Being With You (The Redemption Series) (5 page)

But he did know one person he needed to have that conversation with…and soon. Susy needed to know…not because he was afraid he would hurt her in the night or keep her awake, but she needed to know because she was genuinely becoming an important part of his life, and he
wanted
to be honest with her. She wasn’t pushy or bossy, or overbearing, and he hoped she wouldn’t jump to try to solve his problems or get in his face about things. He had no desire to go back to sitting once a week in a sterile shrink’s office talking in circles and getting nowhere. In fact, most of his therapy appointments made him feel worse, not even an iota better.

A small tap on the glass door behind him brought him out of his meandering thoughts. Tristan turned to see Susy standing on the other side with a strange look on her face; she had her eyebrows drawn together to the point where they’d formed a crease, and her eyes were glassy. A tight smile crossed her lips as Tristan slid open the door and stepped back inside the warm space. He hadn’t realized how intensely cold it was outside until he came back in; his skin was covered in goosebumps and his body was shivering in protest.

Susy reached up and ran her fingers over his lips intimately and a tear slipped out of her eye in direct contradiction. She sniffled and told him, “Your lips are starting to turn blue, Tristan. Are you okay?”

Shit
…must have been out there longer than he realized.

He worked his facial muscles around a bit to work blood back into the tissues and smiled as he told her, “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinkin’. Got time to sit and talk with me for a bit, my little Sus?”

Tristan tried to lighten the moment with his words and even accentuated it by tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She smiled easily and sighed, “Yeah…I do, punk.” Using the nickname she’d graced him with in return for the one he’d given her, the pair smiled broadly at each, easing the tension in the room for just a moment.

“I’m okay, Susy,” he added. “I just have some things I need to tell you…things I should’ve said before you agreed to be my roommate.”

Susy sat down on their couch, pulled a throw blanket around herself, and Tristan sat close enough to wrap a portion of the material around himself as well. She scooted in to his body with her feet in his lap and maneuvered the large wool square around the both of them, tucking it around her feet and his legs. “There,” she said with a humph. “Now, what have you been holding back from me? Are you a secret agent who pretends to be a bartender at night and kills people during the day? No…that’s backwards…”

Tristan laughed and tried to interrupt her, “No, Sus…”

“No, wait, wait, wait!! I wanna guess! You’re really a woman…No…I’ve felt what you bring to the party that day at the restaurant,” she teased and laughed in earnest. Tristan growled playfully and worked at getting his hands around her waist and tickling her sides. She thrashed back and forth for a bit as he laughed at her antics, and she flailed until finally crying out, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Their laughter died down and Tristan tucked them both back under the blanket because the room felt way too cold now that they were sharing each other’s body heat. “Susy, I told you once that I was fucked up in the head, but I never told you exactly what’s wrong with me.”

Susy shrugged and added, “I know you’re bipolar, Tristan, and that you have nightmares a lot. I’ve heard you scream at night for the last two weeks and you hardly ever look well rested in the morning.”

“I’m sorry if I keep you up at night, Susy. I didn’t realize I was screaming. I’ll probably get our asses booted out of here if I don’t get my shit together.” Tristan scrubbed his hands down his face as he thought about getting them tossed out because he was a fucking head case. It wasn’t a five-star place, but it was comfortable and clean and in a decent neighborhood. Plus, if they lost the place because of his recurring nightmares about something he couldn’t even clearly remember during the day, he’d be seriously ready to end his existence, even when things were starting to work out for him.

Sensing Susy staring at him, Tristan looked up to see a tight smile on her face and a pained look around her eyes. “We won’t get kicked out, Tristan. It’s not that bad…your room is on the outside wall anyway. I was hoping at some point you would trust me enough to tell me what has you tied up in knots, but it’s okay, too, if you don’t want to.”

“No,” he rocked his head back and forth. “You’re a great friend, Sus…you need to know. I was having a complete manic episode and felt like I was invincible. I took a girl to a BDSM club and hurt her without realizing what I was doing,” he cursed under his breath. “I crashed out of it and the owner of the club took me to the hospital, where I was admitted to the psychiatric unit. I was diagnosed as being bipolar, which you already knew, but nothing seems to be helping me to get back to normal. And that worthless therapist I had to see every week said I had yet to make any significant progress, and was recommending I take more and more drugs to the point I’m at now. For all the drugs I fucking take, you would think I’d be a zombie.”

Tristan shrugged. “I have no recollection of the nightmares once I’m awake, other than knowing they are about my childhood. They feel real for a bit when I wake up, and then my panic attacks start. During the day, it’s not so bad, but…”

Susy wrapped her arms around his waist and encouraged him with a squeeze. “But what, Tristan?”

He hmphed and answered with a sigh. “I feel so off…Those doctors didn’t listen to a fucking thing I had to say, and I really don’t want to take so many god damn drugs just to keep going. But at this point, I’m scared to stop taking them. What if I turn into a monster again?”

Another long sigh and then Tristan sank deeper into the couch and rested his head on the back. Susy didn’t say anything, just held onto him tighter and then started humming softly. It was actually funny that she wasn’t scared shitless now that she knew what he was capable of and what had happened to bring him to this point.

