Cravings of the Heart (Trials of Fear Book 5)

by Nicky James

  “Thank you, sir, for apologizing. It means a lot. And I love your son very much. I only want the best for him.”

  He clasped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Come on inside and eat. Brunch should be ready, and you are family.”

  The explosion of chaos when we walked inside was immediate. Kids’ voices rang loud from the front room, yelling over each other as the familiar musical tune of Mario Kart filled the air. The choppy rhythm of an unpracticed piano piece battled for attention as someone else yelled at the player to be quiet.

  Phoenix’s laughter rang from deeper in the house, and when Arden’s happy, musical voice chimed in a beat later, tension released in my chest. I followed Nelson down the hall to the massive dining room where the rest of the McMillan clan had gathered.

  Arden leaned beside Phoenix at the table, shoving him and teasing him about something while Carrie helped Evelyn spread multiple dishes out over the surface of the long table. When Arden caught my eye, he jumped up and ran to my side, clasping my hand and tugging me to his level so he could whisper in my ear.

  “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “Nothing happened. We’re all good.” I kissed his forehead and smiled, brushing his feathery hair from his face. “Your dad apologized and welcomed me into your home… as family.”

  Arden’s jaw unhinged. “No shit. Hell really did freeze over?” He whipped his head around to look at Phoenix who winked and sipped a glass of water his wife had just set down for him.

  “Come sit,” Arden urged.

  Evelyn called the rest of the family for the meal, and thunderous feet charged into the room as all the kids found a place to sit. I sat between Arden and Phoenix and noted Arden had his own plate set in front of him containing two neatly cut pieces of toast and one charred strip of bacon.

  “What the hell happened to your bacon?”

  Phoenix chuckled at my exclamation.

  “I had Mom cook it extra long for me.”

  “It’s burnt. She killed it.”

  “Do you want me to try it or not? I can’t have any possible chance of bacteria left alive on there. None. My brain can’t take it. Do you know what kind of food poisoning you can get from meat if it’s not cooked right? Do you want me to explain?”

  “All right, smarty pants. I believe you. No need for a rundown. I’m just glad you’re willing to try.”

  Once everyone settled, Nelson led the family in a prayer which included a note of thanks for bringing everyone together and emphasized love and acceptance for all. Arden squeezed my hand under the table.

  Then, the meal began. It was a war zone trying to fill plates. I laughed as I waited for Phoenix to snag dishes and pass them my way. I wasn’t used to such crazy meal times being an only child, but it was fun.

  Arden nibbled his toast, sipped his Ensure, and poked his bacon a few times, warily. When he’d made it through one full piece of toast, I nudged him. “Try it.”

  His knee knocked against mine as it bounced under the table. I gripped his thigh, squeezing for encouragement, silently reminding him I was there and he was safe.

  Phoenix noticed Arden’s struggles and leaned across me, whispering, “We’ve got your back, Arden. No one here will let anything happen to you.”

  Their eyes locked and Phoenix nodded at the single strip of blackened bacon on his plate. Arden broke off the tiniest piece and held it, glaring at it as his throat worked around a few noticeable swallows.

  Scanning the table, I saw most of the kids staring. His parents pretended to look occupied in conversation, but I knew they watched too.

  Arden’s lower lip trembled, and he closed his eyes, breathing out a few long breaths. Then, he popped the tiny piece into his mouth and ate it. His eyes watered, but he didn’t gag. However, the death grip he held on my hand was telling.

  Once it was down, Arden didn’t waste time breaking off more and eating it. He’d told me, sometimes faster was better.

  When the piece was gone, he trembled visibly and a few tears escaped, running down his cheeks. I knew he would probably come apart before long, so when he excused himself, I rose from the table as well. Before Arden could leave the room, the youngest McMillan, Forest, called out.

  “Arden?”

  Arden stopped and shifted back, his control slipping along with more tears. “Yeah, bud?”

  “Are you gonna puke now?”

