Adrenaline: An Ode to Love and Heartbreak

by Sunniva Dee

  “Let’s go,” Arriane says, voice resolute. “There’s a mountain pass down there to get into the ravine. Have you been?”

  I shake my head no.

  “We have a better shot at finding him from that end, I think. Unless you’d like to take the trail,” she throws out last minute.

  In the car on the way down, I say, “He’s so stupid.”

  “Yeah. You are too,” my friend tells me.

  “Nu-huh, I don’t go jumping off shit when I’m mad.”

  “Right, you just push away people you love.”

  “Geez, Arria.”

  I glare at her, but she just shoots me one of her wise glances before focusing on the road again. “Text Leon for me? Tell him where we are.”

  She finds the parking lot in five minutes flat, and my thoughts flap like light-crazed moths as we run through the rain. If Cameron is hurt, he’ll be in so much trouble. Also, he better not have gone too far up the trail because he needs to be within eyesight. My eyesight. I need to find him.

  What if he is hurt? Really hurt?

  Soggy leaves and dirt welcome us onto the uneven floor of this strange valley. A brook coils through it, streaming, climbing, avoiding each obstacle.

  Initially, I don’t see a good place for anyone to land, and my knees weaken with fear. Where the hell is he? Shouldn’t he be close to where he plunged from? Then, I make out a plateau of sorts deep inside the ravine.

  Arria points before I can speak. “Do you see something red? Does Cameron wear red clothing when he jumps?”

  I’ve never witnessed Cam base jump, but his tent of an outfit goes with him everywhere in the back of the car. “Yes, he does. His wingsuit is red.”

  We sprint. Slide on clay and run until we’re there. I can’t seize him fast enough. When I do, he’s—

  “No!”

  He’s sodden face down arms spread like he’s flying and this is not good so not good and how long has he been here and how is he—

  “Dead!” I yell to Arria then, “Cameron, I love you! Enough already! Get your shit together!”

  “Sweetie, he’s alive.” Arria’s voice is the softest to ever seep into my bones—cotton, honey, silk, and sugar—but I’m dying too and don’t hear all the words. Something about the parachute deployed, see? Look, Inga, look. It’s a good thing.

  My fingers tremble as they fight the ropes and fabric trapping him. There’s so, so much of it. Then, more words, He’s breathing, Inga. Don’t worry, shhh.

  I have no idea how shit works. I rip until something gives and he’s free.

  “Leon, we found him. He’s unconscious,” Arria murmurs into her phone, turning her face from me. “Yep, in the ravine. No, we don’t know yet. We need to get him out of here. Should I call 911?”

  She clutches her cell with her cheek, helping me when I fight to hoist Cameron onto my lap: “Okay. Cool, yes, baby. I don’t think we can do this alone.”

  “Leon’s coming, Inga,” she murmurs, violet gaze resting on me. “He’ll make it here faster on his bike than the ambulance will.”

  “Yeah,” I manage.

  Eyes closed and mouth slack, Cameron is immobile in my lap. Rocking his quiet body makes me feel better. The entire left side of his face swells with bruises up past his temple. “What were you thinking?” I whisper, and thoughts buried beneath my heartache from Bo, from Petie’s death, and even deeper, below Cameron’s sleeping with other women, shoot to the surface.

  “Threesomes are difficult enough to stomach, Cam, but I really can’t be with someone who puts their life at stake for an adrenaline rush all the fucking time.” If he hears me, I hope he understands how serious I am. “No one would be crazy enough to stick with you, dick. You leave a girl on the verge of losing you every damn time you as much as look at that squirrel suit.”

  Cameron’s eyes don’t glide open until Leon arrives on his motorcycle, but recognition shines in his gaze when he sees me holding him.

  “Hey, Kitty,” Cameron murmurs, pitch hoarse.

  “Screw you. You scared the hell out of us!” I shout.

  He smiles, lips pale with exhaustion. “Sorry… it was epic. I landed fine but slid and fell. The ravine floor’s slippery in the rain.” The dork takes a moment to laugh at himself. “I hit my temple on a rock, I think.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Can you move?” Arria asks.

