Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  When he talked about his ideas, he came to life in a way I’d never seen. Even in the low light of the parking lot, his pale blue eyes took on a special gleam. A few times, I almost caught him smiling, but he either shifted his head to the side to block it or covered his mouth with a hand or his cup.

  The more he denied me, the stronger the urge grew to simply clasp his wrists and hold his hands down just so I could witness one.

  “My boss at Ever After lets me use the studio in the back of the store. She lets me create with any leftover materials we have laying around. She thinks I have talent. I’m working on a design right now in my spare time. It’s for the annual fall fashion show. It’s nothing more than sketches at this point. Top secret, but I'm really excited how it’s turning out. My ideas are all coming together. I’m going to ask Bryn to model it for me.”

  “What is it? Tell me. My lips are sealed.”

  Again, he ducked his head and laughed, blocking his face so I couldn’t see. The gentle cadence of his voice was soft and almost musical. It struck a chord in my heart and held me in its grasp until the note died off into the night.

  I swung a foot again, tapping his side playfully. “Stop hiding from me. I want to see your smile.”

  He laughed harder but tipped off balance as he tried to spin away which made him trip over his feet again and almost crash to the ground. “Oh shit!” His arms pinwheeled, sending his drink splashing everywhere. “I’m really tipsy now. Look what you’ve done.”

  “Me?! You’re the one slamming straight vodka on an empty stomach.”

  I laughed with him and slipped off the hood of the car, removed the cup from his hand, and set it aside before catching his arm when he listed sideways again. With a gentle tug, I swung him back toward me.

  He crashed against my chest before finding his feet, burying his face in my shirt in hysterics. Our laughter calmed, and only then did Arden peer up and meet my gaze.

  Lavender and sunshine surrounded me.

  Only a faint shadow of a smile remained, quirking the right corner of his mouth. Glassy blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He was so close, and I couldn’t help studying the sharp lines of his face before zeroing in on his damp, full lips as they puffed vodka tinted breath into the night.

  The world faded away for a moment, and all I could focus on was Arden and the pull tugging us closer.

  Shaking free of his hold before I did something stupid, I yanked my phone from my pocket to check the time.

  “It’s after midnight. You know, they probably have a buffet set up. Do you want me to go fill a plate with some snacks for you? It might help with that buzz you’ve got going on.”

  Arden widened his stance to keep his balance, keeping one hand wrapped around my shirt as he scanned the parking lot. A flash of unease crossed his face. It was brief and gone before I could figure out why.

  “Nah, why wreck it?”

  Glassy and showing his intoxication, his shimmering blue eyes found my face again. His features changed, mischief brewed, and the air around us thickened. My skin tingled as I studied the open expression of want on his face. Arden hid nothing at that moment. Unmistakable yearning kindled between us. Something I’d been fighting to avoid all night. Denying its existence, if I was honest. It was evident and raw on both sides like a thread connecting us, pulling us closer and binding us together. Only then did I realize I’d moved my hand to his waist.

  To keep him balanced, I told myself.

  Our proximity shrunk, but I didn’t know who’d stepped closer. The alcohol cushioned my reasoning, and it was harder and harder to not stare at this kid who was no longer a kid. Harder not to notice his delicate lips, the faint, almost invisible freckles that graced the bridge of his nose, the ghosting, alcohol-tinted breath hitting my chin and lips every time he exhaled.

  My skin came alive with need.

  How did we get this close?

  Fumbling, I went to back up, but Arden’s fist in my shirt tightened, keeping me in place. He swayed as he closed our gap even more.

  “Woah,” I whispered.

  I clutched his waist with both hands thinking he was stumbling but realized too late, the move was completely on purpose. Arden fell onto my mouth, his vodka-laced lips and tongue stealing my breath.

  My reaction was delayed by the shock of it, and I froze, stunned at the course of our evening and how we’d ended up lip-locked in a dark parking lot. Two shunned souls just trying to enjoy a celebration where we weren’t wanted.