  Arden shook his head with determination. “Not if I can help it.”

  Forest thought about that and said, “Good. I don’t like it when you’re sick.”

  “Me either.”

  Then he dashed down the hall.

  I peered around the table. Arden’s mom looked concerned, so I gave her a gentle smile. “He’ll be okay. It’s emotionally taxing is all. I’ll check on him.”

  I found him in the back sunroom, sitting on a lounge chair. His knees were drawn to his chest, and his tears fell freely as his body shook.

  “Fuck, I hate this,” he said when he saw me. He batted his eyes and dropped his head to his knees. “Everything just gets all shaken inside, and I can’t help it.”

  I shuffled him over and sat with him, wrapping my arm around his small body and tugging him to my side. “It won’t always be this hard. You should be proud, not ashamed. You’re doing amazing.”

  “Yeah, I ate one piece of charred bacon, and now I’m having a breakdown. Woohoo, go me. Such a winner.”

  I chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “Are you done being a negative Norman?”

  “Isn’t it negative Nelly?”

  I pinched his side making him laugh through his tears. My heart swelled because he no longer hid that smile from me.

  “How about looking at it like this. You ate one piece of bacon which you haven’t done in six years. That’s a celebration.”

  “I didn’t even gag. It was terrifying, but I didn’t once get tight in my stomach.”

  “See, it’s an accomplishment.”

  He sighed and snuggled closer. “I guess it is.”

  “Take a minute and collect yourself and then let’s get back to the table. You still have more toast to eat and the rest of your drink.”

  “Such a hard ass.”

  “You think so? How about this for hard ass. You manage one more piece of bacon, and we can spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. I will worship you and make you come so many times you’ll forget all about your worries.”

  Arden’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he slapped a hand over my mouth. “Jeez… My parents are in the other room.”

  We both burst out laughing. “So?”

  “So, I can’t believe you’re rewarding me with sex. I’m in. Don’t tell Phoenix. He’ll make fun of me.”

  “Yeah cuz I’m gonna tell Phoenix all about my adventures with your ass. Not likely.”

  We laughed again and stood, sharing a few kisses before heading back into the dining room to be with Arden’s family and share the rest of brunch.

  I think, deep down, Arden took comfort in being surrounded by family. Knowing he had their support meant everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Arden

  “Text me when it’s over, and I’ll come pick you up,” Iggy said, tugging my knitted hat down over my ears when I shivered.

  I stared up at the building where Dr. Kelby had her practice, bouncing on my toes. The cool October air bit at my face every time the wind blew. The sun had gone down an hour ago, and without its warm rays beating down on us, it felt cold enough to snow even though it was technically still fall.

  I was attending my first group therapy session and couldn’t shake the nervous butterflies swarming my stomach. It’d made eating dinner impossible, so Iggy and I had decided to put it off until after the meeting. I was nothing but a tight ball of tension ready to explode, and Iggy was hard-pressed to leave my side.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “I know, but it will be okay. This group therapy thing is meant for all those people who are
going to that phobia conference thing in the spring, right? So everyone here is tackling their own phobias. Everyone is walking the same road you are in their own way. No one will judge you. You’re all on the same page.”

  “I know. It’s just weird talking to strangers. I’ve spent six years deflecting. Being straightforward is still embarrassing. I mean, seriously, what kind of person fears food?”

  “The kind of person who suffered a severely traumatic event surrounding food and lost a loved one. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I bet these people all have their own stories and harbor the same sense of awkwardness you do.”

  “I guess. It’s just the talking about it part. Admitting it. Owning it.”

  Iggy chuckled. “Get used to telling your story, Arden. In April, you’ll be talking to a room full of doctors and helping them understand phobias more thoroughly. I’m so proud of you deciding to do this.”

  Iggy brushed his lips over mine and patted my bum to get me moving. “Let me know when you’re done, and I’ll come back. We can make dinner together once your mind and stomach are more settled.”

  “Okay.”

