CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER thirty
Space and time stopped working properly after that. One second, David was staring in horror at Noah’s mother’s ruined dress. He blinked, and suddenly he was in the back of a car, watching lights blur in the window. Another blink, and he was standing in the ballroom, taking Noah toward the food table again. A turn of his gaze, and he was in a room full of white.
Moments and memories blended together at light speed. David tried to snatch one to hold onto, but everything was too fast. He couldn’t find reality, only a flip book of random people, places, and things.
It stopped when cold metal bit into his neck. Everything snapped to black as he stood panting, still dressed in his suit, though it was tattered from tumbling through time. He furrowed his brow, trying to understand. Why was it so dark?
The metal pressed to his throat, and the cold gave way to a ribbon of heat as the blade sliced his neck. He flinched, recoiling into someone behind him. He tried to turn, but strong hands pinned his arms to his sides.
“Stupid boy,” Klaus hissed in his ear.
David froze. He tried again to free himself, but the knife nicked his throat again. He heard the click of heels, and his mother appeared out of the dark, still clutching that Chanel purse.
“Mom,” he rasped. “Help me.”
His mother stepped forward and smacked him across the face.
Light exploded behind David’s eyes, and he let out a gasp. His parents vanished, and the darkness transformed into an empty hospital room. White sheets pooled at his feet, and his hospital gown was lopsided over his bare thighs. His chest heaved with the force of his breaths as he struggled to sit up, only to find that his wrists had padded cuffs on them. IVs snaked out from his forearms, their tubes twirling up into bags of clear and colored liquids.
Noah suddenly appeared in the open doorway, still wearing his dress pants. He’d abandoned his velvet suit jacket somewhere and was now wearing only a white button-down that had no business looking so good on him. His unruly curls fell into his eyes, no longer styled the way he’d worn them to the party.
“What’s happening?” David croaked, struggling to place himself. Fear sewed up his throat, even as Noah rushed to him. “Noah, what’s happening?”
“You’re okay,” Noah soothed, sliding into a chair at his bedside. “You’re okay, baby.”
“I’m cuffed to a bed,” David snapped. Oh god, he was covered in sweat.
“Yeah, sorry,” Noah said, taking his hand. “You were having night terrors.”
“Night terrors?” His eyes flicked to the windows, where there was only dark sky and a few distant building lights. His stomach dropped. “What about the party? What about Caroline? Is she okay? Oh my god—and your mom. I’m so sorry. Is she okay?”
Noah thumbed the side of his palm. His eyes were ringed red and accented with dark circles beneath. He looked absolutely exhausted. “The party is still going on, actually. Last I heard, my mum was having a dance-off with Gerard.”
David tried to sit up again, then flopped back down when the cuffs locked his arms in place. “We have to get back. I can’t miss my own fucking party.”
Noah shook his head. “You’re here for the rest of the night, Jochmann. You need a lot of fluids and rest.”
“But—”
“Caroline is having a great time. She has no idea what happened beyond you getting sick. I told her we ate something bad at lunch. She’s worried, but she’s okay, and she’s enjoying herself,” Noah explained. “My mum goes on every trip with five outfit options for every day, so she changed and went right back to partying.”
“I’m so sorry,” David said again.
Noah squeezed his hand. “She’s a mom, David. She’s been puked on a bunch of times. Ask her about when I had the flu in second grade.”
“I ruined it,” David said sadly. “I barely said hi, and then I did that.”
Noah reached up to smooth his hair back. “Baby, you’re sick. It wasn’t your fault.”
David pulled away as best he could. “No, I’m not sick.”
He hated hospitals. His father instilled that fear early, when he told him doctors would shave his head and stick needles in his brain to suck his memories out if he told them Klaus caused his bruises. David still remembered the first time a doctor asked about a mark on his stomach. He’d burst into tears and made up a story about running away—convincing enough that the doctor didn’t say anything else about it. His lying started early, too.
“I’m going to call the nurse, okay? We’ll get these cuffs off,” Noah said. He pressed a button, and a nurse appeared in the doorway almost instantly.
“Oh, good, he’s awake,” she said in a thick French accent. “I’ll get the doctor.”
David chewed the inside of his cheek. Someone must have washed his mouth out because he couldn’t taste any bile, thank god. Noah adjusted his hospital gown for him, then pulled the sheets up to warm him up. Such a small thing, but it reminded him how thankful he was to have Noah here.
A middle-aged woman with a stethoscope walked in as Noah smoothed the sheets.
“David, my name is Dr. Fontaine,” she said. She motioned to the nurse by the door, who pulled it shut.
David gave Noah a worried look. He did not like being trapped in rooms with strangers, especially not doctors.
“Let’s take these off, shall we?” Dr. Fontaine said, taking one of his cuffs. “We put these on as a safety precaution. I know you aren’t dangerous, but your sleeping self isn’t so calm.”
“I fell asleep?” he asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left his mouth. He’d woken up from a dream, of course he’d fallen asleep.
