Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  Phoenix held my gaze for a few beats before grumbling and heading back toward his bedroom.

  Carrie emerged first, dressed down and still looking like she’d just crawled out of bed. She smiled sheepishly and ducked to the front door where she pulled on a pair of runners and found a coat in the closet.

  “I’ll see you later, baby,” she called to Phoenix. “Bye, Arden. See you at brunch later?”

  “Yeah.”

  She was a nice girl. I couldn’t understand what she saw in my brother, but that was beside the point.

  Phoenix returned a short time later wearing jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt. His rusty auburn hair was damp and less chaotic than before.

  “I’m making coffee, you want anything?”

  “No thanks.”

  Thankfully, the aroma of coffee wasn’t as triggering as other smells. I couldn’t drink it but didn’t have to avoid being in the same room as it either.

  “What do you want?” Phoenix called from the kitchen where he ran water and clamored through cupboards.

  “Ran into Iggy the other day.”

  Phoenix didn’t respond, so I waited. He returned to the living room a few minutes later with a steaming mug of coffee. It was then he noticed my stitched forehead and knew how I’d run into his once best friend.

  “So.”

  “I didn’t know you guys were still friends.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Why are you such a miserable dick? I’m making friendly conversation. Drink your coffee and relax.”

  Phoenix narrowed his eyes and sipped his drink before placing it on the table and leaning back on the other end of the couch where he’d planted himself.

  “Since when do you show up at my house at the ass-crack of dawn to make conversation? Get to the point.”

  “He said you two were friends still, yet he isn’t going to your wedding. Why?”

  “None of your business. Why do you care?”

  I shrugged and kept my chin high, not allowing Phoenix to bully me into submission like he’d done when we were kids. “Inquiring minds.”

  “Inquiring minds need to mind their own business.”

  “Yeah… I don’t really do that. Not sure you got the memo, but I’m not exactly the golden child. I like to get under people’s skin. So, why isn’t Iggy going to the wedding?”

  Phoenix pinched his lips together, his steel blue eyes searching for the real reason behind my question. Relenting, because I was too good at hiding behind false fronts, he huffed an irritated sigh, grabbed his coffee and drank before setting it down again.

  “Because he wouldn’t have been welcome, and I didn’t want the added drama.”

  “Added drama?”

  “Yeah, dipshit, you’ve caused enough trouble for one wedding, and I like Iggy, so I didn’t want him to have to deal with Mom and Dad’s shit, too.”

  I flinched, filtering through Phoenix’s words while I deduced what he meant. Then it dawned on me. My eyes widened, and my stomach swooped.

  “Iggy’s gay?”

  With a flat, unimpressed sneer, Phoenix retrieved his coffee from the table and drank.

  “How is that even possible?” Warmth flooded my veins and tingled through my blood. I guess that childhood crush really hadn’t died off. But, Jesus, was the universe on my side for a change? Iggy is gay?! All those fantasies. All those times I’d awkwardly intruded on him and Phoenix when they hung out just to get one of those knee-weakening smiles from him. Wow.

  “But… I don’t understand.”

  “You’re dense. How do you not understand? Isn’t this your territory? He’s gay. He likes dick.”

  “Yeah, but you hate me because I’m gay. Does your bigotry only involve family members? ‘Cause that’s kinda mean. I’m hurt.”

  “I don’t hate you because you’re gay!” Phoenix couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d slapped him.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Are you for real? You drive me crazy because you’re a selfish, self-absorbed little prick. You’ve got Mom and Dad swallowing every bullshit lie you feed them. ‘Oh, I’m depressed. Oh, I’m ugly. Oh, I’m anorexic. No one loves me.’ Wah, wah, wah. Then you come out and decide to use all that pre-established sympathy to rebel and do whatever you want. None of us could get away with the shit you do, but oh, it’s not Arden’s fault. Arden has been led astray, and we must pray for patience and guidance to help him see the right choices again. You’re an attention-seeking weasel. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re gay. I do give a fuck that you wield your gay card as a weapon, and no one seems to see it but me.”

