by Melissa Blue
“Why did you take a month's leave of absence from work?” He paled at the question. She couldn't seem to suck down the rest of the words. They might choke her if she did. “Why does everyone ask if you're okay? What do you need to take pills for? You don't feel comfortable enough to tell me. That's where we are. That's okay. You don't have to reveal your diagnosis if you don't trust me. Let's just be honest that's where we stand. We're both holding shit back, tip-toeing around each other. And then you do this when I've told you the interview is important. How could I not be angry? Or feel hurt?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “Now this.”
She gripped her phone. “I don't even know what this is.”
“I know how I feel about you.” He paused taking in her face. “And from the look on your face so do you, but I haven't gone into detail about my illness because I know being with me is...no one deserves that kind of life. I want you...That's it. I want you, Sophie. Just you. I want you to feel the same.”
She stepped back. She'd started this fight, blind and scared but the expression on his face gut punched her. “What do you mean?”
“I'm bipolar, Sophie.” The words came out even, without emotion, but his eyes were filled with sadness. “That's why I take pills. That's why my brother and friends hover. About a year ago, I lost my fucking mind. I picked fights, got into one with Victor. I wouldn't let up. He had to beat me and I asked for it. Literally. You think I'm an ass now? Imagine me with no sleep, sixteen thousand cups of coffee and no filter, no awareness. I can't trust my own mind and it's the one thing I've always had.”
He stepped forward, not dropping his gaze from hers. “The rest of my life I will second-guess my moods, because they swing and they swing wide. I'll have hand tremors. Headaches I can't shake. Everything and anything because the side effects on my meds are novel-length. And one day, no matter how many safeguards are in place, I'm going to lose my mind again. The doctors say I probably won't. We caught my first episode in time. That's a hope I don't believe in.”
His words dug into her heart. “Wade...”
He closed his eyes and breathed through his nostrils. His hands were fisted at his sides. “My episodes will be ugly, because I don't get depressed. I get mean, and I'll say and do things that I'll— that'll hurt both of us. If you can't handle today, you can't handle me period. And frankly, no one should have to.”
Her knees weren't steady. “I would never think less of you, because you're bipolar.”
He opened his eyes, and turned. “The look on your face now—the fucking poor Wade expression is why I didn't.” He rolled his shoulders. “Now you have a damn good reason to walk. Take it.”
She went to touch him, comfort him and he shuffled away. Anger sparked again. “Who is the one running now?”
“You've had one foot out the door this whole time. Don't lie to me and say you didn't. I can see it every time you feel vulnerable with me. You're searching for the first exit.”
How could he bare his secret knowing she was looking for any excuse to protect her heart? “And you drop this on me as proof you're broken? That I should run?”
“That month I was out of work, I spent it in a mental hospital. I wore pants with no zippers and ate Jell-O with a spork. I went to group therapy, took every pill without question. I got visits from my brother and all my friends and every single one of them looked like they'd rather get ass fucked with spikes.”
How could his eyes be darker now? “They love you.”
“Yeah. So I'll be fine when you're gone.”
She straightened. “I won't leave you because of this.”
He stomped forward. “Because Poor Wade? His brain is fucked up. It's not his fault if fixates so hard he can't tell the difference between reality and whatever bullshit logic his brain served up? Poor Wade because he gets enraged and says every mean thing he's ever thought about.”
She put her hands to his chest. He was shaking, hurting—she could see the last so clearly. “Stop.”
Her phone rang thrilling out Footloose. Cal's ringtone. Wade's laugh sounded bitter. “And here Cal comes to the rescue. I know it's him.”
She shook her head. He wasn't going to use her friend as an out to this much needed conversation. “We're not done—”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “We are. Be woman enough to say this is what you wanted. Don't lie and say you didn't hope I did one thing, anything to give you an excuse.”
Sophie stepped forward, wanting to throttle him. “I didn't—”
“But you did,” he replied, his tone flat. “You were spoiling for a fight. Trust me, I know. Take your out with grace.”
