I glance at the clock on my wall for the billionth time today. Brittany hasn’t been answering my texts, which is making me worry. I’ve never seen her as distraught as she was this morning. It’s hard to see her like that and know there’s not a whole lot I can do to help. The door to my office swings open, and I sit up straighter when I see who it is.
“Rebecca, hey.”
She closes the door behind her. “Do you know where Brittany is? She was supposed to meet me for lunch today, but she never showed and I can’t get hold of her.”
Damn. “I think I know where she is. She had a rough morning, so she probably never left my house. I’ll check on her once I get off work.” Unfortunately, that’s three hours from now. Rebecca seems happy with that, though. She asks me to tell Brittany to text her an update later. When my door closes, a heavy, tired sigh leaves me, taking all my energy with it. All I want to do is go home and lie in my recliner.
The minutes drag by at a torturous rate. I make a call to my psychiatrist to see about upping my dosage. Things aren’t getting any better, so maybe a little more medication will help me out. I finally leave work, stopping to pick up my medication and then dinner on my way home because I don’t feel like cooking. Sure enough, Brittany’s car is in the exact same spot as it was when I left this morning.
I place the bag of food on the kitchen table next to the unmoved spare key. I walk down the hallway and see Brittany, curled into a ball, hugging my pillow to her chest. Her eyes are closed, and I can’t help but wonder if her sleeping now is going to throw her off later. I reach over and shake her shoulder gently. Her eyes pop open and she rolls onto her back with a yawn.
“Decided to skip, I see,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.
“Only for today.”
“Well, it’s time to get out of bed. You need to text Rebecca. I brought home dinner, too.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Of course she isn’t. She probably hasn’t left my bed all day. All I do is nod. I toe out of my shoes and then leave the room. I actually don’t feel hungry myself at the moment, so I walk straight to my recliner. I turn on the TV to the news and take a deep breath. I want to be comforting to Brittany, but I also want to be in my chair. She needs to get out of bed anyway. Hopefully, she’ll make her way in here soon.
Ten minutes later, she’s shuffling into the living room, still in her pjs. She frowns when she sees me in my recliner, but climbs in my lap to lie with me.
“I kinda hate this chair,” she mumbles against my neck.
“Why?” What’s wrong with my chair? And for her to hate it, she sure does like to sit in it with me.
“Because it means you’re having a rough day.”
I chuckle. “Stop pointing out my tells.”
“You point out mine.”
“Yeah, but you know them already.”
She shrugs her shoulder and doesn’t say anything else. There’s something I’ve been thinking about all afternoon and hopefully, Brittany won’t be upset with me.
“I want to talk to you about the anxiety.”
She tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Okay.”
“Can you tell a difference since he increased your dosage?”
“Not really.”
I brace myself because I know she’s not going to like where I’m about to take this. “You might want to ask him about a med change.”
“Trace, no.” She sits up to look at me. “It’s only been a little over a week. Aren’t I supposed to wait two weeks for it to go into full effect or something? Med changes suck. It took like forever for me to find this one.”
She’s right. It took quite a few med changes for Dr. Gunner to find a medication where the side effects didn’t outweigh the intended effect. I think that’s the major reason why she came to hate taking her medication and why she would want to stop cold turkey.
“I know, but it might be time. You should at least see what Dr. Gunner thinks.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to…I don’t know, wait until the semester is over? If I’m going to have wacko side effects, I can’t handle that while I’m in school.”
“Who says you’re going to have wacko side effects?”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “This is me we’re talking about. We went through six medications before finding this one, Trace. Six. And it was nearly as bad as the anxiety.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I don’t want to do that again.”
“I know. Just think about it, okay?”
“Fine,” she grumbles, returning to rest her head on my shoulder. “I guess I might as well talk to you about something that will make you uncomfortable.”
“Like what?”
“Well, my parents know I’m not doing so great, and they want me to come home this weekend. They want me to get away for a little bit and see Dr. Gunner in person. While Mom is curious about my new boyfriend, especially since I haven’t even said his name, I’m only telling you so you’ll know I’ll be unavailable this weekend. Not because I think we should tell them yet.”
Yeah, I think it’s way too soon to tell her parents. Not to mention that I’m so not prepared for that. “Okay,” I say, grateful that she’s not asking me to come with her. “That could be good for you and gives you the week to think about asking Dr. Gunner about the med change.” She doesn’t comment, so I add, “This romantic date I owe you, if I plan it for next weekend, does it still count if I also make it a Valentine’s Day date?”
“Trying to kill two birds with one stone, Trace?” She laughs softly, and it’s good to hear.
“Yeah,” I tell her honestly.
That gets a real giggle out of her. Brittany sits up with a smile. “I guess it can still count, though it makes you seem lazy and uncreative.” She leans forward and gives me a quick kiss. “What did you get for dinner?”
For a second, I’m stunned that she’s hungry. “Chicken quesadillas.”
“Well, let’s go eat.”
