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I sighed. I knew he wasn’t happy about me being here, but Eric had saved me, and now he’d been there for me on more than one occasion. With all that was going on, I had a feeling that Wrench was going to have to get used to Eric being involved.
“Peter showed up at the funeral. He threatened to hurt people if I didn’t go with him,” I explained softly, holding tightly to Wrench’s clothing, my body still feeling weak. “He took me to his place. And then when he was distracted, I snuck out. Eric found me running down the road.”
“How convenient,” Wrench growled softly.
“Look, you may not like me, but I care about her wellbeing, too. Peter has lost it, and his focus is on her,” Eric explained, standing his ground. “I wasn’t just gonna leave her there. What the hell kinda man do you think I am?”
“You really want me to answer that?” Wrench shot back.
I tapped his chest. “Stop. That’s enough,” I warned him gently.
“You need to do something,” Eric said.
Wrench’s nostrils flared. “You better watch what you’re saying, lawyer. Wouldn’t want people to know you’re working with the enemy.”
I turned to look over at Eric who was clearly unimpressed, his jaw set.
“All right, I think we’re done here,” I said calmly, trying to cool the temperature of the air that had suddenly begun to burn around us. I met Eric’s eyes. “Thank you for helping me. I’m not sure what I would have done.”
His face softened dramatically as he turned his attention to me.
Wrench’s arms tightened around me. Such a damn caveman.
“I’m here if you need me, I really mean that,” he said with sincerity. “I know Peter has some problems. Something needs to be done, and you need to stay safe.”
Wrench huffed and grabbed my hand, one arm going around my waist as he led me back through Eric’s house and out to the curb where his bike sat. Handing me his helmet, he didn’t say anything as he placed it on my head and buckled it underneath my chin. He climbed on his bike and started the engine, waiting for me to climb on behind him. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Eric standing at the front door, watching on. I waved before mounting the bike behind Wrench and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“It’s time we talked to Op,” he said seriously, his voice carrying over the loud rumbled of his Harley.
My gut sank, but my brain told me that he was right. Taking a deep breath in, my body started to feel stronger as I held on tightly to him. Wrench was like an anchor, holding me in the realm of sanity, reminding me that he cared, that he didn’t think any less of me because of my disorder.
He was right.
I wasn’t bipolar.
Bipolar was just a part of me, something that sometimes dragged me down, something that sometimes lifted me up, something that I would live with for the rest of my life. And I was okay with that because I knew it didn’t define me. It wouldn’t stop me from doing everything that I’d always wanted to do. It might be hard sometimes, but it would also make me stronger. It would be worth the fight to prove that I could accomplish anything.
To have to look Optimus in the eye and tell him my story, I’d probably cry, I might even break down, but I wouldn’t run away.
