Page 4 of Letters From a Broken Heart
I head straight to my bed and climb under the covers. I lift the sheets to my nose and inhale deeply. They stopped smelling like Jack a long time ago and that breaks my heart. I keep meaning to ask Easton to bring me his cologne, but I always forget. I'm too lost in my own misery to really remember anything.
“I thought you were going to eat.” Easton stands in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest and he stares at me.
“Just give me an hour, East. I'm exhausted. You know that’s normal with my recovery.” I pat the bed next to me and the smallest smile slips out as he rolls his eyes and stomps towards the bed.
I love when he acts like he doesn’t want to do something, but he does it anyway because I asked him to. I think he secretly wants to come lay with me, but he’ll never admit it.
He toes off his shoes and tosses his jacket on the chair in the corner, then he climbs in behind me and tugs my back against his chest.
He holds onto me like I really am his only reason to keep going and that kills me. I can't be someone else’s reason to live when I barely have the will to keep doing this myself.
“I love you, Tay. Don’t let me lose you too,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around me and nuzzles his face into my neck.
“I love you too.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let my silent tears come. Easton’s always taken care of me and I know now isn't going to be any different, but I don’t want to become a miserable chore he feels like he needs to handle every day. Eventually, he’ll resent me and the way I’ve acted.
He’s right. I don’t have Jack, but I do have him and I need to get my life back together. I’ll do it for him if I can't do it for myself. I’d do anything for the Maxwell boys.
I slip out from beneath Easton’s arm and climb out of bed. I want to get this done before he wakes up. Maybe I can even climb back in bed with him and take a little nap. I’m definitely going to need it after this. I’ve barely had any energy since my surgery and Jack’s death. Some days, I don’t even get out of bed unless I have to use the bathroom or if my stomach is grumbling too much to ignore it.
Grabbing the empty hamper from the corner of my room, I carry it into the living room and begin tossing clothing into it. I’ve been a pig since I left my parents' house, but recovering from a heart transplant and a broken heart at the same time is hard.
Once the hamper is overflowing, I grab a trash bag and start shoving every piece of trash I see into it. I might not be able to lift the hamper or bags, but I can at least fill them. The bag is stuffed with trash way too quickly and I really should be embarrassed Easton even saw my apartment looking like this. But it’s Easton. He’d never judge me for this. Somehow, it feels like he understands.
After there are three full trash bags waiting at the door to be taken out to the dumpster, I let out a sigh. There’s still a sink full of dishes waiting to be scrubbed. I really hate dishes, but I created this mess and I need to clean it up.
“Come back to bed, Tay. You’re going to over exert yourself. Take a nap and I’ll deal with the dishes.” Easton wraps his armsaround my waist from behind. I lean my head back against his chest and stare up at him. I really am exhausted already. It’s embarrassing.
“I'm beat, but I don’t want you to do the dishes. I’ll do them.”
“It’s not a big deal. And I don’t mind one bit.” His thumb moves softly back and forth over my hip, making me relax into his body.
This is what I need. Physical touches from Easton to remind me I'm not alone. That there’s still someone in this world who cares about me besides my parents.
“No, I want you to hold me for a little longer.”
“Are you going to sneak out of bed again?” The corner of his lips twitch into the smallest smile and it makes my lips do the same.
The larger my smile gets, the more Easton’s spreads until we’re both grinning like idiots for the first time since Jack died.
“No, I won't sneak out of bed again. This made me tired.” I motion around the room, which is still a mess. I barely made a dent in it, but that’s ok. I can do a little bit every day. I can slowly get my apartment and my life back to how it used to be.
“Which is why you need to let me help you.” Easton kisses my temple before taking my hand in his and leading me back to my room. “You get a thirty-minute nap, then we’re ordering dinner. I'm starving.”
“Fine, but you better cuddle like a pro if I only get thirty minutes.”
“Well, you could’ve had much longer, if you didn’t sneak out of bed to clean.” He rolls his eyes.
We both get situated in bed and this time, we’re facing each other. Easton watches me carefully. There’s something in his gaze I can't quite decipher. I want to ask him what he’s thinking about, but honestly, I'm too tired for that conversation right now.
“Does it hurt anymore?” His voice is soft and gruff.
“Does what hurt?”
Instead of answering me, he reaches out and brushes his finger over the portion of my scar that’s exposed. It’s a nasty scar, going from the base of my neck down to the bottom of my ribs.
“It’s sore, but it doesn’t hurt like it did,” I whisper.
