Tangled (19 page)

Bile
seesawed within her.

To
think she wanted to sow the seeds of her future within the medical community.
An irrational giggle tickled the back of her throat.

Tess
soaped her hands and began to scrub vigorously. Sadly, her jeans were a lost
cause. She cleaned up to the best of her abilities and retrieved another vomit
pail from Chastity.

She
reached for the curtain partitioning Adonis’s enclosure when a masculine voice
drew her up short. “—Dr. Monroe. I have a few questions for you.”

She
wavered. This was wrong and probably illegal on so many counts it wasn’t even
funny.

The
doctor spoke again. “How did we end up here today?”

“The
same way all your overdose patients do. An overdose.”

“Funny,”
the doctor remarked blandly. “What medication did you take?”

“Xanax.”
 

“Is
that all?” Skepticism riddled his tone.

“I
may have chased it with a bottle of Jim Beam.”

“How
many alcoholic drinks to you consume a day?”

“That’s
a good question.”

“Do
you have a history of depression or suicidal thoughts?” the doctor droned on by
rote.

“I
wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Adonis snipped with a fraction of his usual
snarl. “It was an accident. You try going a week without sleep.”

“Do
you have a reoccurring problem with insomnia?”

“Only
when I’m
adderolling
,” Sarcasm imbued the confession.

“So
you attend the college then? And I’m assuming you take the medication because
it’s test time and not because you were prescribed it to treat ADHD.”

“Sure,
why not.”
 

“Mr.
Benoit, I assure you that there are better ways to prepare for exams than
overstimulating
your body.”

“Thanks,
doc. I’ll take those pamphlets to go.”

“Can
you describe your history of drug abuse?”

“There
aren’t enough hours in the day.”

The
sound of a pen scrawling across paper filled the gap between questions. “Does
your family have a history of substance or drug abuse?” Dr. Monroe continued
nonplussed.

“Depends
on your definition of abuse.”

“Mental
illnesses?”

Her
breath caught when he didn’t respond.

“Have
you been prescribed any medication within the last six months?”

“Valproate,”
Adonis volunteered tightly.
 

“And
what was it prescribed for?”

The
ensuing silence felt longer and icier than the rest.

“When
was the last time you took your meds?”

“Never.”

“Mr.
Benoit, you do understand the repercussions of forgoing medication prescribed
to you?”

Adonis
emitted a ragged laugh. “Repercussions? Like what? Depression? Bipolar
disorder? Don’t worry, doc, my family’s been there done that, and are mostly
dead. I’m just trying to have a little fun before I strike out.”

The
revelation almost sent her stumbling into a crash cart.

“Which
is why its better to address these things sooner rather than later.” This time
there was no hurried impatience or droll cynicism in his tone, merely concern.

“Because
of all the good it did for my family.” Weariness threaded the admission. “Just
tell me what I have to do to get out here.”

“One
of the nurses will be in shortly to move you to a room in the psychiatric unit.
We’ll keep you for a few days for observation and then you’ll be free to go. During
that time, I’d highly advise you to consider your future. We’d be more than
happy to give you a referral to a mental health clinic.”

“I
don’t need a shrink.”

“Just
give it some thought.”

Tess
ducked down as the doctor swished past.
 

Like
a bucket of water thrown against a wet painting, her emotions ran in
indistinguishable rivulets and converged in a delta of chaos. Confusion dominated
above all.

He
was bipolar? How had she not known?

Not
that they were exactly on friendly terms, but secrets never stayed secrets for
long within their mutual circles.

Which
meant he’d been keeping this to himself for years.

Her
thoughts sprung back through time.

Talking
back to teachers, never shutting up in class, always trying to entertain an
audience. No wonder they never figured it out. She, like everyone else, merely
attributed his highs and lows to drug use.

They’d
definitely been an adequate cover for his behavior.

If
she looked past all of the swaggering arrogance, his longstanding affair with
drugs, the persecution and raging against his offenders, what was she left
with?

A
guy who didn’t want to get better?

