Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  “I was going to text you but thought, after three weeks, you might not respond.”

  “I can take a hint.”

  “Would you like to go for a coffee? Or tea, rather, if that suits you better. I was hoping we could talk. Try this again.” I shrugged, not wanting to blurt out anything that might jeopardize my chances.

  Arden’s gaze skipped about the parking lot, the pale blue of his irises reflecting in the setting sun. “I have to take my mother’s car home or risk the third degree. She’s fine letting me use it for work, but it comes with strict parameters.” He shrugged.

  Unsure if he was telling me no, I suggested, “I can follow you home. You can return the car, and we can find a small café?”

  Something flickered in his eyes, and he stared into the distance for a beat before coming to some conclusion. “Okay. Sure.”

  He hesitated then approached the car as I slid off the hood. Based on his demeanor, I could almost believe Arden was battling his own indecision about us as well. Maybe I’d hurt his feelings with my silence, or maybe he’d decided dating me threatened his secrets. Either way, he didn’t seem as sure as I’d hoped.

  Face to face, caught in the snare of each other’s gaze, I reached out and brushed a wispy strand of hair from his face again where the wind insisted it belonged. Tucking it behind his ear, I trailed my knuckles along his smooth cheek only realizing afterward it was his left side. I couldn’t not touch him. There was something about his baby soft skin and delicate features that drew me in.

  I yearned to be closer. Three weeks and finally the hollow ache I’d been carrying around dulled in his presence. I’d missed him.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered, winking and nudging him toward his car.

  His family lived in a wealthier area of Dewhurst Point where the houses were big, and the yards were groomed to perfection. Everyone in the neighborhood had a minimum of two cars sitting in their driveways. Arden’s home was among the largest on the street, but with what would have been nine children, it was required.

  When we arrived, I parked across the street and down a few houses. Drawing attention to myself was not in the plan. If Arden and I made something of this, we could deal with his parents then. Otherwise, I wasn’t putting myself in the line of fire.

  Fifteen minutes after he went inside, he appeared again dressed in worn jeans and a baggy hoodie, backpack still slung over his shoulder. Hands shoved in his pockets, he crossed the road and slipped into the passenger seat, eyeing me once before putting on his seatbelt.

  “You know it’s summer, right?” I asked with a warm smile so he knew I was simply teasing.

  “I get cold easily.”

  It made sense with his small size. Deciding not to poke further, I nodded at the road ahead.

  “Preferences for cafés?” Considering he was the one with the food issues, I didn’t want to assume.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  The drive was silent. I didn’t push for conversation since I was still sorting out what all I wanted to say.

  I took us to a late night café near the college. It wasn’t too busy between the later hour and the less-busy summer programs, but there were a few students lingering at tables, laptops active and textbooks open. Arden didn’t object, and we lined up to place our orders.

  A song I didn’t recognize played in the background through the speaker system and Arden swayed, mouthing the words as he looked around. A warm hint of sunshine encased him and rippled through my blood, soothing my frayed nerves.

  “What do you want?” I asked as it closed in on our turn.

  He shrugged but didn’t meet my eyes. “Nothing, thanks. I’m good.”

  His gaze flitted around the room and only when I touched his arm did he pay me attention.

  “Nothing? You don’t want tea? Juice? Anything?”

  “Not from here.”

  “Oh… We can go somewhere else. I didn’t—"

  “Wouldn’t matter. Grab yourself something. Maybe we can take it outside. I have a drink in my backpack.”

  He shuffled and scanned the café again like it was a non-issue.

  I might have pressed except the barista was ready for my order. I asked for a coffee and studied Arden while I waited. He ensured his attention was elsewhere the entire time despite knowing I watched him.

  “Do you want a treat or something? A cookie? A piece of pie?” I asked, knowing the answer but curious to see what he’d say.

  He shook his head, adamantly refusing, tipped his chin higher and stood straighter as he shuffled his feet. Arden possessed a shield, and his body language reflected all potential questions before I could voice them.

