When her door closes, I review the postcards again, looking for anything unusual. There’s nothing descript. She’s playing her games and trying to get into my head. Anger boils inside. This is not what I want to deal with right now. “Your immature bullshit is the last thing on my mind,” I mumble to myself, dumping it back in the envelope, and deciding to tell Evin after we’ve worked through my stupidity.
The door flies open and Dante stumbles in, falling to the floor and looking haggard. “I had to quit. He broke me.”
“Dante,” I scream, for the first time wishing for my crutch to support my urgency. By the time I make it to him, he’s rolled over. He’s a sweaty, dirty, heaving mess.
“I tapped out at the third turn of the track. Evin’s a beast.”
“Are you okay?” I slide my leg out, keeping it straight while crouching and balancing on my good leg. Jesse and I worked on this last week, and it’s coming in handy.
“Pips, you need to prepare. He’s loaded with something even I can’t identify.”
My hand cups my poor best friend’s cheek and I smile. “I’ll handle it. Do you need help getting up?”
“No, I’m heading out before the shit hits the fan. He didn’t talk much, but he’s been sending a lot of texts. The adrenaline fueling his body is lethal. He’s doing those trails until he works it out of himself.”
“Maybe I should go to him.”
“You should let him do what he needs to do. I told him what happened after he left. He knows you’re waiting.”
He rises, helping me to my feet, noticing my missing crutches but not mentioning it.
“I’ll get you water.”
“This is not how I saw my night off going. Thought we’d be drunk by now.”
“How about coming by tomorrow? We need to talk about the studio plans.” He takes the water I offer, downing it in a few gulps.
“Sounds good. If things are settled around here, I’d like to take you to the new complex. They have a sick lighting and sound system that would be perfect in the front room.”
A ripple of excitement travels through me. “That would be great.”
“And, Pips, the timing sucks, but we have to talk the business side, the legalities, and the finances.”
“One thing at a time. If I bring up finances with Evin right now, he’s sure to blow.”
He nods. “Love you, girl. Stop trying to be Wonder Woman.”
“I’ll never stop striving for perfection, but my perspective is different now. Thanks for not glossing over my bitchiness.”
He winks, kisses me on the forehead, and leaves. I text Evin, encouraged that he’s been texting.
I love you and I’m sorry.
He never responds.
“Poppy, wake up.”
“Ryanne?”
“Yes, let me help you to bed.”
Panic sets in, my body bolting up. “Where’s Evin?”
My eyes are heavy, but they easily read the sadness in her face. “He’s in bed.”
“He came home and didn’t wake me? Did he eat? Is he okay? “
“Yes, he came home and it wasn’t pretty. He put the plate you made him in the refrigerator. My guess is no, he’s not okay.”
“Why didn’t he wake me?”
“I don’t know, but he watched you sleep for a full five minutes before he disappeared into your room.”
My legs swing over, and when I stand, I cry out at the pain. She’s at my side, supporting my weight as fiery sensations blaze up my right leg. There’s a loud banging from my room, Evin appearing immediately. He takes one look at the situation, grabs my crutches, and hands them to Ryanne, turning back without a word.
“He’s not carrying me to bed.”
She’s quiet, helping me balance and urging me forward. The scent of lavender incense from earlier lingers in the air but does nothing to calm me.
“Good luck.” She leaves with an encouraging squeeze.
Evin’s body is facing the wall, and he doesn’t budge when I get in, sitting close.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for the way you feel. I’m sorry, too.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I did plenty wrong, starting with missing the signs you were so unhappy.”
Unhappy. That fucking word is like a branded Scarlett letter. “Those things I spewed earlier, they weren’t meant to come out that way.”
“Poppy, it’s late. I’m wiped. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Our life in Charleston is everything to me.” I push, hoping he’ll understand
Silence.
“Will you please roll over and look at me?”
He rotates a few inches, giving me his face. The guarded reflection in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve seen and slices deep. Knowing it’s my fault hurts worse than any pain I’ve ever felt.
“I lied to you earlier. It wasn’t a lie at the time, but now it’s clear. My over-eagerness and hyper-drive for intense therapy were to prove something. You were right. The challenge fueled my arrogance. Subconsciously, it took me back to the seventeen-year-old girl who had everything to prove. The next four years of my life were a constant strive for perfection and approval. It wasn’t until Cirque that I shed the pressure on myself. Today, in that office, it unintentionally came back in spades. Dante helped me realize the truth. I want to impress with my recovery, but more so, I wanted to prove that Tasha can’t beat me.”
“She’s not a factor here. This is about you.”
“I know and tonight it all came into perspective. She tried to seduce you, only to be humiliated. Her ridiculously childish intent to trip me damaged my ability to perform on a stage career, but you gave me another career. She tried to sabotage your reputation, and that backfired, working out to your advantage. It’s annoying that she’s out there trying to wreak havoc because she’s a self-absorbed bitch. But for the first time in her life, she’s losing.
“What happened earlier, the way I lashed out… I don’t even know who that person was. Nothing about our lives is menial, and everything we do gives me purpose. Please don’t let the awful things said ruin us.”
His eyes warm, and he fully turns, bringing his hand to my cheek. “Jesus, Poppy. You’re my wife, not my seventh-grade girlfriend. Nothing will ruin us.”
His words send relief racing through me. My palm goes to his chest, covering his heart and my flower. “I’m really sorry.”
“Your condition is a setback; it doesn’t make you helpless nor crippled.”
“That was multiple personality Poppy. Let’s hope she never makes an appearance again.”
“She said some things that made sense, specifically Rexwell controlling your fate.”
“That was overly dramatic. We know it’s the therapist who truly holds the cards at this point.”
“Maybe, but I called him. Talked it through. If you want to come back for therapy after Thanksgiving, he’s onboard.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“To be closer to him. You could resume some light workouts with your Cirque trainers and get the water training.”