Someone
terrified of being less than perfect?

Gathering
herself, she allowed a minute elapse before entering. “Here, I got you a clean bucket.”

“Aren’t
you helpful.”

Empathy
diluted the effects of his rancor. “I do what I can.” Tess thrust the fresh bin
at him quickly, unable to look him in the eye. “The nurse said she’d be back in
ten minutes to collect your old one. Do you need anything else before I go?”

“No.”
Her pulse doubled at the suspicion embedded in the word.

“Cool.
I’ll bring you a change of clothes and your things tomorrow. See you.” Tess
scuttled away before he could read her guilt.

_____________

He
was an idiot.

A fucking idiot.

Because only a fucking idiot would end up
in the hospital after an accidental overdose of Xanax.

Adonis
tried to recall how many he’d taken, but his mind drew a blank.

His
chest burned. Only it had nothing to do with stomach acid and whatever the hell
he’d last eaten.

Actually,
when was the last time he’d eaten? The past few days had been nothing short of
a blur.

It
was his fault for railing too much
Vyvanse
. He’d
needed the uppers to drag himself out of a funk. It was part of his usual
regimen of bouncing from uppers to downers. Usually he struck a steady balance
between the two, but every now and then he screwed up the equation. The
Vyvanse
had kept pushing him higher and higher until he’d
been forced to ground himself.

Despite
the ‘diagnosis’ his counselors in rehab tried to tag him with, Adonis knew he
was fine. He’d spent years hammering
chang
and
dabbling in H. Withdrawals and irritability were a normal part of the healing
process. It had nothing to do with his family’s demented legacy.

He
didn’t want to think of them.

He
made it a point not to.

But
deserted memories stirred from the darkest recesses of his mind, agitating old
hurt. The last time he spoke with his grandparents. The last time he saw his
brother, Nikolai. The last time he could conjure a memory of his mother without
feeling both unadulterated revulsion and a bone deep longing.

Emotion
he refused to acknowledge seared the backs of his eyes.

He
was completely and utterly alone.

And
he hated them for it. Hated them for being weak and giving up.

Adonis
gripped the bed’s plastic railing and drove the memories back to their dusty
enclave.

And
then there was Tess. How the hell had he wound up indebted to her?

He
knew there was a possibility she’d overheard his tale of woe. It explained why
she couldn’t look him in the eye when she returned.

The
idea of her possessing that kind of knowledge made him feel exposed and raw,
like a nerve slit open for anyone’s perusal. There was no way in hell she
wasn’t going to stage a coup, even after suspending his ultimatum.

It
didn’t matter. He still had the upper hand. Or did he? The dice had been rolled
and were strewn across a board game. Only the rules had changed. Where did he
fit? How would this all play out?

He
slumped back, his eyelids deadened weights.

Why
couldn’t she have just left him on the floor to die?

Chapter 10

The
cab dropped her off at Cameron’s house. Miraculously she retained enough
presence of mind to recall the physical address.

Tess
paid the driver and mustered the energy to get out. Her body felt unnaturally
heavy, as if her mood had transmuted and perfused her bones with titanium alloy.
Her brain, on the other hand, was still trying to break down and process what
she’d learned. She wished she could confide in someone. Anyone. But, against
her better judgment, she promised that she would keep his secret.

Tess
dragged her feet to the door. Before she could reach for the handle, it opened
of its own accord. Her muscles seized at the sight of Cameron.

“I
was just about to drive over to see you before I left.” He peered down at her.
“Are you ok?”

Tess
shook the shock. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

He
frowned. “What happened to your jeans?”

“Uh,
paint. I was cleaning up paint,” she fumbled. “Jade made a mess with one of her
art projects.”

“No
kidding.” He moved toward her.

She
dodged back before he could touch her. Stained with more than just blood, it
seemed wrong. Tess donned a brittle smile and pointed to her pants. “I don’t
want to mess up your clothes.”

“I’ll
live,” he said dryly and yanked her forward.

