Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  “Yeah but—”

  “But just use your imagination. Everyone is downstairs. No one cares. It’s just us. We’re all alone. Tell me about Jake. I can’t believe you kissed a boy before me. I’m so jealous.”

  I laugh and relax back on the pillow. Ivory plays with my hair while I tell her all about my first kiss. She is the only one who knows my secret, and it’s comforting to be myself.

  I rattled my head and fought off the sting from the memories. No one would ever replace that bond. It wasn’t possible.

  “Bryn and I are pretty close,” I said. “She’s older than me, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as close to anyone as I was Ivory.”

  “Makes sense. Twins share a special bond no one can touch. You miss her?”

  I bit my lower lip and nodded, unable to give the heavy emotion a voice.

  The nice nurse stayed for a long time, chatting and distracting me from thoughts of what that meal replacement drink was doing to my insides. I appreciated it even when we talked about difficult topics like Ivory. It’d been six years, and most people didn’t bring her up anymore. I missed reminiscing.

  The nurse’s shift ended, but she stuck around and chatted right up until a knock sounded at my door and my parents came through—followed by Carl Yemen.

  I groaned and flopped back on the bed.

  Excusing herself and saying goodbye, the nice nurse left and took my fragile hope with her.

  “Good morning, son. Carl had a bit of time this morning, and we thought it would be beneficial to fit in a little meeting before he needed to get to work.” Dad hovered over my bedside, his way of exerting his status of head of the house and person in charge.

  “I’m kinda tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  It was pointless arguing, and I knew it. After talking with Iggy all night, I wanted desperately to blurt out that all this talk wasn’t going to help because everything they thought was wrong with me wasn’t. The truth sat stagnant on the tip of my tongue, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t make it leave my lips.

  I didn’t want to be seen as weak. Especially not in front of my father who’d labeled me as such my entire life. I also didn’t want to admit I had no control.

  Digging my fingers into the sheets of my bed, I flinched from my dad when he snapped, “You can rest after. It’s time to cleanse your soul, Arden, and the Lord will guide you on this difficult journey to healing if you let Him. When you accept Him into your life again and abide by His rules, the Lord will be there for you and help you find the path to healing. You can find your way home.”

  The underlying message was clear.

  “Wow. Is Carl here to counsel me through my eating disorder or to wash away the gay so I can be saved because I’m a little confused right now. Besides, why would Jesus want to help me when he doesn’t let me come to church? Seems a little conflicting if you ask me.”

  “Arden,” Mom hissed.

  “Why don’t you leave us,” Carl said to my parents, holding a hand up and stopping my dad’s retort.

  Reluctantly, my parents left the room, closing the door on their way out.

  “They only want to help,” Carl said, taking a seat by my bed once they were gone.

  “I think their priorities are mixed up. I’m gay, and it has nothing to do with why I don’t eat. That isn’t going to change, so if that’s what your agenda is, save your breath.”

  “My agenda is to counsel you during this difficult time and help guide you toward healing. The doctors have explained the punishment you have put upon your body by depriving it of nourishment. It’s my goal to help you overcome this so that you can see the beauty of the life and body given to you by God. Arden, I’d like to direct you to Matthew 6:25—”

  I sank back on the bed and covered my eyes, tuning him out. This wasn’t helping. None of this was going to make me better. Focusing on my breathing, I took inventory of how I felt, ensuring I wasn’t fevered or nauseous.

  While I blocked out Carl’s voice, I considered Iggy’s advice. What would change if I told everyone the truth? Would Carl simply choose different bible passages to combat my problems? The fear would never go away. It was too deeply ingrained. I couldn’t imagine a life where I didn’t shirk away from food. I’d nearly lost my mind taking a simple drink with Iggy by my side last night.

  It was hopeless.

  Sometime later, while Carl was going on about something I’d long ago stopped listening to, the door to my room opened, and Dr. Singhal came through with a nurse in tow who carried a tray of food. Behind her was Dr. Paiva, another woman who was dressed in a pantsuit, followed by my parents. It was a circus, and all I wanted was to be left alone.

  It was Dr. Singhal who spoke first. “Sorry to interrupt. Good morning, Arden. We’ve come to have a little chat so we can make some plans and help you move forward. You know Dr. Paiva and this is Melanie Hayward our dietician here at County General.”

  The nurse with the food tray slid it onto my bedside table and slinked out again, closing the door behind her. The waft of food odors made my stomach hard, and glands swell. I didn’t know what it was, but with my nerves ratcheted up, it didn’t matter. My reaction was instant, and I fought off the urge to vomit.

  My heart slammed hard enough it pulsed in my ears as I looked around at the audience all staring at me. So many faces. All believing my lies and oblivious to the truth.

  Dr. Singhal went into the same spiel I’d heard yesterday about the serious side effects of long term anorexia while Dr. Paiva confirmed where my test results placed me on their scale of severity. They discussed drugs to bring my heart rate and blood pressure up. They talked of medications to combat the other levels that were out of whack in my system. I heard terms and numbers that made no sense. Something about lowered bone density, the potential for neurological problems, gastrointestinal issues, dropping levels of testosterone, organ failure.

