“So?”
My eyes immediately water. Great. I’m back to crying over every little thing, even something so simple as a two-letter word. “Work was crazy today, I’m worried about moving, and I’m trying for a change. It’s hard and overwhelming when I feel like shit. I want to sleep so bad, Trace, or something equally not helpful.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Part of me already wants to give up. Fighting is harder than I remember.” A corner of my mouth lifts as I try to joke and lighten the heaviness of what I’ve said.
“When you see Mrs. Potter tomorrow, push her to get you an appointment this week. She has to be able to pull some strings. If she can’t, I can. I know plenty of great psychiatrists.”
Hopefully Mrs. Potter can send me to someone new. I don’t like the idea of Trace helping me with this. It’s too close to the same situation with Dr. Gunner.
“Or my therapist could do it,” he adds as if he can read my mind. “I don’t want you spending another week or longer like this. Not when you’re already struggling so much.”
“I’ll ask her.” I wipe a stray tear and grab another cracker to keep busy.
“How is apartment hunting going?”
I shrug. “I found a few places that seem decent, but you never know.”
“Call and schedule to see them. I’ll go with you.”
A surge of anger rises from nowhere. “Will you stop solving all of my problems so easily? None of this is easy.”
“Hey, I know this. All I’m trying to do is minimize it, remind you of solutions, and let you know I’ll be there to help. I don’t mean to make it sound easy.” His voice is so calm and understanding. How is that annoying?
I take a deep breath. “I know,” I reply softly. “Sorry. How was your day? Better than mine, I hope.” I finish off my delicious cracker as he talks.
“It was okay. Lily and I had just finished our walk when you texted me.”
“You’re walking her?”
“Yeah. She has too much energy, so that helps burn it off. It’s relaxing and peaceful.”
Two words that haven’t been associated with my life for a long time. It sounds perfect. “When do you usually walk her?”
“Sometimes after work, sometimes after dinner, depending on the heat. Why? Do you want to walk with us? Sometimes, exercise helps with all of this.” He taps my temple gently. “Though,” he continues with a bit of a smile, “exercise might be a bit of a stretch. It’s not even a brisk walk, but it could still help.”
“I think I will join you.”
We talk more about our days and the upcoming week while eating the rest of our treats. It feels good to have a simple conversation, but my energy is draining by the second. My attention span, my give a damn, and that feeling of life is all being sucked dry by depression and my growing anxiety over tomorrow.
“Go home, Britt,” Trace quietly orders me. “Go to bed and rest up for tomorrow. Plan for a date with me Friday, too.”
I should leave, go straight home, and climb into bed. But I don’t want to be alone yet. I don’t want my thoughts to take over all the space in my head until I can’t even think through the tangles and knots as they band together and dominate my mind. I’m not strong enough to deal with it. If weakness could be a strong suit, it’d be my forte. That thought brings another surge of tears.
“You’re a mess,” Trace whispers as he moves to stand between my knees and wraps his arms around my shoulders as I press my face into his neck with a small laugh.
“Thanks.”
“I love you, though.”
“Love you too.” I take a deep breath and sit up, causing his arms to fall and his hands to land on my thighs. “I think I’m okay now.” Far from okay, but better than I was. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I’ll be even better.
“It’s good to see you again,” Mrs. Potter says as we settle into our seats. “How have you been? Catch me up. We have plenty of time because my next appointment canceled, so don’t feel like you need to rush through it.”
I nod and begin recounting the highlights of what’s happened since I last saw her. I swear, I go through a box of tissues. It’s hard to get through it all, to realize just how bad things have been, and to think about the long road ahead of me. Mrs. Potter looks at me with pity many times throughout my story. Eventually, I finish and take a deep breath, wishing I had something to drink for my dry throat. Mrs. Potter steps out for a moment so the receptionist can go ahead and try to set up an appointment with a psychiatrist before the end of the week.
“It’s been a tough year for you. I’m happy you’ve decided to come back. It seems like you have a bit of a plan. I definitely want to see you once a week for a while. Try to get back into the habit of using the techniques you’ve learned for your anxiety. If it doesn’t help, we’ll come up with new methods. As for your depression, I think what you’ve done so far is good. Get out of the apartment, relax, have some me-time, even if that means spending it with Trace. Just do something for yourself that gets you out of the apartment. Don’t wallow in it. Fight. Once we get you on medication, hopefully that will help out as well. Is there anything in particular that you’d like to discuss more in depth?”
My hand makes a move for my wrist. I know this more because Mrs. Potter’s gaze drops than the fact that I noticed I did it. “How long do you think it’ll take before I trust Trace again?”
Mrs. Potter seems to take a moment to think about it. “I believe your heart already trusts him completely. It’s your brain that’s fighting him, which is fine. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take, but it will take time. If you two can’t work it out yourselves, feel free to bring him to a session. Or, if you’d rather see his therapist, that’s fine too. You seem a bit hesitant still about being with him again. I want to make a suggestion.”
My body tenses. “Which would be?”