  When my coffee was ready, I paid and guided Arden by an elbow out the front door. Biting back the urge to ask him why he’d accepted a drink invitation then declined drinks, I asked, “Where to?” instead.

  He stared across the street for a solid minute, lost in thought before firming his lips and meeting my gaze for the first time since we’d gone inside. There was a distinct challenge lingering in his eyes, and I wondered what he’d expected from my invitation. “We don’t have to go far. Mind if we picnic on your car?”

  “I’m sorry, picnic?”

  His cheek twitched, and there was a flash of that almost-smile before he turned and strolled toward my car in the parking lot. He hopped up and planted his ass on the hood, patting the spot beside him.

  “You have a thing with sitting on cars.”

  “Only yours. Do you mind?”

  I sat beside him and cracked the lid on my coffee. “No. What do you mean by picnic?”

  He hesitated then drummed his fingers on his pants before hopping down and retrieving his backpack from the front seat where he’d left it. Once he settled again, he unzipped his bag and withdrew a sleeve of crackers. He waved them at me as he dropped his bag beside him.

  “Picnic. I didn’t have time for dinner this evening. Cracker?” He pulled the package open and held it out.

  The expression on his face was guarded. Challenging. He expected me to say something, have an issue, a comment, ask a question, tell him crackers weren’t enough. He was ready and daring me. I didn’t bite. Crackers and coffee. An odd combination, but if I wanted to get to the bottom of Arden, I would go with it.

  “Thanks.” I picked two from the sleeve, popped one in my mouth and set the other on my knee. I chewed and watched him attentively. “You know, if you were hungry—”

  “This is all I need.”

  Arden removed a cracker for himself and studied it meticulously. I couldn’t decide if it was for a specific reason or if it was simply because he was deep in thought, preparing some speech to defend this recent bout of odd behavior.

  Finally, he nibbled the corner, eating it at a painstakingly slow rate. Both my crackers were gone before he’d made a dent in his first, and I didn’t get more of an explanation.

  “You didn’t call me,” he stated when he was halfway through his first cracker. “I figured I fucked up somehow and you didn’t want to bother with me. I get that.”

  “You didn’t fuck up.”

  “No? Let me guess. You’ve just been too busy?”

  It would have been easy to lie, but I wasn’t that type of person.

  “Yes, I have, but that isn’t why I didn’t call.”

  He turned his half-eaten cracker in his fingers, squinting at it, puckering his lips—which only worked on the right side of his face. If he knew that, he’d have never let me witness it.

  The sun was gone, but the streetlamp above our heads shone bright, highlighting Arden’s blond hair and making tiny freckles stand out across his nose.

  “Was it because I didn’t eat your dinner? Or maybe because you discovered this,” he waved at his body, “isn’t your type?”

  “This?”

  “Never mind.” He nibbled his cracker again like a mouse, shaving off the edges in increments.

  “You’re very much my type, so I’m not sure what you m
ean by this? The truth is, I let Phoenix get inside my head, and he was pretty adamant we shouldn’t date.”

  Arden’s head shot around, his cracker forgotten. “Excuse me?”

  I held up my hands to ward off his laser glare. “The point is, I shouldn’t have done that because it’s none of Phoenix’s business who I date—even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you.”

  “What did he say?” Arden was poised for a fight, not with me but against anything negative his brother may or may not have claimed. The blue of his irises sparked fire, and he scowled—albeit crookedly. I tried not to smile at just how endearing it looked. He’d pitch a fit if he had any clue. And I realized just how much I adored his inner fire.

  “It doesn’t matter what Phoenix said because I’m not listening to him, and I’m here because I want to be. I should have called you three weeks ago after our date like I wanted to. Am I too late to make a go at this again? I think we have a connection. I like talking to you. The movie was fun. The stuff after was even better.”

  “And dinner was a disaster.”

  True. And why was that?