Frustrated, she yelled, “Will you listen to me?”
He spread his hands as though to give her the floor, and Sophie...had nothing. Her mind still couldn't wrap around Wade telling her about his bipolar, now, like this. She'd expected a secret, for the other shoe to drop and it turned out to be an anvil. Where the hell to start?
Her phone continued to ring and it would at least once more before Cal would wait for her. And that was the problem.
She had an out, a backup plan whether or not she acknowledged the truth of that. Wade had laid his heart out, told her exactly how he could hurt her, and she couldn't work her mouth into saying everything was okay. She would love him no matter what. She'd lost her shit over an interview. How could she talk about love? She didn't know how to give it anymore.
Her eyes watered and disgust at herself tightened her throat. She was broken. She'd used work and ambition to hide the open wounds that had never healed.
“Jesus,” he cursed, “don't cry. Do anything but that.” He grabbed her coat and pulled her into him. That made it worse. He was comforting her, and she was a coward.
Wade scrubbed at the tears on her face. “Stop that shit.”
“Don't comfort me. Not when I—”
“Shhh.”
She closed her eyes and tried to stop. God. God. She was fucking broken, and even now he was taking care of her. Why couldn't she be brave? Why couldn't she take that as a sure sign he could be her safe place?
“Shh,” he said again, his voice a whisper as he cupped her face.
She forced herself to look at him. “Why are you being nice to me right now? I can't—”
“You won't,” since the conversation had started, anger finally leaked through his voice. “Be honest about that at least. If it wasn't today, it would be next week. Or when your boss finds out about us. Something would have come along and you would have taken it and run.”
Wade was right. She'd gone to his bed for a second time, promised him she'd stay, but the first time he brushed her soft spot, she'd flipped. She still wasn't ready.
Maybe he saw the last in her expression, because he dropped his hands, his jawline tight. “Answer your fucking phone.”
Her throat closed. “Give me time,” she rasped. “Can you do that?”
“You want me to wait until you decide if you will love me or not?” He scoffed. “No. Fuck, no. I'm not Cal.” He balled his hand in his coat. “And since the best you can do is ask for me to make the sacrifice, that's answer enough. I'll see you at the next event, Ms. Lake. Our last event,” he emphasized.
She flinched at the use of her last name, his tone. Her phone finally silenced, and Wade rubbed at his mouth, the lines around it furrowed.
“I would never leave you because you're sick,” Sophie said because he needed to hear it, believe it. “Never that.”
“I know.” The two words were hard. “You're just a coward.”
She pressed her fist to her heart. “Wade...I'm—I...” I'm scared.
“I'm not waiting for you to find something else wrong with me that's acceptable.” He shook his head, his mouth a hard line. “That's your shit. Not mine. That's where we truly stand, Sophie.”
What could she say? He'd stripped away everything but her fears as excuses. He laid out her broken pieces and told her to fix them. Her work, her armor, wasn't enough
.
The only thing that would make him stay were words that made her throat tight. Words that would leave her so vulnerable again. She couldn't utter them. And they both knew it.
“Are we done, Ms. Lake?”
She refused to answer. Another second passed before he scoffed. “Didn't think so,” he said.
He gave her his back, didn't pause at the door. He left her to deal with her own shit. She deserved nothing more for hurting him.
Footloose played again. She swallowed down a frustrated scream, and answered, “Not right now, Cal. Okay?”
She hung up. Why couldn't she say it? Three words were all she had to say and Wade would have given her time to let the rise of panic die down, to let the weight of dread pass. He'd dropped his secret down and left himself so vulnerable and she'd...She put a hand to her mouth to quiet the cry.
“Goddammit.”
Wade hadn't cared about her baggage until she started to force him to carry it. He hadn't wanted to give her his. And she'd broken them with her shit. She'd hurt him to save herself first. That dug into her heart and she couldn't hold back the tears.
