“Are you seeing anyone?”
“None of your business, Trace.” The last thing I need is to hear how I should be in therapy. My parents tell me enough.
We finish eating in silence. Trace angles toward me and I make a point to stare at the black screen of my television.
“I flew to Texas about six months ago to tell my dad. He handled it as if I had told him I was dying.” Trace absentmindedly reaches for his neck. My fingers twitch to pull it down and hold it instead. I need space before I do something stupid. Trace watches me stand and pace, but he stays on topic. “I stayed for about a week. He, um, had such a hard time because my mom was depressed. She died by suicide.”
My steps falter as I reach for my wrist.
“I had to explain that we’re not all alike. I had to give him the whole story. Well, most of it. There were some things I kept to myself. Things are better between us now. He even asks about you.”
“Why?” That makes no sense. “Didn’t you tell him what happened?”
“Yeah, of course. He asks because he wants to know if I reached out to you yet.”
I don’t want to think about that, so I ask, “What did you keep to yourself?” I would like to say that there shouldn’t be anything he couldn’t tell his father, but considering Trace wouldn’t talk to me, who knows.
That causes Trace to hesitate. Maybe he hasn’t changed after all.
“If you aren’t going to talk, then leave. There’s no point in you being here otherwise.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and drops his head. Damn it, Brittany, do not worry about him! I grab my soda and keep pacing to prevent myself from going to him. My eyes stay on him, though. He takes a deep breath and looks up at me.
“You know that I wanted to figure out myself what was wrong with me. I didn’t want help. After I was diagnosed, I still struggled with even seeing my psychiatrist.” Another deep breath. “It was my senior year, Christmas break, and I didn’t go home. I was bad off. The worst I’ve ever been. The night my dad found my mom, he tried calling me. Repeatedly.” A long, slow breath. “While my dad was finding my mom, Will—Dr. Gunner—was finding me.”
Something doesn’t sound right. What is he talking about? “What do you mean?”
“I mean that my mom committed suicide while I was attempting it.”
My can of soda falls out of my hand. What? My heart hammers in my chest, thinking of my world had Trace never been in it. Had he succeeded. Tears prick my eyes. All I can do is stare. He curses under his breath, grabbing napkins the delivery driver gave him to clean up my mess. I grab his shirt at the shoulder and pull him up. “What?” I breathe a barely audible whisper.
He sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. “You heard me,” he says quietly. “It was my first attempt. Will saved me. You can imagine how much worse I felt when I called my father and learned what happened. That’s why I never told him. I didn’t want to tell him to start with, but that sealed it for me. He was a wreck after my mom died. He—”
“Wait,” I interrupt, clutching his shirt tighter since I’m still holding on. “What do you mean first?” God, it kills me to think that had he succeeded I would’ve never met him. I would’ve never fallen in love with him. I would’ve never had my heart broken by him. Even that seems like a blessing somehow.
Trace swallows hard. “I tried again a few weeks later. I was at my lowest point before my mom died, Britt. It got impossibly lower afterward.”
My body feels faint. I release my hold and let my hand slide down to his heart. His heartbeat is strong and steady. It pulses with life. I want to hug him so badly, but I don’t.
“Before we broke up, I started having thoughts again.”
I take a stumbling step away from him. What? He can’t be serious. “That’s why you broke up with me?” I don’t give him a chance to respond. I slap his arm. “You jackass! Get out!”
“Britt,” he tries.
“No! Don’t even try to explain this to me. I don’t need to hear anything else. There’s one huge difference in what happened with us. I ran to you, Trace. You ran away from me!” I shout. “You didn’t trust me to handle it. You—”
“I’m sorry!” he yells over me. “I’m fucking sorry, Brittany, but I wasn’t wrong.” My eyes widen and I open my mouth to go off on him again. “I wasn’t,” he says firmly. “You honestly tell me how we were supposed to get better when I was worried about you and you were worried about me? When we held back because we thought we might make each other worse?”