  “I think you have your reasons. Maybe it’s not something you want to share with me just yet, but if you can give me some groundwork, I’m sure we can sort through it. I enjoy cooking. I can find some good, healthy recipes and try again if that helps.”

  Arden blanched, his gaze flitting over my face as though I hadn’t spoken English then he returned to his cracker, frowning in disgust as he finished it. “Phoenix told you I’m anorexic, didn’t he?”

  “Among other things.”

  He huffed a humorless laugh and plucked another cracker from the package. Studying it with a scrunched up nose, he remained silent. Gently, he set his cracker down on his knee and fished inside his bag again, unearthing a small jar of peanut butter. He turned it in his hand, flipped it over and studied the bottom, unscrewed the lid, sniffed it, stared into its depths, sniffed again, then returned it to his bag unused with a heavy sigh.

  Returning back to his cracker, he examined it thoroughly before nibbling the corner the same as before. He didn’t confirm or deny or say anything at all.

  “Is it true?” I pressed.

  Arden shrugged. “My family and counselors say so. I wouldn’t dare disagree with them.”

  His tone hovered on the edge of sarcastic, and I didn’t know what to think.

  “So, are you saying they’re wrong?”

  “No, Iggy, I’m saying, go me! I’m anorexic. I have a strict policy with food. I eat only what I deem acceptable and nothing more. It makes my parents crazy which is my number one goal in life. According to Phoenix, it’s why I keep up this charade and don’t let the professionals fix me. Still wanna date?”

  Everything about that statement was wrong. Every word dripped with sarcasm and anger. Alarm bells rang inside my head, screaming at me to pay attention because the truth was carefully hidden behind his razor-sharp edge of bitterness. I just couldn’t figure it out.

  Maybe if Arden wasn’t someone I’d known for most of my life, I’d have decided this was all too much to kick off a new relationship, but a war raged inside me. Not only was this little Arden McMillan, the pain in the ass kid Phoenix and I had dodged growing up, but he was so much more.

  Arden had grown up. He was attractive, quirky, passionate, mysterious, and had somehow managed to catch my attention over the course of a single evening at his brother’s wedding. I wanted to kiss that mouth until it bruised, hold him and listen to him talk about his love for design. I wanted to hear that laugh and see that smile he hid so carefully from the whole world. I wanted to touch him, coax him out of his shell and learn all there was to know.

  Also, I was a natural caregiver, and something about this entire situation triggered my instinct to help. He didn’t realize it, but Arden was screaming for attention, and I got the sick feeling no one was listening. I could no sooner ignore it than I could ignore a bleeding man on the street.

  I wasn’t an expert on anorexia, but to my knowledge, sufferers generally didn’t pride themselves on their disorder nor did they use it as a weapon to infuriate their parents. This whole thing was backward and wrong. Yet, Arden spoke with enough of an edge I didn’t think challenging him was a good idea.

  I considered my options while Arden pecked at another cracker, eyeing me. Shoving the hundred and ten questions away for another day, I helped myself to another cracker and nudged his shoulder.

  “So, I guess we need to get creative with our dates since eating out is off the table.”

  “Are you saying my cracker date under the stars is a failure?” Arden fought a smile and picked another from the package, tucking it into my hand. “If that’s the case, see if I share my apple with you.”

  It took me a beat to follow the flow of his humor. One second we were discussing something I would have deemed fairly serious, and the next, Arden was acting saucy and pulling a carefully swathed apple and a knife from his backpack.

  Flummoxed, I stared opened mouthed as he carefully peeled his apple and cut it into thin wedges, using the napkin as a plate. Once he managed a few pieces, he held up the napkin with the apple, offering me a slice. Before I could accept one, he moved his hand away.

  The tone of the evening shifted yet again when he spoke. A distant look fogged his vision and somberness rang all around him. “I have serious issues surrounding food. Call it anorexia, call it bulimia, call it whatever you want to call it, I don’t care. I’ve heard it all. Whatever helps you sleep at night. The point is, they are my issues. I’m aware of them. I do my best. I get by. I like you, Iggy, and I want to date you if you can handle my weird quirks. All I ask is that you don’t try to fix me. I’m not fucking broken. Understand? I’m strong and independent.”