  I tilted my head to the side and waited for him to finish his rant. When he fell silent and downed more coffee, eyes ablaze, I spoke. “I do love our little talks. None of my counselors have ever been so blunt with me, but thank you. That was refreshing. Are you finished?”

  “Fuck you, Arden. Did you seriously come here to ask me why Iggy wasn’t going to the wedding?”

  “Actually, yes. I think you should invite him. God is making an exception for me that day. He called Father Hammond, and they worked out some kind of deal. I’m allowed in church one time, and He promised not to turn me into a pile of ash. I’m sure Iggy will be safe too.”

  “See! That’s the shit I’m talking about. If Mom and Dad knew you talked like that, you’d get your ass handed to you.”

  I feigned interest in my nails and shrugged. “Yeah, probably. Does anyone even know he’s gay?”

  “Yes! Why do you think I haven’t brought him around the house or talked about him since high school? He came out in college. Mom and Dad found out and freaked. Dad completely went off on him. They told me not to hang out with him. Said all kinds of stuff you don’t want to hear, believe me. It was ugly.”

  Losing interest in my nails, I glared at Phoenix. The nice heat that had encompassed me when I’d learned about Iggy’s sexual orientation shifted and the tantalizing butterflies that had been swarming around inside my belly died and turned to ash.

  I knew my parents were only tongue-in-cheek accepting of my being gay. It had caused a huge riff in all our worlds when I’d come out a year ago. Their religion saw it as sinful, but their love for me trumped that notion—but only just barely. They couldn’t strum the courage to disown me or kick me out, so they’d turned their efforts into saving me instead.

  For a long time, they convinced themselves it was a phase. A rebellious thing along with my eating disorder. Their cruel words had been dampened for my benefit, but hearing how they’d spoken about Iggy made me sick.

  When I spoke, my voice croaked before solidifying. “Yeah, well, they have to be better about it now because I’m gay. So, invite Iggy to the wedding. He was your best friend for a long time. That’s not fair. Mom and Dad won’t say anything. They can’t without hurting me in the process, and they try hard not to do that.”

  “Why does this matter to you?”

  Because I was totally in love with him for years and when I saw him this week I almost crawled into his lap and told him.

  I bit my tongue.

  Phoenix studied me, his intent gaze threatening to dig under my protective layers and see what I wasn’t saying. I shifted and worked at appearing nonchalant and uncaring.

  “It’s your wedding, Phoenix. Don’t you want your best friend there?”

  “Iggy and I talked about it. We already decided—” Something in Phoenix’s eyes changed. Realization flooded to the surface and he jumped off the couch when it dawned on him. I looked away, hoping to hide the truth, but it was too late. “No! No fucking way!” He shoved my shoulder so he could glare directly at my face. “That can’t happen, Arden. Mom and Dad would kill me. Are you serious? Do you— You have a crush on him?”

  I didn’t let Phoenix intimidate me. I fluttered my eyelashes and shrugged. “I really thought it would have gone away by now, but then I ran into him the other day and it turned out it was as fresh as ever. He grew up nicely, if you know what
I mean. You have one seriously hot friend. Now, did I hear he’s gay?"

  “No! No, no, no! Do you hear me? No!”

  “I’m not ten years old anymore. Who I fuck and who I don’t isn’t really any of your business. I just want to see him again. Talk to him without the remnants of a concussion eating my brain. Who knows, maybe all those fantasies—”

  “Stop! Jesus, what is wrong with you? I’m not inviting him to the wedding. Plain and simple. No! Iggy is a good guy, and even if I thought you’d be good for him—which you aren’t—I’d never encourage this. Mom and Dad would bury me. I’d be the one who encouraged you to walk on the dark side. Fuck. No!”

  I couldn’t help it. Pulling up my best Darth Vader voice, I said, “Luke, I am your father.” Then I snorted. “When did being gay have anything to do with Star Wars and the dark side?”

  Phoenix’s gaze darkened and he looked set to launch himself at me, so I rolled my eyes and dropped the joke.