  That one stuck out.

  From there they jumped into the psychological factors behind the causes of anorexia and the urgency of my seeking professional help. Mom and Dad argued. Instead of talking to me, the doctors ended up speaking to my more vocal parents who trumped anything I had to say before I could open my mouth.

  They stood firm on their belief that spiritual guidance would help me more than what the hospital would offer. They expressed concern over too many medications and complained about how doctors instantly jumped onto Band-Aid solutions without properly focusing on the real issue.

  The real issue.

  The real issue that nobody but Iggy knew about.

  I heard Iggy’s voice inside my head, encouraging me to accept the real problem. Tell people. It was the only way I’d get the help I needed.

  Everyone spoke at once. Multiple conversations collided as everyone decided what was best for me like I was a kid with no opinion.

  Fighting against all my ingrained urges to stay quiet and keep the truth hidden, I knew I had to speak up. I knew I had to admit I was afraid and too weak to fight it anymore. I needed help.

  “I’m not anorexic,” I said through the buzz of conversations.

  No one stopped. No one heard me.

  I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “I’m not anorexic.”

  It took a minute but the chatter petered off, and heads turned to look at me. For the first time in twenty minutes, I had everyone’s attention. Dad looked irritated, Mom looked confused, Carl looked as passive as always. The doctors and dietician I couldn’t read, but I had their rapt attention.

  “I’m not anorexic,” I said for the third time. “I know I’m too skinny. I know I’m sick and if I don’t eat, I’ll get worse. It’s just…” The words stuck in my throat, and I glanced from face to face as my chest ached and tightened. I was dizzy again, but I pushed onward. “I can’t. I want to eat but I can’t.”

  Dr. Singhal tipped his head to the side, digesting that statement as the dietician glanced at my parents and back at me. Dr. Paiva seemed of the same mind as
his colleague and waited patiently for a further explanation.

  But my dad wouldn’t hear it. “Oh, stop this nonsense! You can so eat and you will. I’ve seen you play your mother enough times over the years. Now you’ve got the attention you’ve been seeking. Do not keep playing these games, Arden. Enough is enough.”

  “They aren’t games. I can’t eat. I want to, but I can’t do it. If you’d listen—”

  “I’ve heard enough. We’ll be taking the advice of these two doctors and formulating a plan that you will stick to even if I have to stand beside you at every meal.”

  I deflated, hearing the nice nurse’s words from earlier. “The doctors will be back to talk with you, and maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask your parents to leave the room this time. Make sure the decisions you make are all your own. You are within your rights and the help you receive is solely up to you, not them.”

  Then it was Iggy’s voice, laced with a world of concern. “I can’t lose you, Arden. Let me help you. Let me try at least.”

  Dr. Singhal cut in when he noticed my posture slipping into defeat. “I think I’m going to ask everyone to leave the room for a bit so I can have a word with Arden on his own.”

  “I’ll stay,” Dad said.

  Dr. Singhal stood his ground and showed no intimidation. “You’re welcome to rejoin us after. It wasn’t a question, Mr. McMillan. Arden is an adult, and we need to have a personal chat.”

  Dad huffed, but Mom dragged him from the room. Carl, the dietician, and Dr. Paiva followed.

  Once the room was empty, the doctor sat on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me. Tell me what you mean by ‘you can’t eat.’”

  My insides trembled, but I explained the entire experience with Ivory and my steady decline with eating and how I ended up where I was today. He listened without interrupting, asking questions where he needed more information, and genuinely seemed to care.

  “This puts an entirely different spin on things,” he said when I finished. “Arden, this is a very serious problem, and I’m going to suggest immediate intervention. Your support system feels fragile. Do you live at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you open to trying a hospital recommended psychiatrist? One who deals closely with anxiety disorders.”

  I ducked my head, rolling the repercussions around my mind. I knew my parents would be against it. Adamantly. The problem with living at home was that it was expected that you followed their rules—regardless of your age. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Standing my ground and vocalizing my sexual orientation had caused a huge riff as it was. If I didn’t listen, would this tip the iceberg? Would they kick me out?

  Where would I go?

  Phoenix could barely stand me. Bryn lived with three other roommates. Paisley was traveling.

  I could ask Iggy, but we’d only just started dating.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “They won’t agree. But… I want help. I need it.”

  I wiped a hand down my face and blew out a defeated breath. My insides were all wonky again. My heart fluttered, and every breath I took was strained. The stress of it all was eating me alive.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to make a few calls while you think about this a little more. I’ll come back this afternoon and touch base with you. I’d like to begin some of these medications we talked about immediately to help level your system while we sort this out. Do you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I want you to make all the decisions here, Arden. I know you understand the severity of what you’re facing. It’s your life and your health.”

  “I know.”

  “In the meantime, let’s see if we can get you food that makes you feel comfortable for now.” Dr. Singhal stood and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll get you on the path to healing. I promise you.”

  Deep inside, a spark of relief flashed with just enough strength to give me hope. Maybe I could do this. Maybe there would be a light at the end of the tunnel.