  Whether the reasoning center of my brain was simply too intoxicated to care or I’d been lying to myself about wanting him all night, I didn’t know. All I knew was, I stepped closer instead of pulling back. I took the kiss instead of denying it. I acknowledged the way my entire body came alive.

  Arden’s nose was cold against me, his fingers chilled through my thin dress shirt, but our kiss was full of fire and want. Our tongues tested, teased, then tangoed as we stole each other’s next breath.

  And I clung, pulling Arden off balance so he landed against my chest, wrapped arms around him and fell back against the car, never breaking our connection. I cupped his face, kissed deeper, and swallowed a small moan when it crept up his throat.

  It was probably the most honest sound I’d heard from him all night, and I took it, claimed it, owned it, and craved more.

  …Until the steel door at the back of the hall slammed open, and we flew apart, both stumbling with intoxication and guilt.

  Petrified, we both remained still as we watched the smokers take their time, chatting, puffing, and thankfully oblivious to the two men hiding in the parking lot.

  My heart slammed, my extremities tingled, need pulsed through my veins, but overshadowing it all was the sense of right and wrong and a realization that of all people, Arden was the last person I should be doing this with.

  When the smokers returned inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. In the pit of my stomach a cold, ugly feeling reminded me of just how awful it was to have to hide something as simple as a kiss because we were two men. Ten years I’d been out and there I was, hiding and ashamed because the McMillan clan saw being gay as sinful.

  I didn’t have time to contemplate that acrid emotion. Arden returned into my space, peered up with his intentions written clearly across his face.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  He smoothed his fingers over my short, buzzed hair, licking teasingly at his lower lip. My blood raced and burned through my whole system, but I knew, I knew, I couldn’t pursue this with him. As much as I wanted to, as good as it felt, as tipsy as I was, nothing good would come of it.

  “You shouldn’t really bail on your brother’s wedding.”

  “I’m sure my family thinks I’ve bailed anyhow. Come on. I wanna continue where we left off but somewhere a little more private.”

  I smiled and ducked my head, hating what I needed to do. “I’m flattered, Arden, but—”

  “But you don’t do the hookup thing, do you?”

  “No.”

  “And getting involved with a McMillan is a recipe for disaster.”

  “I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to you.”

  “Nah, I get it. You’re right. Could I…” He tipped his chin higher, seeking, searching, begging with those eyes. “Maybe… Just one more…”

  How could I say no when every fiber of my being screamed yes.

  We came together with the sure connection of two magnets seeking their opposite pole. No hesitation. Solid. Perfect. Complete.

  Like it was meant to be.

  Our mouths fused as we breathed each other in, stole tastes and sampled what we knew would be short-lived. Alcohol dampened my resistance, and I nearly changed my mind. We could go to my apartment, a hotel, the back of my car. I could strip him naked and explore the mysteries that were hidden behind this tightly vaulted man.

  And God did I ever want to.

  But he was a McMillan, and I’d had a small taste of that pleasure ten years ago. That st
ain would never wash away. And the residual hurt lingered every day.

  Reluctantly ending our kiss, I stared down at those stunning blue eyes, fascinated by the hint of color gracing Arden’s once pale lips.

  I would mourn the loss of that mouth later, and probably regret my decision for the rest of my life, but I backed him up and took his hands. The chill in his fingers reminded me how he’d been so cold earlier.

  “Go inside and warm up. Eat something. I’m gonna get a cab and go home. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

  He frowned, and the sadness and hurt radiating off him stung. I reached out, intent on running my thumb along his left cheek but he shrugged me away the minute I connected. He rubbed that side of his face with a sour nose turn, and shifted away, facing the building.

  “It was good to see you again, Iggy. Take care. Thanks for coming.”

  Then he was gone, along with that floral sunshine scent. The steel door slammed, marking the end of our stolen night together and leaving something empty and unnamed in the pit of my stomach.

