Shit.
Reaching over, I slide her across the seat, lift her, and shut my door behind us as I carry her toward her apartment. Mika walks out just as I reach Whit’s door, and Whit calls to her.
“Mika! Did that old hag make you get her meds?”
Mika’s eyes jerk toward us, and she stiffens. Ah, fuck. This probably looks really bad.
“Tell that whore to shut her cocksucker!” Mrs. Penderson yells from the open apartment door.
Mika just stares at me, and I start to speak, but Whit is on a mission to fight with an eighty-year-old lady.
“Whore? I’m the whore? You shoplifted aspirin after you wore your vagina out at the Bingo party!”
“You wore your vagina out before you even hit twenty! At least my vagina is still smiling at me. Yours is dragging the ground!”
Fucking disgusting.
“Mika,” I call out, trying to stand Whit up against her door, but it’s like my voice snaps her out of her trance and she walks quickly to her car.
Whit slips and starts to fall, and I barely catch her in time, unable to chase Mika without letting Whit crack her skull open on the concrete. “Mika!”
She still ignores me and gets in her car. She speeds away as Whit continues to goad the old lady who hasn’t shut her apartment door.
“Hag!” Mrs. Penderson yells.
“Bitch!” Whit retorts.
“Slut!”
“Wrinkly old cunt!”
“Cooter funk!”
At that last one, I pick Whit back up and fumble with her door, while cursing my night.
All I wanted was a fucking beer with a friend while I talked to him about bullshit. Instead, I’m stuck in the middle of a name-calling war between an old lady and my ex, while the girl I’ve been obsessed with for the majority of my life drives away like she can’t stand the thought of seeing me.
As if the universe wants to add a dramatic effect to punctuate my shitty night, thunder rolls across the sky.
Fucking unbelievable.
Every second that ticks by is just another second for me to get pissed. By the time I’ve put Whit into bed, I’m furious.
Apparently Mika thinks I’m still the same sweet boy that I once was with her.
Maybe it’s fucking time I show her I’ve changed too.
Chapter 30
MIKA
My heartbeat drums in my ears as the rain drops go from barely there to assaulting my car without mercy. I whirl into my driveway and park in the garage, pressing the button to shut the door as I walk through the garage entrance to my house.
Once upon a time, Chase James ripped my heart out. I was a kid then, and it felt like the world ended. I did a lot of stupid things after that night. I slept with anyone who paid me any attention. I drank and partied like my life wasn’t precious. And I lived from day to day with zero concern for the future.
Now here I am repeating history like the fool I can’t afford to be anymore. Only it’s a different sort of carelessness, and the stakes are unimaginably higher.
Whit is beautiful. She’s nice. She’s witty. I snort as I run that line in my head: Whit is witty.
It’s a sad laugh though. Whit is everything I can never be again. She’s perfect for Chase.
I stare in the mirror at the girl staring back at me. With shaky hands, I slowly pull my shirt up above my stomach, lifting it to be just below my breasts, and I stare at all the scars that mark my skin.
“Mika! Mika, no! What have you done?”
Aidan is yelling, but I’m in a cloud of euphoria, feeling the high of the pain as the blood trickles down from my waist. So much better. It all feels so much better. There’s no more pressure. I made it go away.
“I need an ambulance, at…”
Aidan’s voice trails off as I glance down at my stomach to where the small, shallow cuts are bleeding. I don’t need an ambulance. I need something to bottle this feeling so I can stay in this state forever, no longer worrying about the numbers, the urges, the constant unfinished things that never fucking go away.
She said she’d be here at ten. It’s after twelve. What did she expect to happen? Lydia is never punctual, the bitch. And we were supposed to finish that puzzle. I can’t make the pieces fit by myself. They need to fit. They need to. Can’t people understand you can’t simply leave something undone?
“I can’t make it fit by myself,” I say aloud, sighing dreamily as the high continues to course through me.