  Sighing, I stood from the couch. Phoenix still dwarfed my smaller frame, and he used it to his advantage. Intimidation at its finest. Of all my siblings, I never had a chance when it came to bulking up. My premature birth had made sure of that. Eleven-year-old Baxter was already giving me a run for my money and Forest would catch up soon enough. Phoenix cleared six feet easily, but I didn’t let his height and build threaten me.

  I matched his stance, crossing my arms over my chest and pinned him with enough contempt it brought out his worst sneer. It was too easy to dig under his skin.

  “I really didn’t want to have to do this, Phoenix, but do Mom and Dad know you’re fucking your fiancée before the wedding? I mean, you and Carrie have been fucking for what? Three years now? And she’s not pregnant, either, so I’m gonna guess that you use condoms or some other form of birth control. That’s two dings right there in the big bad rule book of ‘How to be a Good Little Catholic Boy.’ Big dings in Mom and Dad’s world. Huge—"

  Phoenix’s lip curled, but I caught a hint of concern flicker through his eyes. Being the oldest, Phoenix bent over backward to keep up appearances of being the good son, the rule follower, the one we should all strive to be like. “What do you want, asshole?”

  “Invite your best friend to the wedding. I really would like to catch up with him. Especially since we have something in common.”

  Phoenix hesitated. With a growl, he messed a hand over his hair and spun, snapping his empty coffee mug from the table before pointing a finger in my face.

  “Do not blackmail me, you punk.”

  I didn’t move or react. Looking past the accusing finger, I held my brother’s gaze. I absolutely would make his life miserable, and he knew it. “I double dog dare ya to try me on this.”

  Phoenix growled. “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk to Iggy. But do not cause a scene at my wedding. I’m begging you.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  A smug smile would have topped the moment off just right, but I held it back self-consciously. “I’ll let you get back to your day.”

  “Do not tell Mom that Carrie stays here. Arden, I’m serious.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, big brother. See you at brunch later.”

  I found my coat and shrugged it on. Before I could leave, Phoenix’s voice cut through the tension in the room. The concern lacing his tone caught my attention, and I glanced back.

  “Iggy is a good guy. Please don’t fuck with him. He’s… been through a lot these past few years. Someone like you could really mess him up.”

  I considered his words, gave him a salute—which failed at reassurance based on the pained expression that crossed Phoenix’s face—and I left.

  Chapter Four

  Iggy

  “Unit 18, respond. We have a code 2 at 4508 College Avenue, north entrance. Twenty-one-year-old female, seizure activity, possible head injury. Timeout 1635.”

  “Noooo!” Mickey wailed, dropping his head onto the steering wheel theatrically. “Always when we are at T-minus thirty minutes on shift. I swear, dude. Every. Single. Time.”

  I chuckled and snapped the radio off the console. “That’s the college again.”

  Once Mickey revved the rig to life, I tapped the button to respond. “Dispatch, this is Unit 18 responding. Copy that, we are en route. Do you have a location within the building? Out.”

  “Unit 18, your location is the cafeteria. Out.”

  “Copy.”

  Mickey was already taking us down a backroad to avoid heavier traffic. We bumped over the uneven ground with the lights flashing overhead—no sirens since it was code two. Cars pulled over and allowed us passage as we zipped by at speeds slightly over the posted limits.

  “Never fails, man. The minute we are zeroing in on the end of the day, we get called.”

  “You got plans tonight?”

  “Nah, just bitchin’ for the sake of bitchin’. You?”

  I chuckled as Mickey took us through a cleared intersection and onto campus grounds. “Yeah, visiting Ma. Gonna cook something nice and take it over to her. Keep her company for a while.”

  “We’re sad, dude, you know that? It’s Friday-fucking-night, and I’m gonna curl up and watch TV, and you’re visiting your mother. Wow. I’m embarrassed to know us. Who are we?”

  Chuckling, I shed my coat and tossed it behind my seat. “So go out. You don’t have to stay at home. No one is making you.”

  “Alone? No. Come with me.”

