Dirty Shots (27 page)

“For every article my daughter does, I’ll make sure there’s another explaining how Eric Rutherford coerced and manipulated her into doing those shoots.”

Anya’s heart lurched, her mind swimming at the idea. “Dad! Please, stop...”

Her cheeks burned, humiliation washing over her that they were having this conversation standing out on the street, random strangers catching snippets as they passed by. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes at the realization her dad still clearly hadn’t come around to her way of thinking.

“I believe that will be slander, Mr. Bergman,” Logan continued. “Anya is an adult and more than capable of making her own decisions.”

They both looked to her. “You know Eric didn’t force me, Dad. We’re in love. He’s as protective of me as you are.”

Trent Bergman snorted. “I highly doubt that. He’s almost ten years older than you, Anya!”

She bristled, her back straightening, shoulders back. “He’s eight years older than me, which, I believe, is about the age difference between you and Mom?”

“That’s completely different!”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Is it? How?”

“It just is.”

Anya frowned slightly. “And how is Mom? I haven’t heard anything from her, and she’s not responded to any of the texts I’ve sent her.”

“I’ve instructed her not to speak to you,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “She’s softer than I am, and I won’t have her making you think that we’re okay with you doing this.”

“You won’t let her speak to me? Does that mean she wants to?”

“She’s been brainwashed by that man as much as you have. But I won’t have it. I will not allow her to have a relationship with a child who behaves in such a way.”

Tears blurred Anya’s vision. “You can’t stop her.”

“Just watch me. I expect the women in my life to do as they’re told, and it seems you got your impertinence from her.”

Anya didn’t even know what to say, so she just stood, gaping at him. She’d always known he’d been strict, but this was something else. Was he really trying to control her mother, too? She never thought her mom would stand for such a thing.

Logan’s hand touched her waist, making her jump. She’d forgotten he was there.

“Come on, Anya. We’ve got more important things to do than stand on the sidewalk arguing with someone who clearly will never see sense.”

Feeling numb, she allowed Logan to guide her away from her father.

Who was this man? He’d never exactly been warm and loving, but this felt like an extreme. Was she only seeing the real man now, her love for him blinding her all these years?

Or had her own actions created the monster she’d found before her?

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E
ric had no idea how long he’d been working for when he finally looked up and realized Anya was no longer in the apartment.

He jumped to his feet, his hand locked in his hair. “Shit!”

Unable to contain the restless energy coursing through him, he began to pace, reaching one side of his apartment before turning and storming back again.

What had he said to her? He could barely remember. He recalled pushing her away, feeling frustrated and irritated that she wasn’t able to see or understand the importance of his work. He’d thought she, of all people, got what it meant for him to work as he did, but then she’d repeatedly interrupted him, and he’d started to lose his concentration, which only made him more angry and frustrated, and ...

He stopped, breathing heavily.

His train of thought had run on and on, never taking a moment’s break.

On the floor lay a broken plate, and an uneaten pastrami on rye scattered across the hardwood floor. Had he thrown the plate or dropped it? He couldn’t even remember how the crockery had gotten broken.

When was the last time he’d eaten? When was the last time he’d slept?

He had no idea. He wasn’t even sure what day it was.

Panic suddenly shot through him, his adrenaline causing his heart to race, his breath coming fast. When was the exhibition? Had he missed it already? Had he lost days to sitting at his work, trying to find perfection for something that had already passed him by?

And what about Anya? Where was she now?

Eric dropped to a crouch, both hands locked in his hair, and let out a roar of anger at himself. When was the last time he’d taken his medication? He was on a low dose now, being able to manage it mostly himself—or so he’d thought—but somewhere along the line he’d started to lose control again, and he hadn’t even noticed it happening.

Had he pushed her too far? Had he lost her?

Suddenly, all the work meant nothing if she wasn’t in his life. It was empty and soulless.

He
was empty and soulless.

The front door clicked and he twisted his head in the direction of the sound. The door swung open, and Anya entered, Logan close behind.

Eric slowly got to his feet to face them.

He experienced mixed emotions about seeing the two of them together. He was thankful she’d come back, and that Logan had obviously been looking out for her, but he also worried he’d messed up so badly, he’d sent her into his friend’s arms. Logan was probably a much better match for Anya—his best friend didn’t have any of his own fucked-up-ness—but Eric knew it would kill him if Anya left him for Logan.

Not that he would blame her, of course. She’d dealt with more than any woman should have had to since meeting him.

“Eric ...” she said, his name hanging in the air between them.

He pressed his lips together. “You came back.”

“Of course I did.”

His heart stuttered, his gut filling with dread. “Did you come to tell me something?”

She nodded. “Well, yes, I guess so.”

He took a breath and threw it out there. “You and Logan are a far better match than you and I.”

Anya and Logan shared a glance, both with matching expressions, lines between their brows, heads shaking.

Logan spoke first. “Eric, no. You’re wrong. There’s nothing between Anya and me. She came to me because she was worried about you. You’re my best friend. I would never do that to you.”

“And neither would I,” said Anya. “I love you more than anything. I thought you knew that.”

He hung his head in shame. “Then what do you need to tell me?”

Logan stepped forward. “That you’re sick again, Eric. Anya told me about your recent behavior. You know you’re cycling with your moods again. You need to up your meds before you end up hitting the wall, and you find you can’t get out of bed for a month.”

He closed his eyes briefly before answering. “I already know. I realized when I looked around and noticed Anya gone, and saw the mess I’d made. I’m so sorry, Anya.”

“It’s okay,” she said, softly. “I just wish you had told me.”

“I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

“I would never have thought badly of you. You must think more of me than that.”