“Damn it, Mika! It’s just a fucking puzzle. That’s it! I’m calling Dr. Kravitz. You can’t fucking stay here anymore because I can’t watch you twenty-four hours a day, and I can’t keep people here like they’re supposed to be fucking doing no matter how much I pay them. It’s only getting worse. You can’t drive, you can’t eat without help, you can’t even give yourself a shower, Mika. This is…”
His words trail off, and I reach for the razor blade that’s resting on the tile, stained red by my own blood. One more cut. Just one more and I’ll be good.
That memory is from a year or so after the surgery that saved my life and changed it. The surgery that went wrong. The surgery that shouldn’t have been in the hands of a man who miraculously didn’t kill me.
At least the malpractice suit afforded my care so Aidan wasn’t forced to deal with the financial burden of my recovery.
Dr. Kravitz was convinced it wasn’t the surgery that messed me up. He still blames it on a psychological break that forced my mind to function differently. Others blame it on the surgery, especially since I struggled to relearn how to feed myself, drive a car and so much more.
It made me their science experiment to study, to debate, to question endlessly, and to push to my limits.
The curious case of Mika. That’s how they always referred to me.
All I know is that I found a way to cope without harming myself over and over. That’s in large part due to Dr. Kravitz pushing me past my limits daily.
Tears prick my eyes as I lower my shirt, and I swallow hard.
This is me. I’m not Whit. She’s normal and loving and Chase would be lucky to have her. I should have said something nice to them instead of making him feel guilty. It was obvious Whit was drunk, but it was also obvious he’d been with her.
What did I honestly expect? If Whit was a bitch, it’d be easy to want him away from her. She wouldn’t deserve him in my mind. But she actually deserves better than both of us and our ancient issues we left unresolved.
Moving toward the kitchen, I stare at the stove, wishing I was able to cook. It’s one of the things I lost the ability to do. Cooking involves numbers, times, and a lot of directions. I struggle to follow any directions.
It all used to be so easy. I cooked when I was looking for a stress release, and now I’ve had to find other ways to cope.
Writing.
It’s my one solace. It’s under my complete control.
Before I can head up the stairs, my front door swings open and slams into the wall. I squeal and remind myself to start locking that thing even if I have to resort to using sticky notes the way I used to.
When my eyes lock on a set of stormy blues, I swallow hard.
“I’m getting pretty sick of your fucking disappearing acts, Mika,” Chase growls while slamming my door behind him. “What the hell is your problem?”
Swallowing hard, I study his soaked blue T-shirt and jeans, and his hair is dripping wet. Why is he so wet?
“Nothing is my problem,” I say instead of commenting on the fact he’s soaked.
He brushes his dark hair away from his forehead, and he narrows his eyes on me.
“Stop lying to me, Mika. What the fuck is going on with you. Two days ago you were walking into my shop like everything between us was natural. You also straddled me and jacked me off at four that morning. Then you walk out of my shop without even answering me and haven’t called me since. Then tonight I see you, and you run off. Again. Start talking, because I’m not some bitch boy you can jerk around by his leash.”
“I’m not trying to jerk you around by a leash,” I bite out. “I just needed a few days… Then suddenly you’re carrying Whit home. Guess I’m not the only one who struggles with habits.”
He laughs bitterly, and I try to head toward the stairs, but the asshole blocks me before I can. Looking down at me, his eyes narrow.
“You know Whit and I are over. Don’t play like you don’t, Mika. I know exactly what’s going on with you right now.”
“Highly unlikely,” I mutter.
He steps closer, and I step back. “I did the same thing. Hell, I fucking freaked out that first day I saw you back in town. It shocked the fuck out of me. I ran, Mika. Literally. Went to a hotel out of town, cancelled my appointments, and spent two days trying to wrap my head around the fact you were in Hayden. Then I reminded myself over and over that you deserved a fuck-ton more than I could ever give you. My business makes decent money; I have a house with actual windows and floors; I pay for my own shit and have extra left over. But it isn’t ever going to afford much more than that, Mika.”
Anger slices through me, and this time I take a step toward him.
“Since I’ve known you, you’re the only one who has ever put a price tag on our relationship, so don’t put that off on me. I never gave a damn what your bank account looked like, Chase. Not even a little bit.”