“Stop thinking so much when it comes to Trace. I know it might seem crazy, especially given what he did and how it affected you, but you make it sound as if you’re both fully committed and willing to do whatever it takes to make your relationship work. That being so, fall in head first and learn to trust him again that way. If he catches you, then it’ll help rebuild the trust.”
All I can think about is what if he doesn’t?
By the time I get to Trace’s for our walk with Lily, I’ve repeated what Mrs. Potter told me so many times that it might as well be my new mantra. It’s actually made me feel better, too. There’s even a smile on my face! It’s a miracle! I knock on Trace’s door, hear Lily bark once, and then he opens it. She’s already attached to her leash. Trace looks hot in a pair of gym shorts and a white T-shirt.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.”
We walk down the porch steps, across the yard, and to the sidewalk. Lily is walking happily next to Trace. He reaches over to intertwine our fingers and gives my hand a light squeeze.
“You’ve had me worried; I haven’t heard from you all day. How was your appointment?”
“Good. I basically had two sessions because the person after me canceled and she let me talk that long. She was able to get me into a psychiatrist tomorrow. Hopefully, I’ll like this one. And I was going to text you, but work was chaos when I got there. We have another big event coming up. It’ll probably be crazy for a while. How was your day?” I ask, glancing over at him.
A short sigh leaves him. “Long. Hoping that between you and the walk, it will serve as a pick-me-up. My bad days come every so often, and it’s just about that time. Well, it wasn’t a bad day; just one of those days that are a bit of a struggle, you know?” He looks at me since I’ve stopped walking because I’m too busy staring.
He told me.
Without having to push and prod and search for signs, he told me he’s having a bad day.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice is curious with a hint of amusement as if he knows I’m stunned. He’s so damn gorgeous and cute.
Before I can think twice about it
, I step closer, lift onto my toes as I grab his T-shirt in my fists, and I kiss him. Trace locks an arm around my waist to hold me closer. I don’t have to be prodded for my mouth to open and his tongue to sweep inside. The evening is hot as it is and I’m starting to burn from the inside out with every brush of his mouth. Kissing Trace is like that feeling when you’ve been on a health kick, drinking nothing but water, and suddenly, you get a tall, cold glass of your favorite soda. It tastes so good and quenches your thirst for that one, specific drink. Unfortunately, it also makes you crave more.
More of Trace’s tight grip around my waist.
More of his mouth sending delicious waves of pleasure all over my body, even though he hasn’t left my mouth.
More of his body against mine.
More exploring of other places, like the area where his hard length is against my stomach.
Too much need is coursing through me, and it makes me want to drag him back to the house.
This is too soon; we’re supposed to be taking things slow.
I pull my head back and stare into those probing hazel eyes. Both of us are breathing a little heavy. Lily’s own panting draws my attention when she nudges her nose against my leg. I glance down at her and laugh.
“Sorry, girl. Back to walking, I know.” Trace is still holding onto me. “Are you going to let me go?” I ask with a teasing tone and a playful smile.
“Never.” He kisses my forehead and then lets go of me, so we can start walking again.
“I’m proud of you,” I blurt out.
“Why?”
He can’t seriously not know, can he? He seems genuinely confused. It hurts my heart a little because now I’m wondering if he doesn’t see what I see.
“You’ve made so much progress, Trace. You set your mind to doing better and you did it. You don’t let the bad days overwhelm you and take over.”
Trace shrugs it off. “Wasn’t easy. Still isn’t, but I kept thinking about the end game and what I wanted.” He looks at me. “You.”
Somehow, my heart breaks a little more while also putting a few pieces back together. It’s a bittersweet ache that nevertheless gives me a reason to smile. For the first time, I feel like I’m finally starting to heal.
We don’t say anything for a while after that. Trace’s route is simply half a mile down the road and back.
“So,” Trace begins, “I was thinking you could stay over Friday night and we could go look at apartments Saturday morning.”
“That sounds like a plan. What are we doing for our date, by the way?”
“You’ll find out,” he answers with a smirk. “All I’ll say is that I plan for it to be laid back and relaxing.”
Which sounds perfect. This week has been stressful and I’ve been worried about our date, wondering if I’ll have any energy left by the time the end of the week gets here. I don’t want my mood or anxiety to ruin the date.
“Hey, how’s your mom doing?”
“Good. I talked to her yesterday after I left your house. She’s still pretty worried about me, especially when I told her if I could find another place, I’ll be moving soon. She didn’t say it, but I think she’s worried about so much going on at once. It’s life, though, right? Have to learn how to juggle it all.”
“And I have complete faith in you,” Trace says as we reach his house. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
YES! my mind shouts. However, I answer, “I should probably go. I need to run by the grocery store and do laundry.” The desire to jump into his arms and demand he have his way with me is still too strong. I don’t want to tempt fate just yet. Trace nods, kisses me briefly, and then opens the door to my car for me.
“Text me if you need me.”
“I will,” I promise.
“And text me if you don’t.”
