Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (4 page)

Trace nods. “Do you still see Dr. Gunner?”

“No,” I quickly answer. “Not after he admitted me like that. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have stopped seeing him, since he did come up and see me while I was in the hospital, but I don’t know. I felt like he should’ve told me before I went to the hospital.”

He frowns and his brows pull together. “He came to see you?”

“Yeah. He drove up that Friday and left Monday.”

“Damn it.”

I don’t understand his reaction. Why would it matter that he was here? “What is it?” I ask.

“I had lunch with him while he was here.” Confusion flits across my features and he continues, “He’s an old friend from college. He knew I was seeing you and that I broke up with you, but he would always say how he wouldn’t give me any details if I ever asked because you were his patient. I can’t believe you were his emergency.”

I don’t know how I feel about this and I don’t want to think about it. There’s a knock on the door and Trace gets up to answer it, returning with a box of pizza. The delicious aroma fills my living room. I didn’t think I was hungry, but now that I’ve smelled it...

“Want any?” Trace pops the lid and moves it in circles under my nose like that one time when I wasn’t hungry. The memory hurts. Breathing the same air as Trace hurts.

If I can just let him say what he wants, then he’ll leave.

I snag a slice of pizza. He reclaims his seat and places the pizza box on the coffee table.

“How are your parents?”

“Fine.”
They’re disappointed in you. They would kill you if they knew you were here. They hate you as much as I do.
“How’s your dad and Amy?”

“Good.” Trace clears his throat. “They know.”

This catches me off guard so much so that I nearly choke on my pizza. Thankfully, I’m able to regain my composure before Trace has to pat me on the back or help me in any way.

He gives me a small smile. “We should probably eat before I tell you more.”

I nod, though I don’t want him to tell me more. He doesn’t have to say anything else for me to know that he’s spent his time away from me by doing better, improving. I
was
bad for him, I guess. It also pisses me off that while he was off getting better, I was here getting worse. Sure, I’m happy for him. But I’m pissed the hell off too.

“Are you still seeing Mrs. Potter?”

I shake my head. Something in me cracked about two months after our breakup. I couldn’t stand going to therapy. All I did was cry or stare at the wall. Mrs. Potter only pissed me off with her suggestions and responses when I spoke to her. She wasn’t helping. So, I stopped going. I don’t really like my new psychiatrist either, but he gives me pills that are supposedly helping me.

“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.”