  Iggy kissed my nose and aimed me for the door.

  Reluctantly, I entered the building and took the stairs to the second level conference room where I was told we’d be meeting. There were supposedly sixteen people in the program who were set to take part in Dr. Kelby’s study and conference in the spring. All of us had been encouraged to attend group sessions once a week in the meantime as a means of finding a comfort level with each other and building positive supports with people going through similar experiences.

  Not everyone was at the same stage of healing, and some had chosen not to attend group therapy quite yet. This was my first meeting, but the group had been in place for a month.

  Dr. Kelby wasn’t the one running the sessions, but she had supervised the organizational process. They were being handled by her assistant, Adrian Anderson, a psychology student I apparently went to school with. Although, I’d never run into him outside of a few sessions when he’d sat in and observed Dr. Kelby’s process. He seemed like a nice guy. Young, smart, maybe a bit nerdy. Shy in a way.

  The meeting room wasn’t large, but it was cozy. Chairs had been set up in a circle over the taupe carpet while snacks and drinks lined a table on the far wall. There were men and women of all different ages helping themselves to treats as they milled about and chatted. Friendly conversations between people who’d met each other a time or two before.

  I was the new guy. Dr. Kelby had explained she had another new patient who was still reluctant to join. She was proud I was taking this step tonight.

  I avoided the food table.

  Over the past few months, I’d learned a lot about myself and my fears. I had a number of hard limits when it came to re-learning and trusting food. One of those limits was meal preparation. Although I’d slowly introduced new things into my daily meal plan, I couldn’t give up control of food prep to many people. Iggy and my mom were about the only two I trusted.

  My mother had come a long way in accepting my disorder. We talked a lot, and she always went out of her way to make sure I felt safe with the foods I ate if I visited.

  Meal preparation meant checking dates, visibly examining foods, smelling them, and basically assessing their quality for anything that might stand out as unsafe. If I ate meat—which wasn’t often—it had to be over-cooked to the point of being dry and practically burnt so I knew the bacteria was properly taken care of. It was the only way I could make my brain understand it was safe.

  Expiration dates had to have a large window of time before they went bad, and baked goods or casseroles were something I couldn’t handle. Mixing items was another hard limit.

  Canned goods, eggs, seafood, and most produce were not within my realm of acceptable foods either and might never be.

  Yet, Dr. Kelby reminded me weekly.

  I wasn’t sure a day would come when they’d ever feel safe.

  “Good evening, everyone,” Adrian called from the middle of the room. He was well-dressed in tan slacks and a button-up shirt and tie. His dark-framed glasses were a tad askew, but he fixed them as people turned their attention to him. “If everyone could find their seat, we can get started.”

  People gathered and sat in the circle of chairs. I chose one far from the food table so I didn’t need to smell the wafting odors of sweets.

  A man with flaming red hair like Forest’s sat beside me, his hoodie drawn up over his head and sunglasses hiding his face—which was odd. He hunched over his lap and rested his elbows on his knees as he scanned the other people.

  I scanned too, taking note of the other faces around me and wondering just how alike we all were. When my gaze fell to the built nurse with the tattoos I recognized from the hospital, I flinched. He caught my eye and winked. I thought his name was Ireland. Why the hell was he here?

  Ireland had pulled his chair outside the circle so he was further from other people. He looked comfortable otherwise with his feet kicked out in front and his arms crossed over his chest.

  A black woman sat beside him, fingers clasped together and gaze tentative as she scanned the room as well. Beside her was a man in a suit and finger-messed hair. He seemed calm, unlike me. The girl beside him looked to be closer to my age. She had a button nose and squinty eyes. When she tucked her curly brown hair behind her ears and sat upright, I noticed florescent pink earplugs in both her ears.

  I puzzled for a minute until she caught my eye and smiled. Embarrassed I’d been caught staring, I jetted my gaze away as my cheeks flamed.

  All in all, we were a random bunch of seemingly ordinary people. Yet, all of us had our own struggles inside. We were all in the same boat.