We eat our dinner in the kitchen, and then Brittany leaves. She wants to email a few of her classmates to see what was covered in class. She seems to be in a better mood and doing better for now. Hopefully, it’ll last until morning and she won’t miss another day of school. She’s too close to finishing to mess it up.
With her gone, I return to my recliner and turn off the TV. The noise is annoying and I don’t really care to watch anything. The silence and stillness is blissful. I feel terrible that I’m happy Brittany is gone, but I am. Since we started seeing each other, I haven’t exactly had a ton of time to myself. Maybe her being gone for the weekend will give me some time to recoup. Not that she’s the reason why I’m not getting better or anything like that, but it is harder with her around.
Before, with either my dad or my ex-wife, I didn’t share what was going on with my depression. I kept it all to myself. Brittany not only has me sharing some of that with her, but she’s needed support from me more than my ex-wife ever did. I don’t mind it at all, but I didn’t realize just how much I didn’t provide those things in my previous relationships. It’s an adjustment. A hard one to deal with when I’m still adjusting to moving, my new job, and a new relationship in general.
Tired and done with today, I head to my room, take my pills, and climb into bed.
Me: Make it to all of your classes?
Brittany: Yes
Me: Good to hear.
I was worried that she would have a repeat of yesterday; I’m glad she didn’t. Today has been ridiculously slow, and I’m not looking forward to what I’m about to do. Go grocery shopping. Does any adult enjoy this? I should really see if any of the stores around here have that service where they do the grocery shopping for you and you can pick it up or they deliver it.
My phone rings as I grab a cart.
“Can’t text me?” I ask Brittany as a way of answering.
“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.” She sounds good, so that’s a plus. “How was your day?”
“Uneventful. Y
ours?”
“Way better than yesterday.” She’s quiet for a moment. “So, Bec and I are about to go out to eat, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us.”
“I would, but I’m grocery shopping.” Not to mention, it’s one thing to be dating Brittany since the college is aware of it. It would be different for me to hang out with her also-a-college-student friend.
“Oh, okay. Maybe another time.”
“Enjoy your girl time, all right?”
“Okay,” she says, and I’m relieved that she doesn’t sound disappointed. “I’ll talk to you later then.”
We say goodbye and hang up. It seems I chose the perfect time to come; there aren’t a lot of people here. My trip goes fairly well and I unload and put away the groceries when I get home. I’ve been alone for a few years now. I was alone for a period of time before I met my ex-wife, Faith. It’s something I’m used to. Usually, it’s no big deal. I don’t mind it and it’s simply something people deal with. However, it’s always harder to manage myself when I’m alone with my thoughts.
I should have accepted Brittany’s invitation. I really need to get some friends here, too. An hour after I arrive home, I find myself staring at the TV screen. My mind is blank. Annoyed for spacing out, I get up, hook my phone up to play some music off a local radio app, and start cleaning the house. If I’m going to zone out, then I might as well be productive. I need to do my best to stay out of the sinkhole that is my depression this week and next. What fun will a romantic weekend with Brittany be if I’m not in a good mood? I’m crossing my fingers that we’ll both be okay next weekend.
While I clean, I sing the words to whatever song comes on. I’m mopping the kitchen floor when I hear a giggle. I turn to see Brittany standing in my house. The music must’ve covered up her entrance.
“Are you singing Justin Bieber, Trace?” Her laughter runs free as she clutches her stomach with one hand while trying to cover her smile with the other.
I shrug, smiling a little at hearing her laugh. “I was just singing whatever plays.” Ignoring her giggles, I continue to mop. She turns the music down, and I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“I felt like you needed me. My Trace-senses were tingling.”
We both laugh. “How was dinner with Rebecca?” I ask, deciding not to shed any light on whether her senses were correct.
“Good. I got to meet her boyfriend, Dustin. He seems really nice and they’re adorable together.”
Though there’s no disappointment or annoyance in her tone that I basically bailed on a double date, I still feel bad. I falter with mopping as I realize it’s a very good thing I did bail. There’s a good possibility that the Dustin she’s speaking of is the same Dustin who has visited my office a few times this semester. What are the odds that there is another Dustin at the university who is also dating someone named Rebecca? How awkward would that be? To show up for dinner with her best friend and to see someone who’s been in my office for counseling?
“Sorry I missed it,” I say, finishing up. I lean the mop against the wall and walk over to her.
“It’s okay,” she replies. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her temple. She tilts her head back. “Does this mean I was right?”
“I’ve kinda gotten used to having you here, so I was going a little stir crazy,” I admit.
“Then I’m glad I came.” Brittany takes a big, deep breath. “So, I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“I assume your romantic date will include a certain activity afterward.” She runs her hands up my chest and snakes them around my neck. “Since you’ll be treating me, I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping to pick some things out.”
Shopping in and of itself does not sound like fun. However, seeing Brittany in some lingerie could definitely make up for it.
“You don’t want to surprise me?”
She shakes her head. “It’ll be easier to figure out the kind of things you like if you help pick it out.”
I laugh. “I’m a man, Britt; I like everything.”
