraction from everything. But it's them getting married, not Amelia and me—no matter how much she jokes that it should be.

“Where am I staying?” I ask Easton, realizing the guest room is now a nursery.

“My room,” he answers without hesitation. “If you want, I can sleep on the couch.”

I don't respond to that, mainly because I don't have the mental capacity to unpack that statement right now. Instead, he follows me as I march upstairs and into his room. As he gets inside, carrying my bags, I point to the corner.

“You can just put them over there.”

He does as I say, but he genuinely looks a little uncomfortable. Maybe he's realizing that he was a little out of line to demand I stay here. Or he's not used to getting an attitude from me. But right now, he kind of deserves one. As he goes to walk out of the room, I open my mouth.

“Let's get one thing straight,” I say confidently. “I came because I agree with you. This is your baby, and I should be here. But this body, this womb growing our child, is not yours. It's mine.” I take a step closer and stare up at him. “Say differently again and I'll make it so this baby is the only one you ever have.”

Meeting my gaze, he licks his lips and then smirks in the way that always does me in. “Yes, ma'am.”

SLOWLY, MY LIVING HEREinstead of at Tye's starts to get Easton to warm up again. It doesn't happen all at once. More like a small thing here and there. But I'll take any progress I can get at this point. I just miss my Easton.

The one who used to crack jokes at all the wrong times.

The one who was so in tune with my body that he moved when I moved.

The one I rarely had to worry about.

I'm sitting in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal, when my stomach twists. I hold my fist to my mouth as I mentally will myself not to throw up, but no part of my body intends on listening. Within the next second, I'm jumping up from the table and rushing into the bathroom.

Everything I just ate comes shooting out of me, like this baby is forcefully expelling it from my body. I barely even have a moment to catch my breath before more comes out.

Two hands come up from each side of my head and my hair gets pulled out of my face. Easton sits on the side of the tub, holding my hair back with one hand and rubbing my back with the other.

“Well, this looks familiar,” he teases.

It doesn't take much thought to know what he's referring to. My first college party. The first night we were alone together. Only, so much has changed since that night.

I groan and turn to the side, leaning back against the tub as my stomach finally calms down. He gets up and grabs a washcloth. Running it under cold water, he wrings it out and then kneels down in front of me. With the gentlest care I've ever seen in him, he carefully wipes my mouth, and then uses the clean side to wipe the tears from my eyes. Once I'm all cleaned up, he bends down and kisses my forehead before leaving the room.

And I'm just left to sit here, thinking about how fucked I am, and how much I wish we could go back to how we were.

Before Alec.

Before the lying.

Before everything became so complicated.

Because Tye has never been more right—I'm in love with him.