Making Me Sane (Sanity Book 2) (7 page)

“I’ll walk you in,” I offer.

“Okay.”

We get out, meet around the front of the car, and I take her hand as we walk toward the building. I’m not dumb enough to have thought that we could’ve slipped back into the way things were, but I didn’t think it would be so difficult or feel so bad.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say as we step into the elevator. Just because I can still read her easily doesn’t mean I know exactly what she’s thinking.

She looks over at me with watery eyes. Fuck. What have I done now? Brittany just shakes her head.

“Britt,” I whisper, but she shakes her head again.

The doors slide apart and Brittany walks through, dragging me with her. She lets go of my hand and starts talking as she unlocks her door. “I don’t know if I can do this, Trace. It’s too hard, and I feel like I’m constantly fighting myself because my emotions are contradicting each other. I just don’t know if it’s worth the turmoil.”

My heart begins hammering in my chest. She can’t be giving up and retreating already. Brittany pushes her door open, but I grab her arm before she can escape. Her eyes are full of pain as she looks up at me. I cup her face.

“It’s worth it.
We
are worth it. Please.” My voice trails off because I don’t even know what exactly I’m begging for anymore. Except for her. I’m begging for
her
.

Her eyes scan over my face. Suddenly, she grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me down as she lifts on her tiptoes to kiss me. Her lips are aggressive and her tongue pushes its way into my mouth. I wrap my arms around her waist to pull her flush against me. My fingertips curl and dig into her shirt. This kiss does not belong to a conflicted girl; it belongs to a girl who is desperate to put the pieces back together and keep them that way.

Brittany starts walking toward the door, but I slide my hands to the underside of her thighs and lift until they’re wrapped around my waist. I walk us inside and kick the door closed behind us.

“Tell me what you want.” I kiss along her jaw and down her neck.

“Bedroom,” she breathes.

Even though I hate to give her an opportunity to change her mind, I ask anyway. “Sure?”

She presses her mouth to mine and nods. Within seconds, we’re in her bedroom and on her bed. I run my hands down her sides, wanting to commit to my memory the feel of her body and to remind myself that she’s here and this is happening. My heart stops when she gently pushes me away. My heartbeat seems like it’s pulsing in my head, but it slows as I realize she’s only removing her shirt. I drink in the sight of her. I could stare at her for hours, but Brittany isn’t having it. She pulls me back down to her lips and then her hands reach for my shorts.

I push them away for now. It’s been one year, two months, and a handful of days since I’ve been able to enjoy her body. Not a thing about this will be rushed. I didn’t do a good enough job before to take care of her. That’s not happening again. I place open-mouthed kisses across her chest. My girl doesn’t trust me, she doubts me, and everything I do has to be a step toward getting rid of that. That thought makes me pause. Brittany removes her bra while I wonder if I should even sleep with her yet.

Brittany grabs my face and pulls my body up until we’re face to face. “Don’t think; just act.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to nod because she kisses me again.

Don’t think. Just act.

I can do that.

Brittany lies next to me with her head on my chest and an arm thrown over my stomach. We haven’t spoken a word in quite some time. I continue running my fingers up and down her bare back and glance at her alarm clock.

“I need to go.” My voice seems too loud as it breaks the silence.

Her body tenses and I swear she stops breathing.

“Lily needs to be let out,” I explain.

“Oh. Yeah, she probably does.” She starts to pull away from me.

“You could come over. I could stop and get us something to eat on the way.” I get out of bed and start dressing while she thinks it over.
Please say yes
. Overall, things have been going well tonight and I don’t want to leave her alone with her thoughts.

“What are you thinking of getting for dinner?” she finally says once I’m dressed.

“What do you want?”

“Hmm, I could go for a chicken sandwich and some fries.”

I nod. “Get dressed and I’ll meet you at the house.” I lean over to kiss her softly.

“I’m not spending the night,” she tells me, holding the sheets tighter around her chest.

“Wasn’t expecting you to.”

The corners of her mouth drop, but I don’t know why she’d frown. She nods. With one last kiss to her forehead, I leave. By the time she dresses and I stop by a fast food restaurant that serves chicken sandwiches, we arrive at my house within a few minutes of each other. I’m standing on the front porch while Lily attends to her business, but as soon as Brittany pulls into the driveway, Lily runs toward her car.

Not going to lie; it stings a little that Brittany’s biggest smile tonight is because of Lily’s excitement to see her. She didn’t even smile like that after sex. I shake my head, not needing to worry about it. Brittany and Lily make their way inside. We get settled on the couch, where we eat our dinner. It’s kind of odd, but reassuring, that she doesn’t seem to have an issue eating.

We’re watching some crime drama once we finish eating. For a moment, I wonder if Brittany is going to go ahead and leave, but she doesn’t. She stands, holds out her hand to me, and then pulls me over to the recliner without uttering a word. A surprising rush of relief hits me to be lying in my recliner with her again.

“I’ve missed this,” she whispers a few minutes later.

“Me too, Britt.” I rub her back, just like old times.

A minute passes and she adds, “I’ll head home after the episode ends.”