“Fine. I’ll go by myself, and you can be surprised.” This is what she decides to be disappointed over? Not me using grocery shopping as an excuse to miss out on dinner with her friend, but me not going shopping for lingerie with her? Yeah, sure, that makes sense.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go,” I point out. Pulling away from her, I grab my phone and keys and turn to see a large smile on her face. I don’t know why it’s so important for me to go, but I’m not complaining since I’ll get to see her in something sexy. “Let’s hit the road.”
Brittany tells me where she wants to go, giving me a few directions since I’m still learning my way around, and I drive us there. There are a few other women in the store, and an employee greets us. No, we don’t need any help, lady. I try to take in all the outfits. Seriously, any of them would work. Or, she could simply be naked. That would definitely work, too.
“Everything looks alike,” I say.
She rolls her eyes at me. “They aren’t alike. Here. Feel this.” She holds out a sheer red one. It feels kind of coarse. “Now, this one.” She holds out a black one, which is much softer. “One has push-up abilities, while the other does not,” she adds. Brittany puts them back on the rack.
“Okay, so they’re not all the same. Maybe they only look that way because I’m not seeing it on you.” I grin.
“Pick me out something to try on.”
I start to pay more attention to all my options and slowly begin pointing out a few things while Brittany finds her size. Once she has about six options, she heads toward the dressing room. The lady who greeted us at the door is the one who unlocks the door to a stall for her. She eyes me critically when I step in behind Brittany, but doesn’t say anything.
I take a seat on the bench. “I’m pretty sure that woman thinks I’m going to try to have sex with you while we’re in here.”
“Shh,” she laughs. “She can probably hear you, and I’m sure she doesn’t think that.” Brittany begins to undress, and my eyes are glued to her body as more of it is revealed to me. If she didn’t have my full attention before, she does now. She’s showing way too much skin to be more focused on the clothes than me. “See, you say you like everything, but you do have a preference.”
Clearing my throat and shifting in my seat, I ask, “I do?”
“Yep. You like a satin or lace material. You barely paid attention to the ones that would show a lot of skin. Everything you picked up leaves a lot to the imagination, which means you prefer something hot, but not completely revealing.” She’s slipped on the first item and turns toward me with her hands on her hips. “Still like it?”
All I can do is nod. Her legs and cleavage look to die for and it takes all my willpower not to reach out and pull her into my lap. She’s right, too. I picked something that leaves me picturing what’s beneath the fabric. Brittany laughs at my lack of verbal response and begins to change into the next one. This is freaking torture. I have to watch her strip down and then dress in something sexy for six outfits?
By the fourth one, I’m getting antsy. I’ve already fucked her twice in my head, picturing exactly what I’m going to do to her once we get home. Sitting here and doing nothing but watching is unbearable. I can’t help but reach out, grab her wrist, and pull her to straddle my lap. I run my fingers over the soft material. I’m completely captivated by her.
Brittany giggles and shifts her hips on my lap to tease me with what I can’t have…yet. “I was beginning to think you were immune.”
“More like trying to control myself.” I kiss her long and hard, dragging a moan out of her. It doesn’t matter any more that we’re in a store because all I can think about is her beautiful body in my lap. Her chest is already heaving. Short pants leave her mouth as I begin trailing my lips down to her neck.
She grabs my shoulders and pushes me away with a grin on her face. “You’re going to have to control yourself a little better, Trac
e,” she tells me as she wiggles out of my lap.
I groan. “Why did you want me to come?”
“To find out what you actually like and to buy a few things.”
“Not to tease and torture me?”
Brittany grins over her shoulder. “That was just a bonus.”
“You’re evil. Forget about the last two. Put your clothes on, grab the ones you want, and let’s go home before I actually try to have sex with you in here.”
She rolls her eyes, totally not buying that I would try. She does do as I ask, though. I’m practically bouncing on my toes as we check out and I drive us back to my house. I start kissing her the moment we step foot in the house.
“Are you staying here tonight?” I ask between kisses, making her walk backward toward my room and shedding her clothes along the way.
“I brought an overnight bag, just in case.”
“You are seriously the best girlfriend I’ve ever had,” I tell her as I lie us down on the bed.
Brittany laughs, and the sound turns me on more. “Why don’t you stop talking and get naked already?” My clothes are coming off before she can finish the sentence.
Trace: Pack a bag. You’re staying with me tonight.
Trace: Meet me at my house at 4:30.
Me: Why?
Trace: Date.
Those texts were sent this morning and I’m still smiling as I pull into Trace’s driveway. I’m excited to see what we’re doing today, even more excited because I feel good today. I almost feel like myself again. Moments like these need to be cherished and enjoyed because that’s just the thing. They are moments. Fleeting. Brief. A section of time that turns into a memory before anyone’s ready for it.
Trace is walking out of the house and waving for me to get out of my car already.
“What’s the rush?” I ask as he opens the passenger door of his car for me.
“Time crunch.” He closes it and walks around.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he shifts into reverse.
Driving Me Mad (Sanity Book 1) Page 10