Her
resistance crumbled to nil as his arms banded tight around her. Surrendering, she
melted into his embrace. The familiarity of his toned sinew and fresh,
blue-water scent restored some measure of normality. Nestled within the safety of
his hold, illusion attempted to overlay reality.

But
its resolution was grainy, a crumpled fade that didn’t quite measure up to the
original.

His
thumb rode her nape. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

She
nodded. “I just need a nap.”

“I’ll
pick up dinner for you.”

At
the mention of food, her stomach gave a plaintive whine. The wrap she bought
was probably still lying on Adonis’s floor. “Isn’t your family expecting you?”

Cameron
smiled. “They can wait. My girlfriend needs to be fed.”

Appreciation
warmed her. “You make me sound like livestock.”

His
mouth skimmed the column of her neck. “Well, you’re mine to milk and feed and
take care of.”

Tess
laughed, feeling more like
herself
. “Way to make a
girl feel special.” She reached for her wallet.

His
hand covered hers. “I’ve got you. Consider it my treat for helping me study
last night. Amongst other things,” he teased.

She
flushed, the response thawing most of the lingering coldness that’d followed
her from the hospital. “Fine. But next time we go
dutch
.”

“Ok,
Miss Independent Woman. What’re you in the mood for?”

“How
about that pizza place downtown?” It’d give her ample time to get Adonis’s stuff
together.

“Sounds
good.” He pecked her nose. “Be back in twenty.”
 

Guilt
soured within her as he ducked into the Audi. She was the worst. Three weeks
into the relationship and she was already harboring more secrets than she could
keep track of.

Come on, Tess. Keep it
together.

She
waited until the Audi sped out of sight to head up to the attic. The room was
as she’d left it several hours prior. Lights blazed and the heater raged on
full blast, exacerbating the smell of iron and decaying veggies and deli meats swaddled
in her wrap.

Her
throat convulsed at the sight of dried blood streaked on the floor.

She’d
get to that later.
 

Although
she’d visited his room twice now, Tess had never gotten the chance to look
around. It definitely wasn’t the average college student’s dorm room.

Boldness
seemed to be a common denominator, from the rich, wine-red comforter and black,
100% Egyptian cotton sheets. Instead of tacking up buy one, get one free
posters, he’d hung up framed artwork.

He
didn’t strike her as the type to be involved in the art scene.

The
painting hanging over the headboard snagged her attention, its familiarity both
striking and insistent. The post Impressionist piece was simplistic in style
and execution at first glance. It depicted an aerial view of a maze that
doubled as a garden, its bright foliage ripe with health and fertility. But the
longer she stared at her, the more the darker, denser colors at its center
pulled her focus. If she didn’t blink, the maze seemed to cave into itself.

Her
eyes fell to the neatly scrawled name in the corner.

Selene
Argyros
.

The
name clicked.

She’d
proofread a paper Jade wrote about the artist at the beginning of the term.
Apparently Selene had taken the art world by storm in the 90s before dropping
off the radar. The mystery surrounding her disappearance had made collectors
rabid for her remaining pieces.

Tess
would bet her left arm that this was an original.
  

Giving
the painting one last thoughtful glance, Tess closed her investigation. She
opened the closet and looked for an empty bag.

Her
gaze landed on a steel trunk. Its presence was completely out of place amongst
the detail of high-end luggage piled in the corner.

It
seemed a little excessive for a porn stash.

One
peek couldn’t hurt. Taking a knee, Tess unsnapped the silver hooks and
carefully lifted the lid.

The
space was partitioned into two sections. Model ships occupied the right.
Everything had been constructed to the smallest detail, from the mock cables
and cords connecting various parts of the ship’s framework to the tiny stairs
leading to the captain’s quarters. 

The
amount of patience and methodical detail that’d gone into its assembly was
nothing short of phenomenal.

It
must have taken months to assemble.

Out
of all the things Tess had expected to find, this certainly wasn’t one of them.

Her
eyes drifted to the trunk’s left side. Wooden tablets rested in neat stacks
along with a curious assortment of tools and materials. She pushed the
archaic-looking utensils aside and withdrew one of the slabs.