“Okay.” Do I want her to stay? Of course, but I’m not going to ask. She needs to make that decision. I need to figure out when to fight for her and when to leave her to her own battles.

However, by the time the episode ends forty-five minutes later, Brittany is sound asleep in my arms. I try to do the right thing by attempting to wake her, but she’s dead to the world. I push the footrest down, adjust her in my arms, and carry her to my room. Lily immediately settles at her feet while I change, take my pills, and get ready for bed myself.

God, I’ve missed sharing a bed with her. I pull her against me and quickly fall asleep.

I don’t know when she has to report to work, but six in the morning seems like a good time to wake her up and make sure she has plenty of time. “Britt. Wake up.” I shake her shoulder. She grumbles and I smile. “You need to head home and get ready for work. Plus, take your pills since you missed them last night.”

She looks at me sleepily, but shrugs. “It’s no big deal.” Brittany stretches and I start to feel uneasy. “It doesn’t make a damn difference if I miss here or there,” she mumbles as she gets out of bed.

“Are you saying you skip doses?”

“It happens. Where’s my phone?” She starts toward the living room, not once looking back or waiting for me to answer.

I quickly follow her. “Brittany, are you intentionally skipping doses?”

“Of course not,” she retorts. She looks tense, though, and she’s snatching her phone and keys from the end table.

“Don’t lie to me. This is a big deal if you are.”

She whirls around. “I don’t need you to save me, Trace!” she shouts, suddenly pissed. “It’s none of your damn business anymore! I’m doing the best I can; get off my back.”

A humorless laugh leaves me. “The best you can? Bullshit. You aren’t going to therapy or seeing Dr. Gunner or taking your fucking pills like you ought to! You’re not helping yourself at all!” I lower my voice and stare at her. It’s like I have fresh eyes when I look at her. She’s broken and she doesn’t seem to care. She’s self-destructive right now. “Where’s your fight, Britt?”

She scoffs. “I don’t know. When you find it, send it my way.” Before I can say anything else, she’s walking out of my door.

I plop down onto the couch and pet Lily as she jumps up next to me. Did I do this to Brittany? Did I take her fight away and serve as a catalyst for what she’s become and the worsening of her mental health? Somehow, I have to get through work today and the weekend before I can talk to Mrs. Kirk. Maybe I did fuck her up. After all, I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most.

Guilt is tempting to swallow me whole. How did she go from a faithful medication taker, psychiatrist and therapist seer, and a person willing to fight for her sanity to the person she is today in only a year? This has to be my fault. Should I even be trying to win her back when my mistakes can obviously have disastrous effects on her? Maybe we can’t work and aren’t good for one another.

Similar thoughts plague me all weekend. I’m an anxious mess when I walk into Mrs. Kirk’s office. She doesn’t even have to prompt me before I’m launching into all the details of what’s happened since I last saw her.

“I don’t know how to help her because the last thing she wants is help from me, but she does need help. And it should be me who helps her if I’m part of why she is this way. I’ve tried calling and texting her all weekend, but she ignored me. What am I supposed to do?”

Mrs. Kirk hesitates, which puts me on guard. “Have you been obsessing about this all weekend?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hear me out before you go off on me,” she begins. “I think that maybe you should put getting back together with Brittany on hold.”
No fucking way
. When I open my mouth, she raises her hand. “I said hear me out. She is obviously not in a good place, and if she isn’t willing to accept help, it’s only going to be bad for you if you try. Maybe you should give her some time to get her life together before she starts tearing yours apart.”

I wait two seconds to make sure she’s done talking before I start my rebuttal. “No. I’m not doing that. I can’t abandon her again. If I do what you suggest, she’d never take me back. She needs me. She needs me to help her, whether she can see it or accept it or not. It was a mistake to leave her the first time for the exact same reasons you mentioned; I won’t do it again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s that Brittany is a piece of sanity among the chaos. The same thing goes for her in regards to me. We make each other sane. I am not giving that up again or putting it on hold. Maybe she does need time to get her life together, but maybe she needs me to help her do it.”

She purses her thin, wrinkled lips before nodding. “Okay. Tell me your plan to win her trust, then.”

“Have any suggestions?”

Mrs. Kirk laughs. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Be there for her. Keep pursuing her. Stay honest with her. Get her some help. Be understanding, and don’t blame this on yourself. Regardless of if there is blame for you, she’s the one who is refusing to do her part to help herself. I’m not a couples therapist, but you can bring her in for a session if you’d like as well.”

I don’t know if Brittany would be willing to do that since she doesn’t even want to see a therapist for herself. After my appointment, I decide I’m going to deliver more flowers. I need to do something to let her know I’m not giving up. An idea hits me and I hope it won’t be as bad as it sounds. I buy a bamboo plant and a small card to go with it. On it, I write:
Like my love for you, this plant never dies
.

The plant can die, but it’s probably hard to kill it. Who knows. Bamboo plants are easy to maintain and are little work, so at least it’ll last instead of eventually dying like the roses I got her last week. I don’t see Brittany’s car in the lot, so I guess she’s not home yet. I set the bamboo in front of her door with the card stuck on the small pot. I knock twice, but there’s no answer, which is okay. I leave the plant and head home.