  So, discussions about food and food-related topics were off the table. Noted. I still couldn’t help feeling like I was missing something important. Was it a big deal that Arden was picky? He obviously ate. He was eating right now. Not that a few crackers and an apple were substantial for dinner.

  Phoenix’s words came back to me.

  “He’s gonna fuck with your head. Worse than Collin did. Everything is a game to him. He lies, he manipulates…”

  I shut those warnings down before they skewed my perception again. Follow my gut, that was what Mickey had told me. My gut was screaming warnings of a different variety, but they were less clear.

  Arden’s pale blue eyes radiated in the streetlight, his shapely mouth glistened from when he’d licked cracker crumbs off them, and he waited with a firm resolve and challenging stare. There were no signs of weakness. Arden radiated with a strength and power that came from his core.

  But he was hiding something.

  God, what was I doing?

  If he was honest to goodness struggling with an eating disorder, I could never turn a blind eye. I’d monitor him. Be aware. More so than his brother and the rest of his family. I wouldn’t bug or insist he ate, but I wouldn’t ignore a problem if it was there.

  I would get to know Arden completely, take the good with the quirky, and figure it out as I went.

  “Understood,” I said, accepting a piece of apple.

  Chapter Ten

  Iggy

  Five crackers and three apple wedges. That was all Arden ate. The minute the apple started turning brown, he offered it to me before chucking it into a nearby garbage. He drank a few mouthfuls of vitamin water before the bottle ended up following the apple. The peanut butter was right behind it. The only thing Arden kept was the sleeve of crackers.

  I noted it all but said nothing.

  It was after ten, but since we’d maneuvered over the hump of the evening, I wasn’t ready to go our separate ways. Since he’d barely eaten, I didn’t want to suggest drinks at a bar, and the late shows at the movies would have already begun. I racked my brain for something to do.

  “Come on.” I slapped his knee and hopped down off the hood of the car.

  He followed, a
distinct quirk in the corner of his mouth.

  I drove us down a few side streets until we reached the riverside. There was a large park nearby where festivals were held regularly during the summer months. I parked at the end of the giant parking lot and encourage Arden to follow me into the open field toward an arrangement of picnic tables nearby.

  With only the light of the moon, I studied the tables to determine which was cleanest and hopped up, encouraging Arden to join me.

  “What are we doing?” he asked, climbing up beside me.

  “Stargazing.”

  He tipped his chin skyward, lips parted in awe at the blanket of stars overhead. It was a warm, clear night. A hint of a breeze blew off the water, making the slight humidity tolerable for the average person.

  Arden pulled his hood up.

  “Lie with me.” I stretched out on my back, lengthwise across the table and rested my hands under my head.

  Arden flipped his gaze between me and the sky once before wiggling in beside me and lying on his back as well. Our legs brushed together, our elbows knocked, but neither of us shifted apart.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen so many stars,” Arden said after a silent minute. “There weren’t this many earlier.”

  “It’s because there are fewer city lights interfering here. Makes them pop out more. How’s your astronomy? Know any constellations?”

  He chuckled, but when I turned my head to catch it, he’d fixed his features once again. “Nah, not me. Go for it. Educate me.”

  I smiled and resumed staring at the sky. “Well, let’s see. See that grouping of stars over there?” I pointed, and Arden squinted, shuffling closer to follow my finger.

  “I think so. The ones that kinda form a blob?”

  “Yeah, those ones. I like to call them, Puddle of Stars.”

  Arden snorted and turned his face against my arm, swatting me. “You don’t know shit about constellations, do you?”

  “Not a clue. I make my own.” I tucked my chin against the top of his head while he continued laughing, nuzzling my chest. “Look, I’ll show you more.”