He frowned slightly and shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t about you, or your reaction. I just didn’t want you to see me as anything less than the photographer you’d looked up to, or the man you’d gotten to know.”

She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and reached out and took his hands in hers. Her eyes met his. “I wouldn’t have, but if we’re to have a life together, I need to know about things like that. If you’d told me sooner, I could have spotted what was happening before it got too far. I would have made sure you got your sleep, and not tried to tempt you away from your gym sessions.”

“I don’t want you to mother me, Anya. That’s exactly what I was frightened of.”

“It’s not mothering. It’s taking care of someone I love.”

Logan joined in. “Same goes for me. We love you and we want to see you well. Your health is far more important than anything else.” He paused and then added, “We can always cancel the exhibition.”

But Eric shook his head. “The work is done. I want people to see it.” He caught Anya’s eye again. “As long as that’s okay with both of you.”

Anya smiled and his heart lifted. “Of course it’s okay with me. But you must promise to get help.”

“I’ll book an appointment with my doctor for first thing tomorrow.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist and he pulled her in, hugging her hard and kissing the top of her head. The adrenaline from his mania still caused his muscles to tense, his blood racing through his veins, but he felt better just by having Anya in his arms.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” said Logan. He pointed a finger at Eric. “Take your meds.”

Eric nodded. “I will.”

Anya peeled herself from him. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Anytime.”

Logan left the apartment and closed the door behind him.

“Go and take your medication, Eric,” she said.

He nodded. “I’m doing it now.”

He left her and went to the bathroom and took a double dose of the mood stabilizer which helped to bring down his manic phases. He knew it would take a few days before he truly felt like himself again, but at least he was on the right track.

He walked back into the apartment to find Anya wearing one of his t-shirts and her panties. She put out her hand to him. “Come on, Eric. Let’s go to bed.”

It wasn’t about sex this time. They just curled up together, holding each other.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” he asked her. “I have to make an appointment with my doctor, but it’s something I feel like I have to do alone.”

Anya smiled. “No mothering, right?”

“Right.”

She gave a small laugh. “Don’t worry. I have a certain someone I have to deal with.”

He frowned and looked down at her. “Promise me you won’t get into any trouble.”

“I’ll be fine, Eric. But I can’t let him get away with what he did. Gavin Hollis has to realize he can’t go around treating people like shit and getting away with it.”

Eric gave a laugh and pulled her closer. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but I’d be scared if I was him.”

She smiled. “So he should be.”

And Eric closed his eyes, and in Anya’s arms, he finally slept.

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T
he following day, Anya stepped back onto campus.

She felt self-conscious, in a way she never had before, as though she no longer truly belonged here, like an imposter everyone was staring at. She knew that was mainly down to the newspaper article Gavin had pasted all over the place, but moving in with Eric probably hadn’t helped.

Quickly, she glanced around, trying to see if any of the posters remained, but none stood out. Someone had taken them down—either her friend, Nadine, or else, she guessed, some of the faculty members. It didn’t matter anyway. After Saturday, everyone would know what she’d been up to. She just hoped any reporting of the exhibition would have a more positive spin than the article Jonathan Turner had written.

The afternoon was giving way to evening, and there weren’t many people around, but she knew Gavin finished practice about now and would be heading across campus to go back to his dorm.

She just had to wait.

Feeling conspicuous, she checked her phone to make sure Eric hadn’t called her. He’d been to see his doctor, and had the dosage on his meds adjusted, though it would take a few days for them to kick in. He seemed better, though. More in control. He’d been to the gym that morning, and though he’d had some small things to finish for the exhibition, he was aware of the time he allowed himself to do the work in.

Weirdly, since finding out about the bipolar, Anya felt more relaxed about their relationship. She’d always worried about his search for perfection, and that he would never have found what he sought in her, but now she knew it wasn’t really him that drove his quest for perfection. It was his illness. Neither of them was perfect, and they could be imperfect together. His reaction to seeing her with Logan had also made her more secure. She’d always wanted him to show some jealousy, however crazy that made her. Something to show she meant more to him than just a model or a prop. Eric had done that now.

Movement came across the lawn, a group of young men, laughing and shoving each other on the shoulder as they threw joking insults at each other.

Anya’s heart rate stepped up, her breath quickening. She pushed down her emotions, hiding them. She couldn’t allow him to see she was nervous.

“Gavin,” she called to the group. “Have you got a minute?”

The broad-shouldered quarterback stopped and stared at her. She’d deliberately worn the heels he’d called her a prostitute in the other day, and a short, tight fitting dress.

His teammates whooped and punched him again.

“Yeah, go, Gavin. The man!’”

“Someone’s getting some tonight!”

Anya did her best not to roll her eyes at their juvenile behavior.

“What do you want, Anya?” Gavin was a little more cautious, suspicious of seeing her there.

She forced herself to smile sweetly. “Don’t worry, Gavin. I’m not going to start a fight with you.”

“You’re not?”

“No, actually, I wanted to thank you.”

His mouth dropped. “You want to thank
me
?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

The other guys were still hanging around. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he told them.

A few more suggestive remarks were called over their shoulders as the young men walked away, but Anya ignored them.

Gavin faced her. “So, you wanted to thank me?” He didn’t hide the disbelief in his tone.

She forced herself to smile again. “Yes. Those posters you put up all around school really helped boost the popularity of the exhibition. It’s a sell-out and people are desperate for tickets.”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, glancing away, guiltily.

“You know,” she put on her best sex kitten act, sidling up to him, “modeling for those photographs has done so much for my self-confidence. I know I didn’t act it too much, but all those times I rejected you was really just because I was so shy. I was inexperienced, and I knew a guy like you had had plenty of girls. I didn’t want to look like an idiot with you.”