I so do not want to deal with him right now. The only thing that sounds great is my bed and sleep. Thankfully, Rebecca is currently in class, so I don’t have to worry about her. I change into my pajamas, crawl into my bed, and try to fall asleep.

Life never works out the way I want it to, though. After half an hour with two more texts from Trace, I impulsively grab my bottle of sleeping pills and dry-swallow one. I lie down, getting comfortable, and soon, I’m knocked out.

I’m groggy and too warm when I wake up. I almost feel like I’m being held down. The thought pulls my eyelids open. My body jolts when I see a broad chest in front of me.

“You owe me,” Trace’s gravely voice murmurs from above my head.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, tilting my head back to look at him. There is just enough room for me in this bed. There is definitely not enough room for me and a man of Trace’s stature. I try not to think about how his arms are around me and how his body is pressed against mine. It’s nice, really really nice.

“Rebecca helped me sneak in after she answered one of my many calls to you because we were both worried. Me because you never texted me back. Her because she couldn’t wake you and she says you wake easily. That was when she noticed your sleeping pills on the nightstand, so she answered since I kept calling.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m not supposed to be here, Britt. Any relationship of ours is supposed to stay off campus, which means I definitely should not be in your dorm.”

“Then why are you here?” My voice comes out a little snappier than I intended, but it doesn’t faze Trace.

“Because I was worried. Are you up for sneaking me out of here and coming back to my place? I want to talk to you, but if I have to spend another second in this bed, my body is going to hate me worse tomorrow than it’s already planning to.”

Guilt for worrying him and for being the reason he’s in this cramped bed with me causes me to nod.

“Thank God.” He releases his hold on me to get out of bed. Rebecca is asleep in her bed. “Once I counted your sleeping pills and figured out you probably only took one, she was satisfied enough that you would be fine. Still had to convince her to go to sleep,” Trace says.

The alarm clock says it’s three A.M. Without thinking about the implications of what it means, I grab my coat, put on my shoes, and pack a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and my neglected phone. Trace stands anxiously by the door, shifting his weight and glancing between me and it. I hope that we can get out of here without any trouble. I’d hate to put his job on the line because I caused him to worry about me.

I open the door and peer out. The hallway is quiet and empty. Trace takes my hand and I lead us out of the building and into the safety of the outdoors.

“Sweet fuck,” Trace curses as the cold assaults us. Even worse, we have to walk across campus to where his car is parked. I try to walk faster on the sidewalk, but Trace tugs on my hand to slow me down. “Careful; I don’t want you to slip on a patch of ice.”

As soon as he says it, I feel my foot slip a little. We make it to his car without incident, though. That’s when Trace decides to start talking. Maybe because my only escape would be to jump out of a moving car.

“So, you took a sleeping pill? Just one like I thought?” Somehow, he manages to ask the question gently, without accusation or judgment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, shrugging it off.

“It was only four in the afternoon when Rebecca texted me.” My body tenses as I wait for him to continue his lecture. “I’m assuming you had a panic attack and just wanted to make it all stop for a while, and I get that, but that’s not the way to do it, Brittany.”

I wince a little at hearing him call me by my full name. “I won’t do it again,” I promise. I mean it, too. I don’t want to make it a habit of misusing my medications. That’s exactly what I did. “Sorry. Must be a little hard not to go full therapist on me right now.”

“It’s harder for me to hold back and not tell you how stupid it was because I care about you, not because I’m an uninvolved third party. The last thing you need to add on top of the anxiety attacks is drug abuse, because that’s what it is. I just…it scares me to think you’d even do it once. If you’ll do it once, you’ll be tempted to do it again.”

“Doesn’t mean I will do it again. I know it was dumb, and I don’t want to make it a habit, so I won’t.”

He nods as he parks in his driveway. “I believe you.”

We walk inside, Trace turning on lights as we do. He walks into the kitchen, offering something to drink. I decline, but he grabs a Sun Drop for himself. That’s when I really notice his eyes. The guilt sits a little heavier in my stomach.

“Have you slept at all?”

“No. I haven’t been tired; it’s fine.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “It is not fine. You need sleep. Now. We can talk in the morning.” When he opens his mouth to object, I take the soda, set it on the counter, and then take his hand. He seems so stunned that his mouth closes. I turn off the lights and go to his bedroom. I’m not sure if I’ll sleep in here or his guest room or on his couch. I kind of want him to decide. I place Trace in front of his dresser. “Get your pajamas and go change.”

That seems to snap him out of it. He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

I watch as he opens his drawers and retrieves his clothes. I glance around the room. His bed is a huge California King, which makes sense; he’s so tall. It looks really comfy.

Trace clears his throat once the pjs are in his hands, bringing my attention back to him. “You can sleep in here. I can sleep wherever you’d rather I be.”

“I’ve

already shared a bed with you once tonight. Might as well do it again,” I say. Surprisingly, I’m actually tired. I might be more nervous had I not woken with Trace and if I thought I wouldn’t fall right to sleep.