Broken (20 page)

“I’ll see you at work.”

Smiling softly, he strokes along my jaw. “You will.”

**********

Arriving home after an unusually busy day at work, I head straight to my bedroom and collapse onto the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted in all my life. I’m physically and emotionally drained.

Lying back on the mattress, my hands tucked behind my head, I try to process everything I’ve learned about James. I accept it, but I can’t even begin to understand. I’ve never felt anything like the feelings he expressed. Sure, I’ve been down, sad, lonely at times…but nothing has
ever
made me contemplate ending it all. I’ve always been able to see the other side, to know that nothing lasts forever. The things James described seem completely incomprehensible to me.

I have so many questions. Questions I’m not sure James will be able to answer. He’s on a different side than I am. He’s
living
with his illness, not looking at it through a window like me.

Figuring the best place to start is the internet, I shuffle into a sitting position and pull my laptop out of its carry-case next to my bed. The top hits are trusted sites like the NHS and Mind so I start there. The descriptions and symptoms are rather clinical and I keep searching until I find the support links for friends and relatives of people with mental illnesses.

Eventually, I end up on a forum, reading through other people’s experiences and situations. Some of the stories fill my gut with sadness and fear and it makes me question, once again, if I’m strong enough to do this.

“Someone die?”

My gaze flits to the doorway and finds Tess standing there, shrugging out of her coat.

“Please tell me you’re not killing off Sam’s brother.”

“What?” My brain is too frazzled to decipher riddles just now.

“You look like you do when you’re murdering one of my favourite characters.”

“I’m not writing.”

After kicking off her shoes and leaving them where they land, she jumps on the bed, propping herself up next to me and staring at the screen. “Oh my God, who are you making crazy? Bet it’s Natasha. She’s screamed nutjob since book one.”

Huffing, I snap the laptop closed. “I’m not researching for a book.”

“Well who else do you know that’s crazy?”

“Stop saying that,” I snap, immediately relenting. “Sorry.”

Her playful expression turns abruptly serious. “What’s going on, T?”

“James told me he’s bipolar last night.”

“Holy shit,” she mutters, then blows through puckered lips.

“Christ, Tess, some of the things he told me…it terrifies me.”

“You think he could hurt you?”

“No, no.” I shake my head. “I think he could hurt
himself
. Hell, he
is
hurting, in his mind. It worries me that I don’t know what to do, how to help him.”

“So, he’s depressed?”

“Not right now. I don’t
think
so anyway. But from what he told me he could go down that path again, and if he does, what do I do? We’re not just talking about being a little down in the dumps. He’s been to some really dark places and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to deal with that if it happens again.”

“Don’t suppose you could just walk away?”

“No! Fucking hell, Tess, I’m not a heartless bastard.”

“No, you’re not, but you can’t stay with him out of sympathy.”

“That’s not why and you damn well know it. I told
you
how I felt about James before I even told
him
. I can’t just switch that off.”

“How can you be certain? That he’s ‘the one’ I mean.
Why
are you with him?”

“I just
know
.” I don’t know why James and I are together. We’re not particularly similar, we lead different lives, have different interests. There’s just something there. A spark. A
pull
. It’s been there since the first time I saw his face. It’s baffling, yet undeniable. “Does there need to be a reason?”

“I guess not, but I had to be sure, Theo. You’re my best friend and it would kill me to see you get hurt, whether he means to or not.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t mean whether to stay with him, I’ve made that decision, it’s just…”

“You should talk to Tom.”

“Seriously? You think my whore of a brother is the best person to get relationship advice from?”

“No, dickhead, I think your
doctor
of a brother is the best person to get mental health advice from.”

Hmm.
“I think he actually worked on a psychiatric ward during his second year.”

“I’m not suggesting he’s an expert in the field, but he’ll be able to help you better than I can. All I can do is listen.”

Smiling, I take her hand in mine. I don’t think James has ever had anyone to just
listen
. The notion makes my chest ache and I appreciate Tess all the more.

“I don’t think Tom and I have ever discussed anything serious before,” I say, unsure of how I will broach the subject with him.

“Bullshit. You told him you were gay before anyone else.”

How did I forget that? “Yeah, I did.” And he was amazing. Maybe I’m underestimating his qualities as a brother. “He said he didn’t care as long as I didn’t eye-fuck his friends,” I add, chuckling at the memory.

“And did you?”

“If you’d seen the friends he used to have you wouldn’t need to ask me that. One of them, Nate I think he was called, had a lazy eye and enough grease in his hair to fry eggs.”

“Wow. Hot.”

Sighing, I put my laptop on the floor and shuffle down the bed, rolling onto my side to face Tess. Draping one arm over her waist, I pull her in for a hug.

“Don’t get comfy,” she says. “I need a wee.”

Rolling my eyes, I jab her in the back with my finger. “Twat.”

“Bellend.”

**********

The next morning while I’m getting ready for work, I notice the copy of
Promises
James gave to me sitting on the kitchen counter. I left it there last night in an exhausted daze. Stroking the glossy cover, I shake my head, still unable to believe that not only have I met its author, I’ve fallen in love with him.

Opening the cover, my eyes wash over his neat handwriting.

Theodore. I can’t give you any promises, but I can give you my heart. Take care of it for me. JD Simmons.

