Unhinged (Necessary Evils #1)(46)

The conversation went back and forth, his anger growing to rage, his voice ratcheting higher with each passing minute. Then Adam was just gone, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Noah alone without so much as a goodbye. Part of him expected it. Who the fuck would want to deal with something like this? Noah didn’t and he was equipped with the necessary emotions to process it. But Adam wasn’t. He didn’t understand how Noah felt. He literally couldn’t. That wasn’t Adam’s fault.

In the silence, the voices in Noah’s head—the laughter, the orders—only grew louder until Noah thought he might scream. He threw the covers off, padding down the stairs in his underwear, heading to the most logical place for Adam to store medications. His bathroom. He had to be quick. He didn’t know when or if Adam would return quickly. He wrenched open the medicine cabinet, making a noise of frustration when he saw nothing but Advil and a box of condoms. There was nothing in the drawers or under the sink either.

He went to the kitchen next, opening every drawer and cabinet except the one over the refrigerator. That would be the last resort. Adam had to have alcohol there somewhere. When he opened the freezer, he gave a triumphant cry. A bottle of top shelf vodka, still sealed. Noah didn’t think twice about cracking it open, taking two heavy pulls, letting them burn their way to his stomach, praying that this would put the lid back on his memories like it had before. He took it back to bed with him, clutching the frigid glass to his chest as he continued to watch cartoons, truly having no interest in anything heavier than Rugrats and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

The more he drank, the more he enjoyed the cartoons of his childhood. By the time Adam’s apartment door swung open, Noah was well and truly drunk. There was a strange rustling sound as he walked back upstairs, stopping short when he saw the vodka bottle. “I see you found my brother’s stash.”

Noah shrugged, body numb. “Which brother? You have, like, twenty.”

Adam snickered. “Archer. Our degenerate gambler. A role he takes a lot of pride in.” He set his two plastic grocery bags on the bed, scooting the laptop out of his way to sit. “How drunk are you?”

Noah held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Pretty drunk. You left me.”

Adam didn’t flinch at the accusation in his words. “I was mad. Blackout mad. I knew I couldn’t control it, and you were already stressed enough, so I went and drove around and listened to some angry music. Then I called my dad and asked him what I should do about you.”

“Do about me?” Noah echoed, wondering if that only sounded harsh because his brain was pickled.

Adam sighed. “Not…about you. For you? I don’t know how to help you through this. I want to help you.”

Noah’s eyes filled with tears at the sincerity in his voice. “What did he say?”

Adam sneered. “A bunch of shit about recovered memories and you needing to process them with a trained therapist and that I wasn’t qualified to deal with what you’re going through.”

Noah’s heart shriveled in his chest. “Oh.”

Adam scoffed. “Yeah, oh. So, I hung up on him and called Calliope.”

Noah swiped at the tears on his cheek, wondering how he had any left. “What did she say?”

Adam pulled out his phone, reading from it like he’d made some kind of list. “She said to wrap you in a…blanket burrito? To buy your favorite things to eat. To hold you if you wanted it. To leave you alone if you didn’t. She said if you wanted to stay in bed all day and cry, I should let you, but that I shouldn’t leave you alone to deal with this. So, I stopped at the store and then came back as fast as I could.”

Noah’s chest ached. Adam had called two people to find out what humans did when other humans were hurting. Was that romantic? What the fuck did Noah know? It felt sweet. “What’s in the bags?”

Adam brightened up a bit. “I didn’t know what you liked, so”—he upended the bags in the center of the bed—“I got a little of everything.”

A small laugh escaped as a pile of candy appeared between them on the bed. So much chocolate—the cheap kind and the expensive stuff Noah could never afford—plus Blow Pops, Ring Pops, Twizzlers, Swedish fish. It was every kid’s fantasy come true.

“If you don’t like any of this, just tell me what you want and I can have it delivered here in an hour. Anything. And if you’re hungry, we can order from anywhere you want.”

“This is good. I like all these things. Except the Swedish fish. Those are all yours.” To prove his point, he grabbed a chocolate bar and unwrapped it, taking a bite, surprised to find he was hungry and the sugary treat hit the spot.

Adam took the bottle of vodka from Noah’s lap, but he didn’t put it away, just took a swig before setting it back down between them.

“You’re not going to lecture me on drinking my problems away?” Noah asked.

“No. If this is what you need to cope, then I’ll keep you safe while you do it.”

Noah’s heart ached, and his chin wobbled for the thousandth time that day. “Thanks.”

Adam nodded. After a minute, he said, “My parents abused me when I was little, before my dad adopted me. It was bad. Netflix documentary level bad. But even back then, I knew I was different because the others felt sad and scared and cried. But I just felt rage.”