Chapter

One

RHYS

Running my fingers along the Fibonacci inlay on the back of a playing card had always helped distill the panic. I found the thing on an Etsy shop nearly ten years ago and Fibo and I became thick as thieves. It was my own geeked-out version of a fidget spinner, numbers the only thing that could ever truly soothe the unrest in my head. My parents hated the chaos I subjected myself to, but I loved it—craved it even. My house and my life reflected my love for math and everything it entailed, so much so that my office was littered with numerical madness. Algorithms and equations were written along every space of those walls and while it was just madness to everyone else, it was home to me.

I was very aware that it was strange but everyone had their crutch. Some used a paper bag. I fingered Fibo until I could breathe again.

Well, not finger him.

I let out a panicked breath, trying to push past the reason why I hadn't left the safety of my car for the last fifteen minutes. Leaning forward, I pressed my head to the steering wheel as I continued fingering the inlay of swirls, running through the numbers one at a time until my heartbeat slowed and breathing became easier. 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5-

A blaring horn in the distance ripped me out of my peaceful little bubble, a tired sigh falling from my lips. Even after an hour-long therapy session and sitting here in my driveway, I still hadn't managed to fully deal with my feelings concerning a certain ex of mine. Owen, as wonderful as he had been at the beginning of our relationship, became a fucking nightmare in recent months.

An average Biochemistry professor that I met at a routine STEM conference in France should have been the end of the story but somehow the shaggy-haired, off-the-wall, personable professor had captured my heart. Between working on my dissertation involving a government program and a top security clearance and dealing with a shitty as fuck fiancé, my life had spiraled.

Whatever sanity I still had was slowly dwindling away every time he stuck his head into my fucking business.

And it wasn't just because he was a cocksucking mentally and physically abusive bastard. Well, he wasn't sucking much of anything. Touch became stagnant between us and I had been suffering because the only thing I loved as much as numbers was touch. That and sugar. I was a slut for all three, but the physical and emotional intimacy that came with relationships? That is what I craved. My entire existence was built on it, like a crazed obsession but Owen's idea of love involved a lot more yelling and a dose of gaslighting.

I took a deep breath and slid from the safety of my car after stuffing Fibo back into my pocket, my gaze locked on my front door. It was a terrible shade of brownish-green, reminding me of a mixture of puke and leaves masquerading as an evergreen. It didn't make a lick of sense but all I knew was that I hated it, however, my painting skills were shit and any task that involved perfection would throw me down a rabbit hole.

Repainting that goddamn door would have me somehow taking on a project of fixing up the entire exterior and I didn't have time for that shit.

I was also mentally and physically drained from not dealing with problems, the only thing I wanted to do involved pillows, covers, and staring at the algorithms on my wall. Add in a few warmed-up chocolate chip cookies leftover from the local bakery and life would be perfect.

The shrill ring of my phone destroyed that option.

"I thought I turned that shit off," I mumbled to myself because who in their right mind still had their ringer on these days? I wasn't important enough for people to be calling me and anything I had to respond to could wait for me to remember I had a phone. Still, I answered it. "Yes?"

"How you holding up?"

I immediately relaxed at my brother, Liam's, voice as his words softly came through the earpiece. Him and his husband, Joey, were the only two in this world that even remotely understood what was going on in my life. Not the super-secret government project that I was working on, but everything else—including how Owen wasn't the perfect man, no matter how much I tried to parade around that everything was fine.

There had been another person in my life who cared just as much, a neighbor that I used to visit at times when I needed someone to pull me out of my head. Gianni moved away just weeks after I threw Owen out, not that I would have expected him to pick up where we had left off. We hadn't made anything official. I kind of wished we had.

"Rhys? Talk to me," Liam pleaded.

I realized I was still standing in the doorway, my entire private life privy to anyone who passed by my driveway. I closed the door and slipped off my shoes before double-checking that it was locked. Could never be too careful with someone like Owen waltzing around. "I'm okay," I finally responded.

My ex had a habit of finding his way in here despite the restraining order. Liam and Joey, our family lawyers, had been the ones to help me file but I was terrified to ever actually make sure it was enforced. Not only could the order not be criminally enforced, but calling the police to deal with Owen always seemed to make the situation worse. It made Owen worse.