The
image engraved onto the tightly grained wood stole her breath.

The
detailing was flawless.

Rendered
in earthy, shaded tones, a lone tree perched on the edge of a mountain
overlooking a desolate valley, its silhouette cast against a warm sky at dusk.
He’d captured the essence of nature at its most vulnerable. Warm and organic,
it looked real enough that she could reach out and test the worn bark. It was
introspective and heart-achingly melancholic.

Adonis, the wood-burning, model
ship-making artist.

“You’re
not so bad ass after all,” she murmured.

________________

Feet
propped on her desk, Tess chewed pensively on her pen cap. Beyond her window, the
city was a hive of activity. Forty floors above the street level and she could
still sense its lifeblood, its energy, beating around her in a scrim of particulate
matter trying its damnedest to worm beneath her skin and tempt her into revelry.

Instead
of answering its call, hitting up her favorite bodega for the pho sandwich
she’d been salivating for, or, more importantly, gaining a head start on
upcoming assignments, Tess spent the majority of Thanksgiving conducting research.

Of
course it had nothing remotely to do with her classes.

She
had completed her last midterm yesterday. It’d taken her longer to psych
herself up to return to the hospital than it had to take any of her exams. Eventually,
she grew a pair and hitched a ride to the hospital.

Her
anxiety had been for naught.

His
room was empty when she arrived. Tess briefly pondered the idea of sticking
around for his return. In the end, she dropped off the bag and caught a bus
back to the city.

She
wasn’t that hard pressed for his gratitude.

Now
that she was home, Tess couldn’t shake off what happened. After hours of poring
over online medical journals, forums, and blogs, she discovered that bipolar
disorder was more complicated than she initially presumed. Primarily
hereditary, the different categories and psychotic diagnoses that could
accompany it blew her mind: the euphoric highs, crushing lows, and a chaotic
range of emotions in between.

Coupled
with what she found in his room, it made her reevaluate everything she knew
about him.

Or
thought she knew.

No,
it didn’t excuse his behavior or nullify the crap he put her through, but it
gave room for concession. She read how it could tear apart families and put
friendships through the wringer. Was that why he treated everyone as if they
were disposable? Cameron seemed to be the exception, which was why she didn’t
understand why he wanted to keep his hospitalization a secret. After everything
Cameron had done, did Adonis really think he’d abandon him in the midst of a
crisis?

“Who’s
bipolar?”

Tess
swiveled around. Her mother raised the book in question. “What? No one. It’s for
a paper.” She shot out of the chair and wrested it from her hand.

Maia
looked her as if she were the crazed one. Tess chose not to expatiate on the
topic. Although she never met Adonis, it seemed too personal a subject to
casually discuss with someone.
Even her own mother.

“I
used to work in a drug rehabilitation center, so if you have questions, just
ask.”

“You
worked as a part-time custodian. I doubt any information you have will be
useful.” Shame pinged through her at Maia’s hurt expression. “I didn’t mean it
like that.”

“You
know you did,” Maia said, her voice flat, her green eyes flatter. “You’ve made
it more than clear how you feel about my failures. Heaven forbid you ever make
a mistake in your life.”

Tess
winced. If only she knew.

“Dinner
will be ready in five,” she snipped out before vacating the room.

So
much for starting the holiday off on the right foot.

She
clipped on her earrings and tracked down her mother to the dining room. Tess did
a double take. Glass candleholders dressed either end of the snowy white, lace
tablecloth. Crystal stemware and heavy sterling silverware flanked bone fine
china. Linen cloth origami cranes decorated each plate. A colorful bouquet of
deeply hued roses and dahlias nested at the table’s center.

It
was obvious her mother had put a lot of thought and effort into the display.

Maia
emerged from the kitchen with a tray of rolls.

Tess
tendered the olive branch. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,”
Maia said shortly.

Well,
so much for that avenue.

Her
brother darted out of the way as she charged past. “Whoa Ma, where’s the fire?”