“I didn’t hold back!” I yell. “You did! Don’t blame that shit on me.”
“You worried. You worried until it made you sick to think about how I was doing. That worry fed your anxiety and depression, just like it did mine. We needed a break from each other to get better.”
“Open your fucking eyes, Trace! I’m not better! Your plan only worked for you. I’m glad you’re better and all, but there’s no reason for you to be here.” Tears threaten to spill over. “I don’t want you back.” My voice cracks and lowers against my will. “You shouldn’t want me back either. If it happened once, it could happen again. Why would it be any different the second time around?”
He closes the distance between us and cups my face. My eyes flutter closed on their own accord. “Because I know better. I know how to handle it this time. I’ve been seeing a therapist.” That causes my eyes to fly open. “Will convinced me to go about three months after we broke up. Been seeing her ever since, once a week like clockwork.”
Trace dips his head to rest his forehead against mine. “All this time, I’ve been working to be better. For me and for you. To be the kind of man you deserved. The kind of man you could be with and it work. I always planned to come after you. Please. Give me a chance.”
I swallow hard. “Why couldn’t you have done all of that with me?”
“It seemed like the best option. It kills me to think that I left you when you needed me most, that I haven’t been here for you all this time. I’ll do absolutely anything you want me to to prove myself to you. I just need the chance.”
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”
“You still love me; I can tell.” His eyes keep scanning my face. He’s desperate for me to take him back.
I pull away from him. I can’t do this anymore. This is too much all at once. “I’m tired,” I tell him as I walk away. “You should go.”
“Come home with me.”
“Are you crazy?” Reluctantly, I face him.
“I just…I feel like if I leave, then I’ll lose my chance. Come with me. You wouldn’t have to hang out with me. Lily could keep you company.”
“No. I can’t think clearly with you around. Just go.” I walk to my room without waiting to see if he leaves.
I watch her disappear into her room. I finish cleaning up her spilt soda and then I leave. I have no other choice. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be back. Giving up isn’t an option. Not when she still loves me. I’ll work through her hate for me until all that remains is her love for me.
Lily goes nuts when I arrive home. I reach down and rub her head. “Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to be gone all day.” I grab her leash, deciding to take her for a walk. She could use the exercise and freedom. Plus, there’s a nice breeze to make the June heat bearable. My phone rings, so I pull it from my pocket to answer.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey. Doing all right?”
“I talked to Brittany,” is all I say.
“It didn’t go well?”
“Nope. She’s not doing so great and she wants nothing to do with me.”
“Are you really surprised?”
I sigh. “No, but that doesn’t make it easier.”
“Nothing good ever comes easy.”
His response makes me laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told Brittany that before.” We talk for a while longer. Dad calls to check in more than he did before I told him, but it’s not too
bad. Our relationship is as good if not better than it was when my mom was alive. We hang up and the rest of my walk is spent in silence.
Lily suddenly tugs hard as we approach my house. I don’t expect it and her leash leaves my hand. When I follow my gaze to what she’s running toward, I nearly fall to my knees in relief and surprise. Brittany is sitting on my porch steps. My gaze travels over her while she loves on Lily. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top. Her hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail.
“Hey,” I say softly.
Brittany looks up at me. “Hey.”
I take a seat next to her. Why is she here? Did she change her mind already? That seems too good to be true. “She missed you. We both did.” Lily is resting her head on Brittany’s knees while she pets her. She doesn’t say anything, and finally, I ask, “What brings you here?”
“My mom called me after you left. I told her everything.”
“And?” I hold my breath.
“And,” she sighs, “for some reason, she thinks you deserve a chance to prove yourself. My dad disagreed.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know yet. I have questions.” ‘I don’t know yet’ is a better response than the firm ‘no’ I got earlier. “How many attempts were there?” she asks quietly, keeping her focus on Lily.
“Only those two.”