One of the first rules of my program had been to stay out of trouble with the law. I knew that it wasn't my fault that Owen was an obsessive piece of shit but this dissertation was my entire life's work. One wrong move and everything I had worked for would go up in flames.

Liam had mentioned filing for a protective order but if my program found out about the trouble that was surrounding me, they could drop me altogether and I just couldn't have that.

No, I'd just handle him.

He wasn't that bad. Most of the time.

I shuddered at the last time I had found him in my house, not-so-subtly asking questions about my project as if he truly cared. The visit had ended in an altercation, leaving me with a large purple bruise on my shoulder. That had been a week ago, an incident I hadn't mentioned to anyone, and purposely started wearing collared shirts like a prep kid to avoid questions.

See? Healthy adulting. I was killing it.

"Bullshit," Liam responded to my lame statement. "Is Owen there?"

My hackles raised as I did a 360, sniffing at the air to see if his pungent cologne lingered in my house. While he could be lurking in a corner, Owen was a show-off. He would have come to greet me. "No, I don't think so."

"And I wasn't asking because I thought he snuck in. Rhys," Liam trailed off and I knew he was trying to help but now all of the hard work I had done to calm down was gone. My breathing quickened as I ran through another sequence of numbers, mentally taking a deep breath. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Liam knew how fragile my mind could be despite my academic intelligence. Sometimes, we joked that my sanity had been switched out for smarts. The constant stress of everything in my life was starting to take a toll on my mental health, not that I would ever ask for help.

"It's fine," I pushed out through clenched teeth. Changing the sequence, I mumbled through a different one as I relaxed, looking around once more for any sign of Owen. He wasn't here and he hadn't been. At least not since I left a few hours ago.

There were two obvious tells—his cologne and any god-awful smell coming from the kitchen due to what Owen used to call peace offerings. He couldn't cook for shit but he believed he was a chef and that food could fix everything—even abusive outbursts.

"I'll be fine," I reiterated, not that I sounded convincing in the slightest.

"You've been going to your therapy sessions?"

"Yes."

Yet another thing my brother had convinced me to do. I had hated him at the time but fuck, it was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Being able to relax and actually talk to someone about my issues had made life just a little easier. Granted, we had to jump through a few hoops and find one approved by my program but I was glad that my therapist was there for those panicked sessions I always seemed to schedule at the last minute.

"Will we see you tonight? You know Mom's been asking." Sounds of laughter picked up in the background, telling me that Liam and Joey had probably come into town last night and stayed at the house. I was only an hour away and whenever I did visit, I refused to stay overnight. The comfort of my home was a little too enticing for me to put up with family drama longer than I had to.

I didn't want to attend the weekly family dinner Mom had been running for the last decade, though. It was a chance to regroup with my siblings and their families but over time, it had become a chore rather than something I looked forward to.

Mom and Ada, my older sister, had never understood my brand of crazy, both of them highly vocal about how unsupportive they were of my choices. Dad and Ada's husband, Ernest, were relatively silent but always sided with their women. Never once had any one of them defended me from a jab at my expense. Other than Liam and Joey, the only reason to attend these family dinners was my niece, Tia. The light of my life, and a whole bundle of joy despite her parents.

How Ada had ever created that beautiful angel would always be a mystery to me.

"Rhys?"

Lost in my head again. I had no idea how Liam put up with me. "Yeah, I'll be there I guess. Just me." I put that out into the world, reminding Liam that I was still upholding my side of the restraining order as best I could. I also hoped that Liam would help redirect any conversations regarding Owen. Mom and Ada were hung up on the guy, constantly telling me that he was the perfect partner in my life. I'm sure Mom only thought so because Ada did as if that piece of shit had been a present dropped into my lap.

He was definitely anything but.

It had been a little while since I had seen them all last, probably around the same time I kicked Owen out. However, if I didn't show up this week, there was a strong likelihood that either Mom or Ada would show up on my doorstep to ‘check-in'. Hanging up with my brother after a quick goodbye, I headed for my office deciding to forgo my original plan of warm cookies. They'd still be here later.

Without even thinking, I grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the closet before curling up on the couch against the back wall. My gaze focused on the sequences and algorithms I had etched into the wallpaper over the years. It was a wall of madness but it was my brand of madness and it was all I needed to feel safe, wrapped up in my little cocoon of happiness. Soon enough, sleep overtook me.