  Cameron tries to sit up and turns a light shade of green. His stomach contracts under my hand, and as he swings his head past my knees, he starts to throw up.

  “Jesus. You have a concussion again?” I ask.

  “Terrible headache,” he confirms between the bouts. “Plus I had McShit for breakfast.” My own tummy stirs at the thought.

  Arriane gets up and runs to meet Leon.

  “Careful!” Leon roars, and on cue, Arria almost falls. It’s a miracle we stayed on our feet on the way here.

  “Do. Not. Run.” This is no-bullshit Leon hurling out not-to-be-neglected commands.

  “Right,” she puffs, instantly accepting his response and letting him race to her instead of proceeding herself. Yep, my friend stands still, complacent, so not being Arria.

  Once close, Leon links an arm over her shoulder and around her waist, pulling her into him in an overly protective manner. I’ve seen this behavior before from them. At the moment, I can’t celebrate what their interaction must mean.

  The skies keep leaking, but the hardcore pelting has ceased. I wipe Cam’s mouth with rotten leaves, which makes him gag—and in turn causes him to laugh. He has the craziest sense of humor.

  “You’re awful,” I whisper to him. Stop myself from bending to kiss his bruised face. “You’re seriously messed up. Don’t do crap like this.”

  Today his eyes are bright. And when he lifts them to stare into mine, they seem to glitter. “No more flying is your vote?” His voice is gruff. Sweet. Ah, so—

  “Yeah.” I swallow hard. “No more flying.”

  Cameron thinks he has nine lives. He squeezed through this time too, except not by his doing. At the hospital, they decide to keep him overnight. To say the least, young Cameron Falck is not having it, but the nurse is hardcore. Man, does she know how to put silly boys in their place. I stay with him through the X-rays and the MRI. Then, I leave him with his troop of health personnel and strict rules.

  Smother provides enough customers to keep the hours flowing despite the sadness crouching on my shoulders. Toward the end of the night, Jason tells me “a Bo something” called for me. Now, I feel bad. I’ve been so busy with Cam’s situation I haven’t thought about him. He must have tried me a lot.

  They say blood is thicker than water. In the case of Bo, I’d define him blood more than water even though we’re not related. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. I vow to give him a call in the morning.

  I wake up late to the doorbell buzzing. Thinking it’s Arriane, I slip my robe on and drag my feet to the entrance.

  It’s Bo. Unannounced like this at my door, he still holds the power to extract the air from my lungs. “What in the world?” I gasp.

  “Are you okay? You scared me shitless.” He has his acoustic guitar on his back and a small backpack.

  “I—you just jumped on a plane? That’s freaking expensive,” I ramble.

  “Because I can’t let anything happen to you. You know that.”

  I do.

  I inhale the air I just lost, and with it everything that transpired yesterday. An overload of adrenaline seizes my body and makes it quiver. The tears…

  “Inga. Come here,” he murmurs. Cups my neck and pulls me close. I lean in against the collar of his jacket, nestling my nose into the familiar scent of his throat. There’s something so vulnerable about a throat. The softness of the skin, the warmth. It’s so intimate.

  My body doesn’t know what my brain does, that Bo and I will never again be what we were and do what we did. He holds me in the doorway, comforting me.

  “Maybe we should go in?”
he suggests, and my mouth tugs in a tick as I nod. With Bo here, I force myself to take a shower and put on makeup. In the mirror, darkness still gleams back at me from my eyes.

  At the coffee shop around the corner, I pick at over-medium eggs and toast. Focusing on me, Bo chews his food slowly like he always does, assessing me. “So,” he says finally.

  I look up to meet his wintery gaze.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I feel like crap. Like I’ve been dumped all over and dragged through the mud.”

  Bo doesn’t laugh at my expressions. Never did. I think of how Cameron finds everything I say funny or cute.

  “Why did he have to ruin things?” I take a big sip of water to choke the tears. Bo’s hand goes up and closes around mine on the glass.

  “Inga, that threesome? I’d understand if you guys were dating already, but you weren’t. You were probably sleeping with me at the very same time he did his thing.” Bo says it like it’s commonplace, and our waitress flicks a discrete glance at my beautiful ex while she tops off our coffees. I hope she doesn’t know Swedish.

