Being With You (The Redemption Series) (20 page)

Tristan felt like he’d just fallen down the rabbit hole, but nodded as he watched Caleb try to smile at him; it looked about as forced as possible and came off as more of a tight grimace.

Caleb laced his fingers together and let his hands sit in his lap, his leg twitching nervously underneath. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable being the center of attention, but he was forcing himself to do this; why, Tristan didn’t know.

His first action was to move his head from side to side, and his neck cracked loudly enough for everyone to hear. It wasn’t making Tristan any more comfortable the way Caleb did it; in fact, it made him seem more menacing. But then he relaxed back into the couch and started, “It’s no secret I don’t like you very much, Tristan. But let me explain why.”

He audibly swallowed before speaking again. “I helped to raise Peyton along with our other brother. We didn’t have the greatest life, but growing up, we had each other. When I joined the military, I did so knowing that Peyton could take care of herself now. So when I talked to her earlier in the winter and she was absolutely broken to pieces because of you, and I couldn’t help her, or hold her, I saw red…”

Caleb clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap before relaxing again with another deep breath. “I’m not sorry I hit you, Tristan. You deserved it. But, Peyton, you didn’t deserve the way I’ve been acting since I got home. I hurt you when all I was trying to do was help you. And, Tristan, you took a fucking hard ass punch to the face with just a feeble attempt to knee me in the junk. That took balls, man.”

It seemed like he was done talking, and even though he felt a little bit better about Caleb, it still didn’t explain how Susy fit into all this. “So…you went and got Susy for back up? I guess I don’t understand why you brought her into this.”

Susy laughed, and it was one of her true to life happy noises that she usually reserved for just people she was close with, namely him. But to hear it as she looked directly at Caleb, it did make him a bit jealous, but happy that Susy felt safe with someone else besides him. He was jealous, happy and confused all at the same time.

“Well, Tristan. I did tell you that I went on a date last night…” she looked at Tristan and then over to Caleb. “Neither one of us realized it until Caleb and I were already having drinks at the bar late last night. I’d decided before that that I really liked him, and just because you ding dongs couldn’t get along didn’t mean that I had to stay away from him.”

Caleb jumped in, “Susy,” he growled and it sent the hairs up on the back of Tristan’s neck; he narrowed his eyes at the man. Caleb saw the exchange and he put his hands up to placate Tristan. “Sorry, dude. What I meant was for Susy to stop egging you on. I fully intended to lay you out once, and then shake your hand as friends. When you took the hit for Peyton like a man, and then she told me she was moving out and couldn’t live here anymore, it made sense that I bring Susy over here so we could work this all out.”

Susy interjected, “Caleb and I were wondering if you guys would like to switch roommates. He will move in to the apartment with me, and then you guys can live together here in the house.”

Tristan stood up and pulled Susy off the couch. “We need to talk privately, Susy,” he told her as he pulled her out of the room. The little shit slipped out of his grip and planted her feet firmly into the carpet and slapped her hands against her hips. “Absolutely not, Tristan. Whatever you have to say affects all four of us, so say it out right here.”

Peyton was obviously enjoying the show, and laughed loudly at their antics. “I really like you, Susy. Good for you.”

Susy genuinely smiled right back at Peyton and said, “I really like you too, Peyton. I’m sorry for how this all turned out.”

Peyton stood up and waved her hand about. “Water under the bridge, Susy. I’m glad you were there for Tristan, and you’re a great friend to him. I see that now. I wish you nothing but the best.”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Um, what about me, sis?”

Peyton narrowed her eyes at her brother. “You’re still a dickhead.” She walked over and climbed into his lap and snuggled in. “But I do love ya. Just not the violence and the crazy ass music and the obnoxiousness. Maybe Susy can keep you in line like she did Tristan. You’re too much for little ole’ me to handle, Caleb.”

They laughed together for a minute, and Caleb gave Peyton a squeeze before he kissed her hair affectionately. “Love you, too, sis. Now get your ass off me.” He pushed her up and she walked back over to her seat.

Tristan watched the exchange and realized quickly that everyone was staring at him now. He was pretty sure that everyone was on board with switching living arrangements, and he really didn’t have any other reason to be against it. Other than he didn’t like Susy moving in with someone she’d only been on one date with, even if it was a two bedroom apartment and he assumed Caleb would move into his old bedroom.

Susy must have sensed his lingering apprehension and told him, “Tristan, just because Caleb and I went on one date, doesn’t mean we are going to share a bedroom or even a bed for that matter. Give me a little credit, jackass.”

Tristan was afraid he was going to look over to see a very angry Susy, but was shocked as hell to see she was smiling at him. “I know you’re just being protective of me, but don’t you see that Caleb was doing the same thing for Peyton? He’s trusting you; you’ve gotta trust him. And me, big guy.”

With an easy-going sigh, Tristan walked over to where Caleb was sitting and reached his hand out. Peyton’s brother stood from his seat and they shook hands. “We agree that we just want what’s best for these women. I think that’s enough for us to build a friendship on…right, Tristan?”

He agreed whole heartedly. “Damn right. Just next time, don’t hit me in the face, dickhead. I make a shitload of money at the bar because I’m eye candy, man.”

Peyton feigned anger and walked over and slapped him on the ass. “You’re officially off the market, Tristan Blair Hart.” Then she laughed.

Tristan joined her and pulled her into his arms. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Peyton…”

T
hings weren’t easy going between the four of them, but things were getting better every day. Tristan moved his belongings into Peyton’s house and Caleb moved into Tristan’s old room in Susy’s apartment. It only took one morning later that week to get things switched around because there really wasn’t much to move except for clothes, beds and dressers.