  Within one hour, that hope withered and died when an agonizing pain ripped through my chest, stealing my next breath and pitching my world on its axis. My ears rang, and the room spun in nauseating circles that sent me grasping for purchase on anything I could get my hands on. The tray on my bedside table crashed to the ground as I clutched my chest and bent over, trying to suck air into my lungs.

  Blinding pain.

  Tearing me from the inside out.

  Enough agony for darkness to blot out the world, dragging me under before I knew what was happening.

  I had just enough sense of mind to hit my call button before everything went dark and I slipped sideways, unconscious.

  Chapter Twenty

  Iggy

  “Dude, you look like shit. Are you okay?” Mickey asked as we left a call where our services were no longer needed. We’d been called in as extra hands to an accident on Pullman drive, but it turned out our presence was unnecessary.

  “Didn’t sleep much last night. I stayed at the hospital with Arden. It was a rough night.”

  “You wanna talk?”

  I’d been vague when we got to work that morning, and our calls had come in one after another all day, so there had been little time to fill Mickey in on all that had happened.

  “He had a few fainting spells at my place on Sunday. I called it in after the second time because he didn’t regain consciousness right away and his heart rate was low. They kept him. He’s… got an eating disorder of sorts.”

  “Ouch. Damn. That sucks. Is he doing okay now?”

  “Somewhat. He needs help.”

  “He’s in the right place for it.”

  “Yeah.”

  We were interrupted when another call came through, sending us to the other side of the city since all other rigs in the area weren’t available. Mickey flicked on the lights and sirens, and we took off. As much as Arden’s struggles were taking up most of my concentration, I pushed those concerns to the back of my mind and focused on my job.

  By quitting time, I was beat. As I wandered to my car, I checked my phone and noticed two missed calls from Phoenix along with a voicemail. Seemed odd for him to be so persistent, especially when he knew I was at work.

  I tapped the voicemail message and listened as I unlocked my car and tossed my backpack in the back seat.

  “Call me when you get this. It’s important.”

  There was something about Phoenix’s tone that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I got in my car, but instead of starting it, I hit connect on his number. The message was three hours old, but Phoenix knew I couldn’t take calls while working. Something felt off.

  It rang three times before he answered.

  “Where are you?” he choked out in lieu of a greeting. His voice cracked and reverberated in a way that made my stomach roll over.

  “Just got off work. Why? What’s going on?”

  “It’s Arden.” Phoenix’s voice hitched, and he sobbed once before pulling himself together. “Iggy…”

  The terror behind that single word made me grip the steering wheel tighter. My entire body went cold. “Phoenix, tell me he’s okay. What the fuck happened? Tell me he’s okay?” I yelled, unable to get a hold of the creeping fear cloaking my body. I’d never heard Phoenix like this in my life.

  “His heart failed this afternoon. He went into cardiac arrest…”

  My entire world shifted and shrank, and I couldn’t breathe. Phoenix’s words wouldn’t saturate my soupy brain, and I had to fight to hear him explain.

  “Tell me he’s okay? Tell me he’s okay, Phoenix. Phoenix, tell me he’s alive for fuck’s sake!” I was slipping into hysteria, and I needed to move. Do something.

  “He’s alive,” Phoenix whispered, barely able to speak past his tears. “They had to resuscitate him because his heart stopped. He’s in ICU now. They are pumping him with all kinds of stuff, trying to keep his heartbeat regulated or something. He always had a weak system. T
hey…” He sobbed again.

  “Jesus.” I scrubbed a hand over my head as I strained to focus. “Where are you?”

  “At the hospital.”

  “I’m on my way. What floor is ICU?”

  Being an EMT made me familiar with the emergency room but not much beyond that.

  “I’ll meet you outside. My parents…”

  He didn’t need to say more. There was no way I’d be allowed near Arden.

  But fuck that. There was no way I could stay away.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  I disconnected the call and took off down the road. My travels were a blur. I had no idea if I abided the traffic laws or broke every one. All I could see was Arden’s frail little body being jolted back to life with paddles and him lying on a hospital bed, teetering on the edge of life, massive heart medications the only thing keeping him alive.

  I punched the steering wheel and growled at the twisted turn of events.

  Not now. Not Arden.

  I parked in the emergency lot and ran as fast as my feet would carry me. Phoenix was outside with Carrie, but when he saw me, he broke from her embrace, and we hugged. It was fierce, and only then did I realize how badly shaken I was. Phoenix was no better. He and Arden may not get along but they were brothers, and this family had already done this once before with a sick sibling.

  “I have to see him,” I said against Phoenix’s shoulder. “They can’t keep me out. They can’t.”

  “It’s chaos up there,” Carrie cut in, rubbing Phoenix’s back in comforting circles. “The kids are all upstairs and taking turns visiting, but they should leave eventually for dinner.”

  “Do you really think Mom and Dad are gonna both leave him?” Phoenix asked, pulling from our embrace and smudging the tears from his face with the back of his hand.

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

  “I don’t care what they say. They can call security. Arden is twenty years old, and I’m his boyfriend. I’m not leaving.”

  I blasted through the doors into the emergency room with Phoenix on my heels. He snagged my shirt to slow me down. Carrie came up alongside him, matching our racing pace.