  Adrian took control of the room once everyone was settled. “Welcome. I’m glad you could all be here tonight. We have a new person joining us this evening.” His gaze turned to me, and my heart skipped. “Welcome, Arden.”

  I gave a small wave and mumbled hello.

  “I don’t want Arden to feel put on the spot, so maybe we can take a minute and go around the room and introduce ourselves. Feel free to share your struggles and your personal phobias if you’d like. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing so we can help Arden feel more at ease. We all know what it was like during our first session. It’s daunting, and you feel alone with your fears. Does anyone want to start?”

  Ireland tipped his chin and grinned as he sat forward. “I’ll take the bullet. My name is Ireland Hayes. We’ve met briefly. I’ve been struggling with what is called haphephobia, or fear of touch, for almost my entire life. It’s an ongoing battle for me that began from a traumatic incident that happened to me as a child. I have a tendency to get better for long periods of time, then I get slammed with a setback out of the blue. I’ve been meeting with Dr. Kelby for over five years, and she’s helped tremendously. I’m glad to be here and to have found other people I feel safe talking to. It’s comforting to know I’m not alone. We’re glad to have you here, Arden.”

  I blushed and nodded when he winked again. I wondered if Iggy knew Ireland was part of this. They seemed to be acquainted.

  “Thank you, Ireland. It’s good to have you here.”

  The younger girl with the earplugs stuck her hand up and smiled shyly. When she spoke, it was in a soft, almost airy voice. “I’ll go next. I’m Anastasia. I’m nineteen. I have phonophobia which is a fear of loud sounds. I’ve been a patient of Dr. Kelby’s for two years, and she’s brought me further than I ever knew was possible. It’s nice to meet you, Arden.”

  “Thank you, Anastasia. Finn, would you like to go next?” Adrian asked the man who sat between Ireland and Anastasia.

  Finn was the well-dressed man I’d noted earlier. He sat straighter and smiled.

  “My name is Finnley Hollins or Finn, and I have been struggling with somniphobia for most of my adult life which is a fear of falling asleep. It took a long time to be comfortable admitting it, so please kno
w you aren’t alone here, and no one will judge you.”

  I nodded when he smiled again. Fear of falling asleep? Wow. Hearing other people’s stories helped me feel more comfortable admitting my own.

  Before I could consider jumping in and speaking them aloud, the redheaded man beside me sat up and drew his hood down before speaking.

  “Name’s Rory. I have heliophobia or fear of sunlight, derived from an incident I went through in college.” He immediately ducked his head again.

  “Thank you, Rory.” A smile formed on Adrian’s lips and his cheeks warmed before he cleared his throat and turned to me. “You looked like you were about to speak. Did you want to introduce yourself?”

  “Um… sure. Hi, I’m Arden, and I have cibophobia or fear of food. I’m a new patient to Dr. Kelby, but she literally saved my life not too long ago.”

  “You’re the one doing the hard work, Arden,” Adrian said.

  “I know. Um… it’s nice to meet everyone. It’s taken a lot for me to admit my problems. I spent a lot of years hiding them, but I’m glad to be here.”

  I nodded, deciding that was enough for now, and sank back in my seat as the next person took their turn.

  It was enlightening to hear about the vast array of phobias the other people in the room dealt with every day. The more we took turns talking and sharing, the more relaxed I became. There was a guy in a wheelchair named Roger who suffered from a fear of standing up, a woman, Brenda, with an extreme fear of heights and another man named Dalton with a fear of holes—which was really intriguing when I considered it—and many more.

  For an hour, we chatted and talked casually about our diagnoses and our ongoing treatments. The conference in April was nerve-wracking for more than just me, so I was glad to see I wasn’t alone.

  By the time the meeting ended and I texted Iggy to come get me, I was feeling much better about the whole process and looked forward to our next session the following week.

  “Do you need a ride?” a guy asked as I waited outside by the curb.