  “You don’t understand. There’s no way I can trust him again.”

  Bo sighs. Skids a hand up under his bangs and ruffles carelessly. “Inga, I don’t know this Cameron, and I can’t predict how things will go between you, but I haven’t seen you like this over anyone besides me before.”

  “Yeah.” My lip wobbles.

  He drops my hand to set two fingers over the bridge of his nose. It’s what he does when he’s about to say something uncomfortable, and I’m not sure I’m up for it today. Or tomorrow. Or any day soon.

  “Ingela,” he says anyway, not catching my vibe. Makes me meet his stare over the table. “Did you trust me again after each of our breakups?”

  “Really? You’re going there?” I jail my mouth with fanned fingers, sinking onto my elbows on the tabletop.

  “Yeah, and the guy better be worth that I’m doing this.” He smiles a rueful smile and tips his chin up. “Did you fear that I’d be sleeping around whenever you and I were dating?” he asks.

  “No. Never.”

  “So why with Cameron? Does he have a reputation?”

  “I’m the first girl he’s ever actually been exclusive with.”

  Bo frowns, squinting. “How old’s this guy? Fourteen?” That gets a laugh out of me, and Bo’s eyes brighten.

  “Nah, he’s my age. A couple of months younger.”

  “Cradle robber.” He winks, that mischievous tilt of his lip getting me like always.

  “His reputation is that before him and me, he slept with everyone in his path.”

  “And you think he still does?”

  All these questions. They force me to analyze the situation instead of going off of instinct and emotions. I don’t like this. It’s uncomfortable. I feel irrational. Because no, I’m not afraid that Cameron would choose someone else while he’s with me. I really am not.

  “Maybe.” I puff out a breath and grab a sugar. Pour it into the coffee as Bo watches. “Okay, fine: no,” I admit.

  “So you’re simply upset about his past?”

  “Why do you always do this?” I ask. “You always rationalize things until I feel stupid.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not trying to make you—”

  “Well, you’re just too damn good at it, then. Whatever. Cameron’s not exactly a catch either. He’s got a total death wish, Bo. Do you know what he did yesterday?”

  “Not until you tell me.”

  “After I sort of broke up with him, he took off to the mountain, here”—I wave randomly out the window—“and threw himself into a ravine. He’s at the hospital.”

  It takes a lot to surprise Bo. Now, I’ve managed. “He survived?” is his first question, and the extent of how yesterday could have ended brings my tears out.

  I can’t speak. I’m deep in my hands bawling my eyes out, and Bo gets up, rounds the table, and scoots in next to me. He folds me in like times before and kisses the top of my head. “There, there. Shhh.”

  “He’s a base jumper. An extreme-sport freak. He’ll never stop doing that shit, and yesterday he did it because he was upset.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, it was only a concussion. Damn lucky he is.”

  Bo says nothing more, just holds me and strokes my hair, and I think that I’m back right where I was months ago—

  In my ex’s arms.

  Ripped open by heartbreak.

  Hospital visits are expensive. Even with insurance, these people rob you blind. Thank God Leon brought me here instead of the ambulance. It’s like you pay for the entire ambulance by using their stretcher. Been there, done that.

  I’m getting ready to leave. I can’t lie around being woken up every five seconds by some frumpy old nurse. If things are going to be dire, at least the hospital should require the nurses to be da-bomb gorgeous.

  I had a good long talk with the latest doctor on duty. I solemnly swore to sit in the dark for two weeks straight and not read or, hey, breathe—whatever she said I jumped right on. I wouldn’t plunge from mountaintops and certainly not bungee jump. Even snowboarding was out of the question, she reminded me, only because fucking Marek came to rat me out. Dude vomited off some seriously incriminating info. FBI next. Goddamn that guy.

  I hitched a ride home with him, though. I’m stoked to be out, and Inga’s reaction yesterday gave me hope too. She went out of her way to find me and wasn’t even pissed. Well, pissed about my jumping—I could tell how much she wanted to hit me—but she didn’t even mention the threesome.