It was early afternoon on Friday when Tristan was waiting at the clinic to see Dr. Sheridan. He’d already been to the lab and done the barrage of tests that the doctor had ordered for him and was surprised when he was asked to go back for another round before he was to see the man. He really hoped that they could get this over with quickly because he had to be to work in a few hours, and he was hoping to have another bit of fun time with Peyton before she left for work as well. He wouldn’t get to see her for the rest of the weekend because she was working at the hospital overnights, and when they were both home, she’d need to be sleeping.

“Tristan Hart,” the nurse called from the doorway to the back rooms, pulling him out of his mental imagery of having Peyton naked and writhing underneath him.

He stood up from his chair and tried to adjust himself without anyone knowing, but it was pretty much impossible given where he was. The nurse just smiled at him and took him back to an exam room.

After taking his vitals and asking him a shitload of questions, the nurse told him, “Dr. Sheridan will be in shortly.”

She hadn’t even gotten out of the room before the doctor walked in carrying his electronic tablet like always. Dr. Sheridan was looking quite serious as he came in and gave Tristan a weak smile. It wasn’t boding well for him, and his brain went on overdrive thinking of all the possibilities.

“Good afternoon, Tristan. Thank you for coming in to see me today.”

This was Dr. Sheridan’s usual greeting, and Tristan gave him a small wave. “I can tell something’s up, Doc. It’s written all over your face. Let’s get this over with.”

Dr. Sheridan sighed as he sat down. “All right then, I do have some things to discuss with you today, Tristan. I’ve been monitoring the level of creatinine in your body and the filtration rate of your kidneys ever since you had the severe infection back in January. Your numbers were lowered then, but I suspected they would return to normal after the infection was gone. We rate your kidney filtration as normal if it is between 90 and 120. Your levels during that time were 70 and when we tested them again today, they were only 82. These numbers are not encouraging, Tristan.”

Tristan nodded as he spoke, but still didn’t understand. “So…what does this mean, Doc. Do I need to take more medicine to get the levels up again, or are there diet changes that would help?”

“There really aren’t medicines that can help with this, Tristan. But, yes, I am going to recommend you meet with a dietician to work on a diet that would be beneficial for your condition.”

Tristan stopped him, “Whoa…what condition?”

Dr. Sheridan sighed before crossing his legs at the ankle and sitting back in his chair. “Tristan, we don’t have a positive hereditary history to follow for you because you don’t have any living family members or know their medical histories. So we can only go on the information we have in front of us. Your last physical was done last September when you were in an in-patient psychiatric therapy program. They had tested your kidney filtration levels at that time, and they were in the upper 70s then.”

“You have had continually lowered readings, combined with the heavy metabolic supplements you take, as well as the large doses of medications you were previously taking for your bipolar condition. Now you’ve had a nearly fatal kidney infection and are passing kidney stones. I’m sorry to tell you that you have chronic kidney disease and are already in stage two of the five stages.”

Tristan was doing everything to remain focused on Dr. Sheridan’s words, but there was a buzzing in his ears, and he could feel the tingling traveling up his arms signaling a panic attack. He focused on his breathing and held up his hand to stop Dr. Sheridan from talking any further.

“Tristan, breathe for me. Do you have your anxiety meds with you?”

With a slight shake of his head, Tristan said, “No, I haven’t needed them in so long, I don’t carry them.”

Tristan could feel the situation rapidly coursing out of control and he needed to pull his shit together. Dr. Sheridan was reaching for the door when Tristan stopped him. “No, Doc. Give me a second. I got this.”

The man sat back down in the chair and Tristan slowed his mind down and relaxed himself with a lot of deep breaths and thoughts of the better things that his life contained now. It didn’t take long before he had his thoughts under control and he was able to paste a fake smile on his face and ask Dr. Sheridan, “Will this kill me?”

“Tristan, I can’t reasonably answer that question. You are a young, physically fit man in the early stages of this disease. Yes, you are going to need to alter your lifestyle, and it will be important for you to manage this carefully because you don’t have any family members that would be possible candidates for a kidney transplant in your future if you needed one. But, I’m not ruling it out either.”

Tristan sank forward and rested his hands against his knees. The room was closing in on him, but he needed to focus on one thing at a time, otherwise he knew he’d lose everything and be in a full-blown panic attack within seconds. But everything seemed to be coming at him at once, and there was no way he was going to be able to stop the massive panic that was clawing at him.

“Tristan, you need to focus on the fact that we’ve discovered this early. Way earlier than it usually gets detected. With the right choices, you will lead a very normal life.”

He was breathing erratically, and Dr. Sheridan reached out to steady him with a hand on his arm. “Tristan, it’s gonna be okay. Let me get you some anxiety meds…”

Tristan shook his head violently. “No. No more meds. These fucking things got me into this mess. I can’t.”

“Hold on, Tristan. I’ll be right back,” Dr. Sheridan held the door open and was talking to a nurse in the hallway for what seemed like hours, or maybe it was even days for all he knew. Time wasn’t moving any longer as he thought about all the shit he’d taken in his life that was probably poisonous to his body and had fucked up his insides. The different metabolic supplements he’d tried that were now listed as being dangerous for athletes, all the drinking he’d been doing, including his massive binge drinking recently that caused him to be unconscious for more than twenty four hours.

Plus, he’d just come to terms with the fact that he would forever have to take some type of mind-altering drugs to keep his bipolar and anxiety disorders under control. Now, he thought about every time he took them, he would add another nail in his coffin.

But how was he going to survive without them?

So if he did have to take them to function and his kidneys failed, he would need a transplant. But he guessed he would be put on a waiting list for one, unless he had family that would be able to donate. Well, that was out. Everyone in his family was dead and buried, except for his father, whom he could only assume the fucker had met the same fate.