“So while we…” She trails off, glancing at me. I shake my head. “Or after?”
“No.”
“When did the thoughts start?”
“Weekend before finals.” She frowns and I add, “I didn’t tell you because it was bad timing. I didn’t want you to worry about me when you had so much on your plate already.”
She nods, but she’s still not happy about it. “When did you decide to break up with me?”
“A few hours before I did it. All I could think about was how I was making you worse. How maybe your dad was right and my depression would affect yours. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I did what I thought would help us both. I knew you were panicked, but I figured it was over finals or something. I didn’t know it was something so serious.”
“That’s why you should’ve let me talk,” she snaps. “But then, you probably would’ve broken up with me a few weeks later anyway.” The tension leaves her as she focuses on Lily again. “It’s been good for you, I know, but it hasn’t been for me. I’ve done nothing but struggle this entire time. My longest good streak was a month, which is when I met Quinn.” Her mouth parts, but then closes. She swallows hard. “Have you seen anyone? Been with anyone?” Her question is hesitant.
“Not a soul,” I answer. That’s the truth. I haven’t been interested in anyone else. I haven’t even been on so much as a date. Brittany has consumed my thoughts since she ran off my porch last May. There’s no room for anyone else.
“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty.”
“It shouldn’t,” I quickly tell her. “There’s no reason to feel guilty, so don’t.” Do I like that she was seeing someone else? No. If she was truly happy, would I have found a way to let her go? Yes. Brittany accepts my answer. She doesn’t say anything for a minute. “What are you thinking?” I ask gently.
“I don’t know.” Her voice is soft and her eyes turn glassy. “I don’t know about this, Trace. I wasn’t lying when I said that I hated you or that I don’t trust you anymore. It hurt too much to lose you. I almost got two weeks instead of one at the psych ward because it took me a couple of days to leave my room.” Her tears fall freely now and it takes so much to keep myself from pulling her into my arms. “You had always been with me through this mess. Then, all of a sudden, you were gone. The person I went to, relied on, and depended on was gone. Hell, I’m still trying to cope. I don’t know how to take you back or if I should. I don’t know.”
My self-control diminishes. I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “Take me back and I promise we’ll be together for good. I won’t walk away again. I’ll do anything to regain your trust and get rid of the hate. You let me in, and I’ll do the rest.”
Those brown eyes of hers are searching mine, trying to find my soul, and hoping like hell that I’m not lying to her. She wants to believe me, I can tell, but she’s still unsure. My gaze drops to her mouth, so close to my own.
“Don’t,” she whispers, snapping my attention upward. “It’s bad enough that you’re sitting next to me and touching me. Please don’t kiss me again.”
I rest my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry that I did this to you. Please, Britt, let me fix it.”
“What if we can’t be fixed?”
“We can be.”
She stares at me for a moment before nodding and pulling away. “I should go. I just wanted to ask those questions.” Brittany stands, turns, and looks back down at me. “No promises, but I’ll think about it.”
I nod. That’s all I can ask for. Lily and I watch her leave before heading inside.
“You’ve spoken to Brittany?” My therapist, Mrs. Kirk, isn’t really surprised. My plan this month was to reach out to Brittany. It just happened sooner since I ran into her at the event.
“Yes.”
“How’d that go?”
I half-laugh, half-scoff. “Okay, I guess. Every negative feeling she’s felt toward me since last year has built up. She says she hates me, but by the time we finished talking, she’s supposed to think about giving me a chance. It’s been a few days since then, and I haven’t heard from her.”
“What exactly happened when you saw her?”
I explain every little detail from when my eyes landed on her to taking her home to spending the following day with her. Mrs. Kirk purses her lips as she listens to me. When I finish, she eyes me for a moment before speaking.