  I hesitated, knowing any normal twenty-nine-year-old single guy did things like that. But the pressure of responsibility won out. “I can’t. I really need to see Ma. We’ve been working our tails off the last two weeks. Overtime is killing me, and I can’t keep putting it off. She’s all by herself. I worry about her.”

  “I know. Another night maybe? We’re both gonna die single at this rate. We’re married to our damn job, and that’s fucked up. I said I’d never be that person.”

  Mickey swung into an emergency parking space up front of the north entrance of Dewhurst College and flew into action, abruptly ending our conversation while I snagged the radio.

  “Dispatch, this is Unit 18. We are on location. Timeout 1642.”

  “Copy.”

  Mickey and I had worked together for two years and had developed a solid routine for calls.

  Once I exited the rig, I found him in the back, piling equipment bags onto the stretcher he’d already slid out the doors. He jumped down again, tossed me supplies to carry, and we were off.

  By the time we made it to the cafeteria, our seizure victim was sitting up, wiping a hand down her face. She’d gathered a crowd, but when they saw us arrive, they scattered, making room for our approach.

  I squatted down to make an assessment and ensured to keep my voice soft so the young woman wouldn’t startle.

  “Hey, miss. I’m Iggy Rojas. I’m a paramedic with County General. How are you feeling? I hear you had a seizure.”

  The young woman peered up, blinking and shifting her gaze about, her warm brown skin, blotchy and pale in places, her eyes foggy of understanding.

  “She has epilepsy,” the girl beside her explained.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” I touched her leg gently to draw her attention.

  Our seizure victim pushed dark hair from her face and studied me with an edge of puzzlement. Wincing, she rubbed her neck. “It’s Felicia.”

  Mickey crouched beside her and worked silently, taking vitals as I kept her talking.

  “How long did the seizure last?” I asked.

  “About five or six minutes,” her friend stated with a shrug. “I didn’t keep a close watch on the time.”

  “That’s okay. Does anything hurt right now, Felicia? I was told you might have knocked your head during your seizure.”

  “My neck is stiff. And here.” She prodded an area on the back of her head and winced again. “I have a lump.”

  “She fell backward,” her friend added.

  I accepted gloves from Mickey and tugged them o
n. “Is it okay if I give your head a look-see?”

  She nodded and clasped hands with her friend.

  As I checked her over, I reported my findings to Mickey who typed them onto our tablet while he worked through his own jobs.

  “Do you take medication for your epilepsy, Felicia?”

  “Yeah, but I just had a change recently because I was having more seizures. It probably hasn’t taken full effect yet. Adjustments to meds take time. I’ve been dealing with this for a lot of years.”

  “I understand. Can you hold your hands up and wiggle your fingers for me?” She followed my instructions. “Any tingling?”

  “No.”

  “Good.

  She copied and listened as I asked her to perform other minor tasks while I assessed for possible injuries from her fall.

  “Do I have to go to the hospital?” she asked.

  “That’s up to you. You’re conscious and alert right now. You can deny transport if you’d like. It is your right. People do that sometimes. I would recommend being checked by a doctor because you knocked your head and lost consciousness for a short time, but I certainly can’t force you.”

  “Felicia, go,” her friend urged.

  “Can’t Becca just drive me? Do I have to ride with you?”

  I gave Felicia a practiced smile. “If that’s what you want. It’s your choice.”

  She consulted with her friend, and they communicated without words. I knew without looking that Mickey was having himself a mini-celebration since we wouldn’t have to do a scrub down on the rig and could probably leave work on time tonight.

  “Becca will take me,” Felicia explained. “Thank you for coming, though.”

  I helped her back onto her feet and ensured her friend was okay with that responsibility. Mickey brought the tablet over and walked Felicia through signing a few legal documents that cleared us of responsibility, and we were done.

  Mickey was pumped to get going and dragged the stretcher without help toward the doors that led to the hall where we’d come in. As I crossed the cafeteria, my gaze caught on a familiar face at a far table, and my footsteps faltered.