He chuckled and she ceased long enough to sit up. Then she exaggeratedly continued humming the song right in his face. “Don’t like singing? Humming? That song?” she teased after she stopped.

He pulled his eyebrows together and told her in all seriousness, “Susy, I just told you that I’m a drugged out psycho and you calmly hum a love song against my chest. Maybe you’re as fucked up as I am.”

Susy rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest. “I don’t think you’re fucked up…on the contrary, actually. I think you got stuck with some horseshit doctors and you need a second opinion and a new track that doesn’t include so many drugs. But you’re you and I’m me,” she accentuated with her finger pointed to him and then back to herself. “I’m not a doctor, and I’m damn sure not going to get in your face about something unless you
ask
for me to help. Otherwise, I’ll be your best friend and hold you if or when you get scared, and sit with you when you’re upset, and listen when you need to vent.”

“Pl-u-s-s,” she drew out as she uncovered herself and climbed out of their cocoon on the couch, “I’ll feed you when you’re hungry. Come on, punk. I’ll dish up our supper and we can eat our din din on paper plates on the lovely indoor grotto we have.” Susy laughed as she motioned to their indoor patio furniture with a wave.

Tristan didn’t immediately get off the couch, just sat there letting her words sink in.
A new track that doesn’t include so many drugs…I’m not going to get into your face about something unless you ask for me to help…otherwise, I’ll be your best friend…

Everyone else had always jumped right out and just tried taking things over and telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. It was absolutely refreshing that Susy was content to only be his friend and not try to fix all his problems. She knew now what he was capable of in the past, and it didn’t send her running for the hills. Granted, she may change her mind in a day or two or three, but her gut reaction was not of fear, not of pity, or a feeling of conquering an obstacle for him…

Susy was happy to be with him, as he was…

And right now, she
was
his best friend. And hopefully he was hers. Because the contentment that spread through his gut as he thought about it made him feel better than he’d been in more than a month.

T
he ensuing party that night wasn’t obscenely crazy, but their next door neighbors did come over to ask them to keep it down, but then they stayed to have a few drinks as well. Tristan started mixing up and passing out shots galore to the group, and even had a chance to talk with one of Susy’s older friends who was into fitness. He was a wealth of information and the pair talked for a long time.

Tristan found himself good and plastered at midnight, and was just thinking about ending the party when Susy’s friend Shane started a drinking game in the dining room. Knowing he’d reached his limit, he didn’t join in, but stood behind Susy’s chair and watched her, practically growling when she repeatedly lost and had taken quite a few shots of tequila in her little body in a short amount of time. Not feeling like taking his roommate to the hospital for alcohol poisioning, he called out, “Last time” and gave all the other players a stern look so they knew Susy had had enough.

They were playing a shot pyramid. The last person had to put the remaining full glass on the top or risk taking the entire round of shots for the table if he or she failed. The number of people sitting at the table made it almost like Susy was bound to get hammered no matter which way things went, and he was all but ready to toss the fucker out the door who started this game.

Of course, Susy couldn’t get her shaking arms to place the last glass on the pyramid, and the four remaining shots were passed over to her. Tristan pulled her chair out before she could take the first one and hoisted her out of her seat. “You could fucking kill someone with this game. No more. She’s done.”

The guys sitting on either side of Susy agreed and one even added, “Yeah…I don’t remember the rules of this game being quite like this Shane. She’s had enough.”

“Fucking pussies,” Shane told them as he stood up and his chair went toppling behind him. “I can easily put these last four away. You guys just can’t handle yourself.” He started to reach for the pile of shots across the table and Tristan made a quick decision that he didn’t want anyone leaving his house completely bombed like that. But Susy had already passed out in his arms and he couldn’t risk setting her down in her room before disposing of the last of the booze.

All that was left on the table was the four shots and one extra nearby, so with his one free hand, Tristan precariously balanced his roommate in his arms and grabbed the five remaining shots, slamming them back in succession. He’d almost dropped Susy in the process because she was dead weight in his arms, but he managed to keep her from falling.

Tristan backed away from the group and said directly to Shane, “I bet you set this up to get Susy so drunk you could end up in her bed. Even if you deny it, fucktard, I wouldn’t believe you. I don’t ever want to see you near her again. You got it?”

Shane didn’t even deny the accusations, and flipped Tristan off as he stormed off. The few remaining people who were left in the apartment muttered some apologies to his back as he took Susy to her room. The shots he’d just hammered back were starting to take hold of him, and he was quickly slipping into a darkened haze.

The last thing he remembered was falling into Susy’s bed and her landing next to his side.

I’m dying
…Tristan thought.
That is the only rational explanation for why my head is throbbing and my throat feels like I swallowed a cactus.

Within moments of his brain functioning again, Tristan remembered why he felt like a mariachi band was playing in his brain and someone pooped in his mouth. It took every ounce of strength he could muster to pull his arms in closer to his body from where they were stretched out and work at sitting up in what he hoped was Susy’s bed.

Just the tiny movements he’d made were making the room spin and his head throb, and Tristan slammed his eyes shut again to try to keep his head from exploding in pain. His stomach rolled inside him and the poison he’d ingested last night must still be wreaking havoc; it was hard to breathe without adding to the waves of nausea that were bubbling up from his guts.