  Chapter Six

  Arden

  My fingers trembled as I punched numbers into the calculator app on my phone. I’d sat at the kitchen table ten minutes ago because leaning against the counter had taken too much energy, and the world spun, threatening to tip me off balance. I was feeling extra weak today. Tired. Shaky.

  It was bad.

  I fished another cracker from the sleeve, checked it, then nibbled while clearing the reading on the screen and starting again.

  One sleeve of crackers—if I could manage the whole thing—plus one apple—minus the skin—plus two pieces of toast with margarine equaled just over seven hundred calories. Add the pack of ramen I planned to eat later at work and I still didn’t hit a thousand.

  It wasn’t enough. It was never enough lately.

  There were exactly five things in my repertoire of foods that I could eat any more. Five. That was down another three items since this time last year and eight since the ground was torn out from underneath me when I was fourteen.

  Five items.

  Saltine crackers, apples, white bread with a bit of margarine, ramen noodles, and peanut butter. And one of those things was falling off my list in recent months, and I couldn’t seem to convince my brain to shut the fuck up.

  I’d lost so many options over the past few years simply because of my incessant need to Google everything. Knowledge, in this case, was not my friend.

  At this rate, I’d die anyway, and I couldn’t fucking stop it.

  Getting no better results after typing in the same numbers over and over again, I shut down my phone and picked another cracker from the sleeve just as the front door slammed open and a burst of voices traveled down the hall and into the kitchen.

  So much for peace and quiet.

  I collected my cooling tea and the half-eaten sleeve of saltines as I slipped off the chair, cautiously judging my balance before darting to the doorway to the basement.

  “Oh, Arden. You’re home,” Mom chirped from behind me before I could escape, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.

  “Hey, yeah. Not for long. I work tonight. Just showering and taking off.”

  I didn’t miss the way her gaze shifted to what I carried nor did I miss the caustic edge to her tone when she asked, “Is that all you’ve eaten?”

  “I had cheese and yogurt too.”

  Lies. I hadn’t eaten cheese or yogurt in six years, but with a house full of kids, it was easy to claim responsibility for the missing items in the fridge without anyone being wiser.

  In truth, I think she knew I was bullshitting her, but it was easier to pretend to believe me than deal with the argument a confrontation might cause.

  “I’ll make you a sandwich for the road.”

  “Sure.”

  Forest and Baxter barreled into the kitchen and slammed into Mom’s legs, one on either side as she opened the fridge.

  “I’m hungry,” Baxter whined.

  “Me too,” Forest added, mimicking Baxter’s tone perfectly.

  Mom swatted Forest’s attempt at swiping a Lunchable from the shelf and scooched him out of the way.

  “Dinner will be another hour. Baxter, you need to work on your guitar. You have grade level testing on Saturday. Forest, reading time. Leave your brother alone.”

  The command was followed by an epic display of disapproval, but both my brothers stormed away, knowing better than to argue.

  I used the distraction to slip away unnoticed.

  I stood under the hot flow of the shower until my body warmed before washing. It was rare for me to stay that way. No matter how nice the day or how blazing hot the sun, without any body fat, I was cold all the time.

  In front of the mirror with a towel around my waist, I stared at my reflection. I looked terrible. Bones protruded—hips, ribs, collarbone. My skin didn’t carry a healthy glow any longer, and my eyes were dull. Any muscle mass I might have had was gone, and my limbs were twig-thin and knobby at the joints.

  I couldn’t lose peanut butter. I was so fucked if that happened. It had the most calories in the smallest amount, plus fat and protein. Dammit! I was already skating the line of a hundred pounds. If I slipped under, I would be in serious trouble.

  Ignoring the gaunt image in front of me and the ever-present shadows under my eyes, I took a blow dryer to my hair and styled it, giving it as much lift and fluff as I could. In recent months, it had thinned as well. Not enough for other people to have noticed, but enough I didn’t miss the way it rested flatter and seemed increasingly more scraggly with each passing week.