CHAPTER
(½ log₂256)²
Wade took out his brother's house keys and then remembered the deal they'd come to months ago. He sighed then knocked. Hard. Being on his brother's doorstep was part of his rules. If he felt so overcome with any emotion that it blinded him, he'd go to his brother or his friends. Didn't mean he'd be good company. Sure as shit wouldn't be today.
The door swung open. Eva took one look at him and stepped back. He probably looked like he wanted to commit murder—not far from the truth either. It had taken everything not to drive to Sophie's and beat the shit out of Cal. Wade knew that prick was on the phone consoling Sophie.
Doing that though...well, she'd know he wasn't calm, wasn't nice, wasn't the kind of man she could trust.
“Wade, are you okay?”
Fuck no with a cherry on top. “Where's Grady?” he bit out.
“His car was acting up so I let him take mine. He had to meet with his advisor.” She pushed the door open. “Come in.”
He considered the invitation. Oliver had been on a deadline all week. Porter had gone to Oakland for a job. Victor had basically moved in with Ashley.
He didn't want to work and he shouldn't be alone. “Fine, but I'm not talking.”
“I'm surprised you've said this much.”
“Don't be cute.”
She smiled at him and that put a gleam in her brown eyes. Hell, she was cute and being mean to her was like being mean to Ashley—puppies. Everyone was in love with fucking puppies. He had to find the one barracuda.
“No,” he muttered. “She's a scorpion. They eat their mates after sex.”
Eva's brows went up and twisted in confusion. “This is you not talking? I should get you a beer.”
“I don't need a beer.” He strode to the glass door and went out to the back. Without effort, he grabbed the porch chairs and dragged them to the middle of the yard. He laid down then glanced up, and could breathe. He could see the sky from here.
The soft shuffle of steps almost made him growl. Eva headed him off by handing him a beer.
He sighed because she had one for herself. “Don't drink that.”
“You need them both?”
He considered the bet. “Yes.” He grabbed it out of her hand and put both down next to the chair. He wouldn't drink them. Not in his current state.
A smile spread—a knowing smile. “Wade, I know.”
Wary, he asked, “Know what?”
“Something's happened with Sophie.”
“Oh. That.” He opened one beer and poured it over the grass in case either of them got tempted. She watched him for a long moment, her brows furrowed.
“I saw the interview,” she said as though his behavior wasn't odd. Then again, she wasn't normal either. “I've never seen you talk about your work like that. I was really impressed.”
A deluge of words, ugly ones, wanted to fall out. He wanted to be left alone, knew he shouldn't. He inhaled, exhaled and tried. “You don't have to be kind to me.”
“You're right.” She tugged at her over-sized Cal State shirt. “I don't, and I'm not.”
They had an understanding. She wouldn't be. Eva was a woman, a smart one. If he asked her a question, she'd give him honesty back. “You didn't think I was too abrupt?”
“Oh, you were, but you didn't tell him to pull his head out of his ass. Or he could eat a dick. And I could tell you were really annoyed about the alien question.”
He had been. There were a million interesting things to ask about the known and, hell, the unknown universe and the man had asked about extraterrestrials. “That's the norm for me?”
She bit her lip. “Well...”
“Right.” He'd tried normal and had failed anyway.
She pointed to the beer bottle. “Are you going to drink that?”
“I'm not supposed to when I'm on edge.” And his nephew couldn't come out with an arm on his forehead, because Wade wanted to win a bet. So he picked up the second bottle and poured it on the grass. “You can't either when I'm like this. I get tempted.”
“Oh. Okay. Do you want to talk about what put you on edge?”
Hell, no. “I broke up with her.”
Eva plopped in the second chair he'd dragged out. “Okay.”
Pity filled her gaze. Poor crazy Wade. Poor smart Wade. Feel sad for him because he's never going to be fucking normal or kind or soft. He swung his feet into the chair and glared at the sky, trying to soothe away the edge. “I thought things would be different with her.”
“Different how?”