She nodded and freed his left arm while Noah made quick work of the right. “What do you remember, David?”
Heat rushed to his cheeks as he rubbed the irritated marks where the cuffs had been. “I remember throwing up on Noah’s mom.”
“Is that all?”
He looked at Noah for help, but Noah merely smiled at him with worry in his eyes. He should have stayed at the party and had fun. Instead he was here, looking like he was about to crack in half any second.
“Yeah,” David finally said. “That’s all I really remember, but I know I must’ve been awake to get here.”
“You were,” she affirmed. “Though I use that term loosely, in the sense that you were conscious.”
David carefully sat up, avoiding the IVs in his arms as he did so. Noah’s hands hovered at the ready, fully prepared to grab him if the hospital bed suddenly gained a life of its own and bucked him off the mattress. David had to smile a little.
“Noah, it’s fine,” he murmured, gently batting his hand away.
“Let me fuss,” Noah replied, scooting closer to kiss his cheek. “You really scared me.”
David melted, even as a wave of exhaustion made sitting up feel like he’d started a marathon. He looked at the doctor. “So, what’s going on?”
Dr. Fontaine smiled at him the way people smiled at pet dogs before they were euthanized. “Well, I have to ask Noah to leave the room to discuss your medical needs.”
David shook his head. “No. He stays. I want him here.”
Noah rubbed his thigh, warm and soothing. “Am I allowed to stay?”
Dr. Fontaine nodded. “As long as David has given his permission.” She cleared her throat, scanning the clipboard in her hand. “I’ll put this plainly: David, you have a severe eating disorder.”
Anger sparked in David’s gut. Not this fucking thing again. “No, I don’t.”
“Medically, you do,” Dr. Fontaine replied, holding his gaze. “The reason you don’t remember coming here is because your blood sugar was so low that your cognitive functions became impaired.”
“No,” he argued. “I ate a lot of food today. A ton of food—Noah made me eat. You can ask him.”
The light went out in Noah’s eyes and he turned away. David folded his hand over Noah’s on his thigh, thumbing over his knuckles. He hated seeing him so distraught. Could he go one single day without ruining Noah’s life?
“David, what have you eaten in the past week?” Dr. Fontaine asked. “Can you tell me?”
“Sure,” David said. “Last night I had a wedge salad. I had water at lunch and cake at the cake tasting. The day before that, I had food on the plane—I think it was salmon tartare. And then—what?”
Dr. Fontaine had pursed her lips, just like his mother before she hit him. “Does that sound like a normal diet to you?”
David glowered at her. “I’m not a normal person. I’m a driver in Formula America. Weight is an important part of keeping the car fast.”
Noah dragged a hand through his hair beside him, struggling to keep calm. David tensed without meaning to, and his pulse picked up on the heart monitor. He couldn’t deal with Noah thinking he was a failure, too.
Dr. Fontaine nodded down at her clipboard. “What happened this evening is a result of refeeding syndrome. Do you know what that is?”
David cringed. He hated the word feeding . It sounded fat. “I don’t have an eating disorder, so no, I don’t.”
“Listen to the doctor, babe,” Noah said, forcing gentleness into his tone. “She’s trying to help.”
“She thinks I have an eating disorder,” David snapped.
Noah kissed his knuckles. His lashes hung low over his eyes, full of fear. “Please?”
“Okay, whatever,” David said, turning his attention back to the doctor. There was no way in hell he’d ever deny Noah anything. “I’ll eat or whatever I need to do. Just get me some healthy food, and I’ll eat.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Dr. Fontaine said. “You’re past the point of being able to eat normally. That’s why this happened. You introduced a lot of food after a period of severe malnourishment. Your body can’t adjust that quickly.”
David wanted to scream. He’d focused on eating since they boarded the flight to Paris. “Then just tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do, and I’ll do it.”
She set the clipboard in her lap and folded her hands over it. “David, you are also well past the point where you can fix this yourself. Your body no longer understands how to metabolize food properly, so introducing previous diet habits may kill you.”
David looked at his boyfriend, certain he’d misheard, but Noah had tears in his eyes, staring down at the sheets.
“That is ridiculous,” David said. “It’s food.”
“Something you have deprived yourself of for a very long time,” Dr. Fontaine said.
“You could have had heart failure,” Noah whispered, his voice shaking.
“That doesn’t make sense,” David argued. “I’m an athlete. I drive race cars for a living—I can handle a piece of chicken.”
“Please, listen,” Noah choked out.
“I’m listening, Noah. You’re being dramatic about this. I’m fine; everything is fine.”
“It’s not!” Noah shouted, startling him. “I thought I was helping, and I nearly killed you, David! That soup completely fucked with your sodium levels, and I basically tried to fucking kill you!”
David’s eyes went wide. Noah never yelled. Maybe once or twice when they were still racing together and competitiveness got the better of him, but when he was angry with David, he always kept it controlled.
“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Noah added, his eyes were still wild with fear. He wiped his eyes with shaking hands. “You could have died, and it would have been my fault.”