“I will,” I laugh.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Trace was right. Sometimes a simple walk can do wonders for a person. I feel…weightless. After being bogged down, heavy with the weight of thousands of my mind’s burdens, I finally feel light, as if I’m floating above the surface. It’s a wonderful feeling. All thanks to Trace reentering my life and pulling me back above water, so I can get my fight back.
Unfortunately, the struggle, the weight and heaviness, returns the moment I enter my apartment and am surrounded by the silence of being alone with my dangerous thoughts.
Brittany: Positive #1 – I am now medicated.
Brittany: Positive #2 – I think I’ll like him.
Brittany: Positive #3 – Work is slow today.
Me: Happy to hear all of those things!
“Have you heard about me?”
I lift my gaze from my phone to Ben. We’re out at lunch and I’m confused by his question. “Heard what?”
His shoulders deflate just a little. “Brittany hasn’t said anything about me?”
“Why would she?”
“Because I’m dating her co-worker!”
“Maybe Melissa hasn’t told her yet, or she assumed I already knew,” I say as I try to come up with some explanation. After all, it’s been days since they first met and Ben hasn’t said anything to me until now.
“This kinda bums me out.”
I laugh. “You’ll get over it. So, you’re dating her?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen her just about every other day. I think she could be the one.”
“It hasn’t even been a week,” I point out.
“I don’t care. If I could marry her tomorrow, I would.” He sounds and looks so serious and sure, too.
“You’re insane. You barely know her!”
“I know enough,” he replies confidently. “I’m telling you right now, all the bad shit I got going on, I’m changing for her. People don’t do that for just anybody.”
That is true. “You should do it for yourself.”
Ben shrugs. “She motivates me better than I can myself.”
Makes sense. I mean, it took falling in love with Brittany and then walking away to realize how much work I needed to put into myself, how much I needed to better myself. She motivated me more than I or anyone else ever could.
Ben continues, “You’re improving yourself for Brittany because one day, you see yourself marrying her, don’t you? Same thing.”
It is so not the same thing, but I don’t say that. Instead, I reply, “Keyword being one day. I had a hard enough time getting her back, and now, I have to earn her trust that I won’t abandon her ever again. Proposing isn’t going to happen for a long time.”
“Proposing with the promise of spending forever together could be a good way to get her to trust you.”
I laugh because that’s ridiculous. “A promise shown with a ring isn’t going to mean much when I’ve broken promises before. Why are we even talking about this?”
He shrugs and we change the subject, thankfully. Marriage isn’t exactly an easy topic for me, considering my first one was an epic failure. That was ninety-nine percent my fault. I’m better now than I was then, but that doesn’t mean I’m fit to be married either. There’s still work to be done. Brittany and I need to be able to have a stable relationship before we can even think about the next step.
I shove all of those thoughts out of my head the moment I step into the office for the rest of the work day. The day passes by smoothly, and soon, Brittany and I are stepping onto the sidewalk for our walk with Lily.
“Did you know that Melissa and Ben are still seeing each other?”
Brittany nods. “She told me; I figured you already knew.”
“Ben mentioned it today at lunch.”
“Do y’all always have lunch together?” she asks.
“Usually. How was your day?”
“Good. Last night was kinda hard, though. I need to figure out how to handle being alone in my apartment. I had always lived with someone before I had to get my own place, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.”
“How
is it hard?” I’m sure to ask in a curious, gentle way. I want to know what it is about being alone in her home that makes her struggle. Maybe I can help her with it.
She seems to think about it. “I don’t know. It’s like I can’t turn my thoughts off. It’s too quiet and my mind is so loud. I tried listening to music, but it made me feel worse. I tried to find something funny on TV, but I didn’t really feel anything. I gave Melissa what alcohol I had left, so that temptation is gone. It felt more like I was sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, and trying not to think about anything in particular. What if I’m a person who can’t live alone because it’ll drive me mad?”
It didn’t even occur to me that something like that could be an issue for her. It makes sense, especially if she’s used to, in a way, relying on someone else to keep her distracted and out of her own head. I don’t get a chance to answer because Brittany keeps talking.
“I mean, look at what happened. I moved into my own place, stopped taking my meds, and let myself spiral out of control. What if—”
“Britt, you’re capable of living alone,” I interrupt. “Is it a little harder? Yes, of course. Can you do it anyway? Absolutely. You just need to find out what helps rather than hurts. Like, do you remember when you walked in on me cleaning and listening to music?”
She laughs. “Yeah because you were listening to Justin Bieber.”
“My point is that day, I was struggling and wishing I wasn’t home alone. So, I turned on some music and started cleaning my house. That helps me space out for a while without it being a bad thing.”
“My apartment is spotless because I keep cleaning it to find something to do other than watch TV.”
“Watching a show or movie doesn’t help?”
Brittany shakes her head. “It doesn’t keep my focus.”
Hmm. I think for a moment before coming up with an alternative. “What about reading? Have you tried that?”
Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) Page 11