“So Brittany is worse off with her depression and anxiety than before you left her, she has a lot of anger toward you for the pain you caused her, and she has even told you repeatedly that she hates you. You still think she’ll let you back into her life?” Mrs. Kirk raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“It’s not going to be easy, but yeah. She’s pissed at me and says she hates me. So what? She still loves me. That’s all that matters.”
“And if that’s not enough for her to come back to you?”
My jaw clenches as my hand grips my neck. “That’s not going to happen.”
Mrs. Kirk leans forward, resting her forearms on her desk. “You’ve been seeing me for a while, Trace. Every single session, you talk about Brittany. You’ve been focused on your last step of getting her back for two months. Not once have you ever entertained the idea that she might not take you back.”
“Because it’s not an option.”
“Sounds like it might be.”
I shake my head. “It’s not,” I force out. “She’ll come around. She just needs time. Don’t tell me to prepare for another outcome because this is the only outcome.”
Mrs. Kirk analyzes me. “Okay.” She makes me talk to her about any other issues I’ve been having lately, and then I’m leaving.
My fingers tap against my steering wheel as I think about what she said. Is it really an option for Brittany not to take me back? How likely is it? What am I going to do if she refuses to give me a chance? I catch sight of a florist shop and pull into the small lot. I’m overwhelmed by the floral aroma that hits me the moment I walk into the door.
As I glance at all the flowers on display, I realize I don’t even know if Brittany likes flowers, much less which is her favorite.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to see an elderly lady, probably only five feet tall, wearing an apron and her hands propped on her hips.
“I was hoping to get some flowers.”
“What kind?”
“Um.” I glance around. “I have no clue.”
One corner of her mouth lifts. She finds me amusing. “Do you know what kind she likes?”
I chuckle and shake my head. Of course the reason I’m here is obvious. Why else would a man buy flower
s?
“How much trouble are you in?”
“A lot.”
“Girlfriend or wife?” she asks, already looking around the room at her options.
“Ex-girlfriend I’m trying to win back a year after we broke up.”
“Whew. You are in trouble. I’ll fix you up something nice if you don’t mind waiting about twenty minutes?”
“That’s fine.”
She motions toward a vacant seat, so I sit down while she disappears into the back. “Do you need a vase?” she calls out.
“Yes, ma’am.” Twenty minutes later, she returns with a bouquet of what she says are sterling roses. As she rings me up, I ask, “Do flowers even really help?”
“They can’t hurt,” she answers. “They are always a nice surprise as well. I wish you luck.”
“Thank you.”
It doesn’t take me too terribly long to drive to Brittany’s apartment. Hopefully, she’s home and won’t mind my surprise visit. Hell, I hope she likes the flowers. As I knock on her door, I realize I’ve never bought anyone flowers except for my mom every year on her birthday. A moment passes and no one answers. I guess she’s not home. Should I leave them here or come back later?
Before I can decide, I hear her voice behind me. “Trace? What are you doing here?”
Fucking hell. Her ex-boyfriend is with her. What was his name again? Brittany is eyeing me and the flowers with discomfort while the guy is glaring at me. I have at least seven inches on him, and I smirk when he stands up taller.
“I just wanted to drop these off with you,” I start, finally answering her question. “I was checking in, too.”
She bumps into me as she unlocks her door. “Nothing has changed,” she says quietly. Brittany pushes the door open and motions for Quinn to go in. “I’ll be only be a sec.” I rake my gaze up and down her body. She’s dressed nicely, like maybe she just came from work. “Stop looking at me like that,” she snaps.
“Sorry,” I mutter the lie. “You don’t have to do anything or say anything. Just take the flowers.” I don’t want to pressure her in any way or become a jealous jackass or do anything to rock the boat.
Brittany slowly reaches out to take them from me as if they might bite her or startle her in some way. “They’re pretty.” She dips her head to inhale the scent and then tilts her head back to look at me, a small smile on her face. “Thank you.” We can hear Quinn moving around inside. “He’s just grabbing some of his things,” she explains.
Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) Page 3