  “I’m gonna get her back. Pretty sure she loves me,” I inform Marek in the car.

  “Oh yeah. Boring complications in Cam’s Loveland,” Marek sighs out, “You used to be cool.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck yourself.”

  I snicker. Marek punches my shoulder, and I moan, wuss-style.

  At the dorm, I plan my day while showering. Afterward, I need to lie down again. My damn head isn’t having any plans. Think I’ll pop some ibuprofen and take a quick nap.

  Ingela hasn’t called me today. I wonder what she’s up to. Sleeping in or studying? It’s past two p.m., and I should get ready for my early shift at Smother. She isn’t working tonight as far as I remember. There are a few weeks left until finals and crunch time.

  I text her but receive no reply. I give her a courtesy buzz, which she doesn’t respond to either. Before I take that nap, I type, Stop harassing me. I’m trying to sleep here.

  Then, I pass out.

  Dan’s back from wherever when I wake up. Or when he wakes me up. Holy crap, I’m so ready to paint the toilet bowl with my guts. “Gimme a break, asshole,” I grunt while dry-heaving, but he’s not interested in my objections.

  After that, shit keeps getting more and more uncomfortable. Turns out staying here is no better than the hospital. Because suddenly I’ve got two (inexperienced) male nurses. One with a scraggly beard that’s growing in—yeah, Dan—and another dingo-skinny one who’s just obnoxious—Marek. Their mission in life is to keep me awake.

  I’m never getting another concussion.

  Whenever I visit, Cameron is asleep. Yes, fate rides shotgun with me, strangely on my side.

  He’s pale. He’s haggard. He doesn’t brim with joy and life. Even passed out, Cam is marred by pain that carves into his features.

  It kills me to see him this way. I want to hold him. Comfort him. The way I did in the ravine and so much more.

  Dan steps outside while I am with Cam, but I always ask him to remain close. I can’t handle it if Cameron wakes up—I’m just not sure how long my resolve would last.

  See, in matters of love, I never was a cautious girl, and it’s hard for me to fight this, to stay true to my promise of never again allowing a man to rule my moods.

  “You look a little better today,” Arriane tells me four days later. Like the total mom she is, she brought me chicken soup. Fucking d
elicious too. The guys aren’t very inventive, and damn was I getting sick of Chinese.

  “Wish I could say the same about your room,” she continues. “It looks like a bomb went off in here. What’s with all the fast-food boxes? Is that all you’ve been eating?”

  I nod slowly on the pillow. “God, it’s so gross.”

  “Dude was too busy rolling his eyes in his head to come up with alternatives,” Dan says. “Oh, and barfing crap up. Who cares what he eats if he’s only going to hurl anyway.” He shrugs and swings back to the mirror. Dan is grooming his scraggle-face. Weirdo.

  “How’s Inga?” I inquire on a sigh. Arriane has been by several times, but never Inga. “Does she ask about me?”

  “Yeah,” Arriane says, hesitating. She starts rubbing her fingers nervously in her lap. I don’t like the look of that.

  “What’s going on? Something up with her?”

  “No, she’s better.”

  “Better than when, Arria? Than when she lost it over the stupid threesome?” Arriane needs to talk, because if Inga is better, then how come she doesn’t look happy about it?

  She glances longingly at the door.

  “I’m heading over there,” I decide, tip forward on the edge of the bed, brave a rush of vertigo, and get up. I grab my pants, which have been on the floor since I returned from the hospital.

  “No, Cameron.”

  “What? Why the hell not? She doesn’t call me, hasn’t visited, and—”

  “She’s been here every day, Cam, only you haven’t spent much time awake.”

  “Well I’m awake now, and all the more reason to go to her place!”

  Dan grunts something about pussy drama and takes off.

  “No, Cam, I mean it. You… Her—”

  “What?” I snap, getting dressed.

  “Inga’s ex is in town.”

  My mind—my fucking heart—screeches to an absolute dead stop. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Ah, no. He called to check on her after the two of you had that fight, she had a breakdown, and when she hung up on him and never answered again, he came to make her feel better.”