A few times since then, I had anepisode, as they called them. My family gave me amazing support, so I had no idea why I turned to food for comfort, when it was the one thing that I hated most about myself, my ability to eat.
Between Mom and Quinn, I knew what I was eating was right. And when Quinn and I broke up, I started to panic. I knew we would all be coming to college, and I knew Quinn was no longer an option to help me. My parents offered to get us a cook, but a cook in a football house only raised questions. Gray took over the preparation of my meals. Jett tried to cook, but was quite frankly awful at it, a trait he obviously inherited from his mom.
The few times I’d tried to cook before we started college, I had gotten my portion size wrong, or I snacked during cooking. The snacks were not part of the plan, and knowing that, I would then make myself sick.
As I got older, I thought I had handled it better. I hadn’t had one binge since the start of sophomore year and only once in freshman year, and that time, I hadn’t made myself sick, but I had made Gray come with me every day to the gym until I worked it off.
Six ounces of chicken can only take a man of my size and sport so far, which is why Quinn’s studying nutrition was such a boost. I was so strict with what I ate, and I had the support of my family to keep me from being overwhelmed and on track.
Then tonight happened. When I got home, the fridge was only my destination due to the fact that’s where Mom kept the calendar of Santo coming and goings. I’d opened the fridge for a drink and saw cold cuts, leftovers, cake, and all the other things I denied myself.
I started on the meatloaf. Mom made the best, and it was something I was just not allowed on my food plan. It had been good, but hadn’t satisfied me. I ate the turkey on a large slab of bread, thick with butter and sprinkled with salt. That had also been a treat and so damn good I’d been sorry when it was finished. When I went to get another drink, I noticed the carton of doughnuts. Four left, out of who knew how many — each a different kind. I tried one. One hadn’t been enough. Curious to know the other flavor, I ate it too. Before I knew it, I had finished the box. Feeling slightly disgusted, I grabbed a Coke and a bag of chips and headed to bed, somehow snagging a couple of candy bars for later, just in case.
I ate it all as soon as I sat on my bed.
Then I felt sick. Which, of course, I would, as I packed an insane amount of food and sugar into my belly, but I was sure I was healthier in my mind now; I would keep it down.
While I finished my Coke, I looked up the calories in a doughnut. Within moments, I was bent over the toilet and emptying my stomach. I stayed in there for a good while, and when I came out, my phone had already been lighting up with calls and messages.
I was in no state to talk to anyone, so I ignored them.
I knew what my aunt would have seen when she came in. I would have been too pale, sweaty, and the dark rings under my eyes would have let her know I had been sick.
My bulimia was well known to my family. Even Tilly knew that I didn’t get the same food as her because I was “allergic.”
Was it Quinn’s fault I binged tonight? No.
Was it Gray’s fault? No.
Was it mine? Absolutely.
Chapter 17: Mia
I felt the bed dip, and I opened my eyes, noticing that the room was darker than when I had lain down, and I felt the comforter over me.
“Brute?” I whispered, sleepiness making my voice low and scratchy.
I recognized his disgruntled snort. “Yeah, it’sBrute, go back to sleep.”
“You’re in bed with me?”
“I’m under the covers, you’re on them,” he assured me as I heard him get comfortable.
“I’m cold.”
I heard him still, and then he sighed. “Okay, we’ll switch.”
“What do you mean?” I asked groggily as I sat up, frustrated with the darkness, as I couldn’t see anything.
“I’ll go top, you can go under,” he explained quietly, and I heard him get off the bed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he teased, and I giggled in the dark.
Once I was under the covers and he was on top, I was still cold. “This room’s like an ice box,” I muttered.
“I turned the heat down. I was too hot.”
“I’ll be warmer soon,” I lied as I felt a chill spread over me.
“Okay, go to sleep.”