  Finished with my hair, I frowned at the boy-child looking back at me. I looked twelve not twenty. Annoyed, I flicked the bathroom light off and retreated to my room.

  I dressed in layers. Despite the warm summer encroaching on Dewhurst, I needed warmth and some kind of barrier so the world didn’t stare at my body. Layers gave me bulk and insulation, something I was sorely missing.

  Slacks, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, a dress shirt, and a wool vest gave enough bulk to hide behind and stay warm all while looking semi-professional for work. Before flying out the door, I stuffed a package of ramen noodles in my bag along with my half-eaten sleeve of crackers.

  Checking the time, I decided I had enough to spare that I could hit the grocery store before work, provided Mom let me use her car. Mya had piano lessons later, but Dad should be home by then, and maybe he could take her.

  Packed and ready for work, I trudged back up to the kitchen, breathing cautiously as I checked for any hints of assaulting fumes. I couldn’t afford to be sick.

  Thankfully, there weren’t any.

  “Mom, can I take your car?”

  She didn’t pause from grating a brick of cheese over a pot on the stove when she answered, “I suppose. When are you done tonight?”

  “Nine.”

  She nodded and tipped her chin at a freshly made sandwich in a Ziplock bag sitting on the counter’s edge. “Take that.”

  “Thanks.” On a thought, I swung back around and asked, “When is Phoenix home from his honeymoon?”

  “Saturday.”

  It felt like he’d been gone for a month when in reality it’d only been two weeks.

  Noting that piece of information, I scooped up the sandwich and disappeared down the hall to the front door. Checking over my shoulder to ensure Mom wasn’t watching, I crept into the den and found Forest lying on the floor with his first stage chapter book opened in front of him. He mumbled the words out loud as he followed the text with a finger.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  Forest’s gaze shot up, his flaming red hair drooping into his eyes. He brushed it aside with a palm and grinned, showing off the gaping hole where he was missing teeth. “What?” he whispered back.

  I tossed him the sandwich and winked. “Go share it with Baxter, and destroy the evidence.”

  Forest scrambled to his feet, green eyes wider than wide as he shove
d the packaged sandwich inside his shirt. “Yeeees! Thank you!”

  With a wink, I sneaked back to the front hall, snagged the keys off their hook and shot out the door without looking back.

  The small grocery store near my work carried six different brands of peanut butter. Each brand had various types: Smooth, chunky, whipped, and natural.

  Natural was a huge no-no. The yellow brand was as well. Because of my depressing Google habit, I restricted most of my choices to brands that had encountered the least amount of problems over the years. For peanut butter, it was the bear brand.

  I chose the smallest jar—since most of it would end up in the garbage—and tipped it upside down, searching for an expiration date. Doing the math, I determined that particular jar had four and a half months until it expired.

  I traced the stamped date and counted again, considering the amount of time and if I could make my brain okay with it.

  Four and a half months was a long time.

  When the jittering under my skin began, I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes closed. My stomach roiled, but I swallowed a few times and waited for it to calm before concentrating on the jar in my hands.

  Carefully, I unscrewed the lid and examined the foil seal. It appeared secure. I checked the date again. Studied the contents. Checked the date. The foil seal. The date.

  Deciding, I headed to the cash to check out then added it to my arsenal of foods in my backpack.

  Step one: complete.

  Now, if I could convince myself to ingest it later, that would be the real win.

  Ever After was located in the business sector of downtown Dewhurst. It was a small boutique that catered strictly to wedding attire with a small selection of formal wear young girls might buy for prom. It was small but elegantly organized with excessive overhead lighting and soft piano music in the background. Mannequins wore our finest and most expensive gowns while various other racks were teaming with an abundance of equally gorgeous choices. There were three large fitting rooms with mirrors on every surface, and the counters and tables were filled with fresh flowers my boss replenished as needed.