I suck in a deep breath and hold it there, unintentionally, until I feel a little dizzy. “I’ll do my best,” I whisper to nobody. But knowing what I know now, this seems like such a huge responsibility. I hope I don’t let him down.

This book seems too precious to stand with my others on the cheap pine shelves, so I take it to my bedroom and tuck it under my pillow, where it will stay until I figure out where to keep it. I haven’t decided whether to tell Tess about James’ secret author life yet, or rather, I haven’t decided
when
. I tell her everything. James knows that, but I should probably ask him if he’s okay with her knowing first.

Several minutes later, my phone rings while I’m jogging down the stairwell. It’s Tom, returning my earlier call. We chat as I make my way to the car and he tells me he’s working all evening so if I need to see him urgently, I’ll need to meet him at the hospital. I agree because it
is
urgent. I need answers. Guidance. I need
hope.

Driving to work, I’m unsure of everything, but certain of
one
. I can’t wait to see James’ face again.

Unfortunately, when I step out onto the marketing floor, the first face I see is Mike’s. “You’re in submissions today. They’re short staffed and the coffee machine’s packed in. You need to arrange a replacement.”

I can tell by his smug expression that he thinks he’s inconveniencing me, but in truth the thought of spending my day in submissions excites me. “No problem.” My accompanying smile makes his eyes narrow and I turn back to the lifts with a shit-eating grin on my face. Clearly, his plan was to piss me off, show me who’s boss.

He failed.
Wanker.

The coffee machine issue is resolved within an hour but I stay where I am. I like it here. I like the people, the work they’re doing. Anthony is the head of the department down here and it’s refreshing to work under someone who isn’t a complete arsehole. By the end of the day, I’ve built quite a rapport with Anthony and I manage to convince him to let me sift through the slush pile. The majority of submissions are processed electronically and come through literary agents, but we still receive several hundred unsolicited manuscripts through the post every month.

After searching through them for half an hour, I agree that the majority deserve to be here, but a couple catch my eye and I stuff them in a carrier bag so I can read them at home. I’m not stupid enough to think I have any say in what happens to them, but if I believe in any of them I can try my best to fight the author’s corner.

“Theodore?”

I look up to the sound of my name. The floor is almost empty, with only myself, a woman whose name I’ve forgotten, and now James.

“What are you doing down here? I’ve been looking for you. I assumed you’d gone home.”

Standing up, I walk over to him. “They were short staffed down here,” I explain. “And Anthony said I could look through these.” I hold up the carrier bag with an eager smile on my face.

James rubs his thumb over my lips. “I like that smile.”

Coughing nervously, I take a step back. “What are you doing?” I whisper, tossing an inconspicuous nod towards the woman working at her desk in the corner of the large floor.

“People are going to find out eventually, Theodore.”

A small frown forces its way onto my face. “Not yet. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

“And that would be?”

“That I’m screwing the boss to get a promotion.”

“I don’t work like that. You’ll get a promotion when you’ve
earned
one, just like everyone else.”

“
I
know that, but they don’t know that I know that, and they don’t know that you know I know that.”

James chuckles, tipping his head to the side. “You could repeat that three times and I’m still not sure I’d understand a word you just said.”

Damn, the smile on his face dives straight into my soul. Chewing on my bottom lip, I stare at him, my cock growing a little bigger with each blink of my eyes.

“If you don’t want people to know, I suggest you stop looking at me like you want to drop to your knees and suck my dick right here, right now.”

I know my nameless colleague won’t be able to hear from across the room but, regardless, my eyes dart to where she sits.

“Come home with me and maybe I’ll let you do just that,” James adds with a wicked glint in his eye.

“I can’t. I’m meeting my brother to discuss-”
Shit
. “Stuff.”

“To discuss
me
.”

“No. Not really. I mean, well, I just…”

“It’s okay, Theodore. I’m glad you have someone that you can talk to about this, because sometimes I won’t be able to.”

His words hit me like a punch to the stomach.

“He’s a doctor. I’m sure he’ll be able to address any questions you have.” James knows all about Tom, my whole family in fact. Whenever we talk about
his
family, somehow he always manages to switch the attention back to mine. “Maybe call me when you get home? If you want to of course.”

“I
will
want to,” I say, missing the sound of his voice already.

“Can I at least walk you to your car? Or does that imply you’re fucking your boss?”

“Fuck off,” I spit, my smile betraying the impact of my insult. “I’ll meet you at the lift.”

First, I need to tidy away the files I’ve been digging through.

**********

At the hospital, I wait in the staffroom for Tom after introducing myself to one of the nurses. I’ve been here for an hour so far. I’ve checked Facebook, Twitter, and Digital Spy for any interesting celebrity gossip, and now I’m comparing the length of my fingers on both hands to see if they match.

“Hey, Theo.”

I look up to see Tom bustling through the door, his green scrubs smeared with blood. My inquisitive mind wonders whose blood it is, what caused it, if they survived.

“RTA,” Tom says, opening one of the metal lockers at the other side of the room. He steps out of his dirty scrubs and tosses them in what looks like a bin on wheels.

“They okay?”

Plucking a clean set of scrubs out of the locker, he throws them on quickly. “He’s in surgery. Doesn’t look good though.”