Noah never said it out loud, but David knew he already blamed himself for Robbie’s death. David couldn’t stand the thought of Noah feeling guilty over him. His stomach ached as he leaned in to comfort his boyfriend, and his insides twisted uncomfortably, but he ignored it. Noah was his priority, always. Noah rested his forehead on David’s shoulder, breathing deeply against the hospital gown as if he expected David to disappear.
“Look at me,” David murmured. Noah lifted his head, and the tears finally spilled from his eyes. David thumbed them away, conscious of the tubing and IVs. He knew what it felt like to feel helpless with a loved one in a hospital bed. Last season, Noah had been unconscious for his whole visit when David arrived after his accident, and it had been some of the most terrifying hours of his life. “I’m safe. We’re at a hospital. I’m not dying.”
“You need to listen,” Noah begged, resting their foreheads together. “Listen to the doctor and do what she says so you can actually be safe, David.”
“Hey,” David soothed, drinking in the warmth of his touch. “What are you so scared for? I’m right here, Noah. I’m not going anywhere.”
His arms shook as he tried to give Noah an awkward hug. Noah barely hugged back, as if he were afraid David would snap in half. Surely he wasn’t that thin. He still had jiggling fat on his arms. David turned his face and kissed Noah’s neck, wincing at how chapped his lips were.
“I thought I could fix it,” Noah said into his shoulder, his voice trembling. “I thought I was helping.”
“You were,” David said, gently stroking Noah’s side. “You made me eat when no one else would. I know you wanted what was best for me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I almost sent you into heart failure. You could have gone into a coma, David.”
David scoffed. “Yeah. Right.”
“He’s not kidding,” Dr. Fontaine interjected.
The hair rose on the back of David’s neck. He hated this fucking doctor. She was scaring Noah and making everything worse. David kissed the corner of Noah’s jaw and leaned back into the hospital bed to better face her. “Fine. Let’s get started on whatever treatment you think I need so we can go. We have a flight tomorrow, and I need to be in Iowa in three days.”
Dr. Fontaine glanced at Noah before she said, “Sorry, David, but that isn’t happening.”
David curled his hands to fists at his sides. “I don’t think you get to decide that. I’m getting on that plane and going back to work. I have a season to salvage.”
Noah shook his head. “David, you’re staying here for ten days, and we’re going to monitor you for another ten.”
David gaped at him, waiting for the punchline.
Noah wiped his nose on his sleeve. “This isn’t something you just eat and get better from. The next time you eat, you could still…” He cut himself off and made a face so full of pain that David’s heart clenched in sympathy.
“What? Die? There’s no way that’s happening,” David said with a pointed look at the doctor. “Tell him.”
Dr. Fontaine shook her head. “It’s very likely that even with treatment, you may have seizures, go into a coma, or suffer heart failure. Refeeding syndrome doesn’t have a definitive treatment plan.”
David always wondered what it would be like to be told he only had a few days left to live. He never expected his diet to kill him. He didn’t feel like he was dying, either. He felt fucking normal. Maybe a little weak from throwing up, but normal.
“I don’t believe you,” he said after a long pause. “If this were really a problem, Oxbow would—”
“Oxbow has already withdrawn you from the next three races,” Noah said in a pinched voice. “The official announcement will come on Tuesday while they sort out who’s driving in your place.”
The glass facade David had built for himself shattered in front of him. One second, he was a champion wasting time in a hospital bed with a silly health scare, then he was suddenly just a human being with a family who hated him. A sack of bones and flesh, useless to everyone. Without driving, he had no purpose. He couldn’t raise a son with no job, and his only skills involved being on a racetrack.
Hugh must have been waiting for this, he realized. He probably already had a driver picked out, ready to shove David out at a moment’s notice. Too fat and too weak .
Of course a bowl of soup could kill him. Maybe he fucking deserved it.
“We’ll monitor you for ten days, then you’ll fly back to Los Angeles to continue monitoring there,” Dr. Fontaine explained. “If—and only if—you pass your health screenings after those two weeks, we will assess your ability to race.”
Dangling the carrot. David could see she didn’t really believe he’d ever step in a car again. How perfect—food ended his career, just not in the way he’d expected. Instead of being too fat, he was now just fat and malnourished. It was only a matter of time before Noah left him for someone who knew how to maintain a proper weight.
He leaned back into the mattress, staring at the paneled ceiling above him.
“We’re going to get you healthy again,” Noah said brokenly. “It’s going to be okay, Davey Jones. I’ve gotcha.”
His mother appeared in his mind’s eye, poised to strike. You are nothing to me, your father, your sister, or anyone else.
It was true. He had no team, no car, no family. He had a boyfriend staying with him out of guilt and an ex-girlfriend pregnant with a child who would grow up to hate him for keeping him away from his grandparents. Once Caroline found out, she might take Pierre away from him completely. After all, who wanted to raise a child with a man who could be killed by a bowl of soup?
His father always told him to be unbreakable. As David looked down at his scar-covered fingers, he realized he should have known that meant only he could destroy himself.