“I wouldn't have to be perfect.” But he'd set the tone by changing to make her happy. Should have known that wouldn't end well. It's what his parents had wanted. They wanted a child who would look to them as a guide, and not stare at them blankly at the age of five because they didn't know how to do simple math in their head.
But Sophie's eyes never glazed over when he talked about his work. Yes, he made the effort to tell her in simplistic terms. He hadn't been perfect, neither had she but they were perfect together and it still didn't fucking matter.
“She wanted me to be Cal.”
“Who?”
“Nothing more than a lap dog for her at this point. Just waiting around, pining for her until she had the balls to be in a relationship. What the fuck do I look like? Who the fuck does she think I am?”
Eva was silent at those questions. “I—I don't know what you mean.”
His insides curled at her expression. She was confused and trying to be supportive. Yeah. Those were the looks he got when he spent a month in the hospital. Everything he said made sense to him. No one else.
God. “I'm not having an episode.”
“I've kind of accepted your brain works faster than mine. I'll catch up eventually or pretend I'm smart enough to know you're making a quantum physics joke.”
Fucking puppy. “You're being nice. Stop it.”
“Would you like some water?”
“I want to stop talking.” He crossed his arms and tried to hold it all in. Words wouldn't fix his problem. He had all but given Sophie an ultimatum. “And why are you out here?” he threw at Eva.
“You brought me a seat. I thought it was an invitation.”
Fuck. Right. “I was being polite.”
“And once...you sat with me as we looked at the stars.”
He had. He'd been filled with the same impotent annoyance then too. “My brother needed you and you needed clarity.”
She didn't even blink when she said, “I hate being in your debt. I have nightmares you come to me to help you hide a body.”
He thought about Cal. By now the man was probably holding Sophie, telling her she was better off. “Tempted.”
She sighed, notching her chin. “Stop talking. Not another word or I'm going in the house and leaving you to rot in your own misery.”
W
ade smiled. “Better.”
“Thanks,” she said in a bright tone.
He grumbled at it.
Eva added, “But if you start crying I'm calling the Goon Squad.”
He grinned and looked up, searching for comfort and...something to plug the hole Sophie had dug in him. The misery still washed in and out like a wave and it was high tide. Did that make Sophie his moon? No. That was stupid, at best. Romantic, at worse. And she wanted him to orbit around her. Even then she wouldn't be satisfied. Her mistrust had nothing to do with what he'd done. She could love him, tell him all her secrets and she'd have to trust he wouldn't throw them back at her.
Hadn't I said I would?
Hadn't I assured her there would be a lifetime of pain, ugly deeds and uglier words?
Didn't I give her five seconds to adjust to the idea?
He pressed his palms to his eyes, and tried to breathe. Eva's voice was soft and low. “Do you love her, Wade?”
“No talking.”
“I take that as a yes.”
“Why?” he asked, refusing to raise his voice and scream like he wanted. “Why does it matter? It's not even real. It's an emotion we put a name to so we don't feel stupid when we do dumb things. Love is something we tell ourselves we feel so we can find mates and fuck until we die. We need to not be alone.”
“And still you love her.”
The misery washed in and out, and he closed his eyes. “This is why we don't talk when we look at the stars.”
She fell silent and it should have made him happy, but he could only look up and think of Sophie. He exhaled. “Is this how it was with Grady?”
“Worse. He broke up with me, and I didn't know how to fix it. When you brought Sophie by, I got to know her a little bit. So I'll say right now, she's feeling the same way.”
He could feel Eva's gaze on him. “Is that your way of making me feel better?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
Sophie was feeling exactly how he felt, just worst. He wasn't alone. “You can stay.”
He heard the rustle of movement. She'd gotten up and her smile was sad, like she knew how he felt. “Grady's here. I don't have to stay, and we both know he's better at this.”
Wade chewed on that, and sighed. “No. Stay. Otherwise he'll take all the credit for consoling me and be insufferable later.”